Witches and Wine Page 12

  The door chimed again, and in walked an older gentleman leaning on a cane, his black fedora tilted crookedly over his large ears as he slowly hobbled over to us. "Good day, young ladies," he wheezed, tipping his hat to us. "I thought I heard your lovely voice again, Miss Barbara."

  She chuckled, waving him off. "Oh Albert, you’re too kind."

  "And who's this stunning young lady with the red hair?" he asked, nodding in my direction. "I don't recall ever seeing you around, and I've lived here my whole life."

  I smiled. "I'm Taylor, sir. I just moved into town a few days ago."

  "She's staying with Karen downstairs at my place," Barbara added. "And she's the latest employee here, too. Taylor, this is Mr. Albert Reed, former professor at Berkeley."

  "Yep," he wheezed, shuffling his weight to his other leg. "I'm retired now, thank heavens. Couldn't stand to be around those brats for yet another miserable year. I miss the students, though. You know I taught Barbara my very first year as a professor?" he laughed. “Smart as a whip, she was. Could recite Yeats off the top of her head like it was a nursey rhyme."

  "Were you a literary nerd, Barbara?" I teased her, easily able to imagine it.

  Barbara winked at me. "Still am!"

  As the other three carried on talking about things, I glanced at the shop floor and decided it could use a quick sweep. Taking the broom and dustbin, I got to work. I almost expected more people from around town to pop into the shop, curious about Barbara's return and my arrival, but thankfully it wasn't rush hour just yet.

  Barbara told the tale of getting put into the jail cell for all three of us, both Mr. Reed and Stephanie in complete shock.

  "No reason at all for them to throw you in there so unnecessarily like that," Mr. Reed sputtered.

  "You poor thing!" Stephanie chimed in. "I just cannot believe the chief would do that. Although, you do know how he feels about you, Barb," she added.

  “Utterly unprofessional, nonetheless,” Mr. Reed replied, sounding slightly put off by the idea of Chief Benson having any kind of interest in Barbara. In my head, however, suddenly things made a lot more sense. Maybe he had kept Barbara in jail for so long to keep an eye on her, in case the murderer was looking to pick her off, too. I filed that little tidbit of information in the back of my mind, hoping I’d remember to mention it to Karen later on.

  The shop phone rang after Barbara finished explaining her side of the story, and she picked it up with a pleasant greeting.

  I watched as her face slipped into something less like her and more formal.

  "Four o'clock? Of course. Thank you for calling to tell me, Darren. I will let my daughter know. You as well. Take care," Barbara said into the phone, resting the receiver back down on its charger with a soft click. She turned to me and Stephanie, a sad smile crossing her elegant face. "That was Henry's partner at the firm, Darren James. He's helping with the arrangements for the funeral, and it looks like it will take place tomorrow at four, down at the church."

  Both Stephanie and Mr. Reed nodded, wearing matching somber expressions suitable for the news. "I'll make sure to mark it down somewhere," Stephanie muttered.

  Mr. Reed, on the other hand, narrowed his eyes. "If anyone thinks for one moment I'm going to show up to that-"

  Barbara held up her hand patiently, her calmness never fading. "It's quite all right, Albert. To be honest with you, I even wondered if I myself would be able to put everything aside to attend the funeral service. I'm going for Karen, at least. He was her father, after all." She looked up as the door chimed once again, this time a younger man who looked like he just stepped into the Twilight Zone cautiously made his way towards the selection of postcards. "Anything I can help you with today, sir?" I heard Barbara ask him as she went around the corner, leaving Stephanie and Mr. Reed to it.

  I knew I was supposed to be sweeping the floor, but I couldn't help but lean in when their voices automatically lowered, Stephanie stepping right out of my line of sight.

  Albert Reed replaced his hat on his head again, tipping it toward Stephanie. "I don't like to speak ill of the deceased, mind you. But that man was a nuisance to the town. I never liked him, not even a little bit."

  I couldn't see Stephanie, but I heard her mutter in agreement. "Oh, I'm right there with you, Al. He was always flirting with me whenever he popped into the cafe, thinking he could say whatever he liked just because he was one of the richest men in Rosemary Creek. Even when he was married to poor Barbara he was a scoundrel."

  "Mm-hmm, I remember well. She never seemed particularly happy with the man." Albert scratched his snow-white stubble, shrugging. "I never really understood what she saw in him, anyway," he mumbled. If I hadn't already thought Albert Reed harbored some kind of crush on Barbara, I couldn't deny it after hearing how wistful he sounded.

  "She was young and in love. Something to that effect, anyway. But I do remember when everything went down that one day. I could've sworn that storm that blew into town came right from Barbara's eyes! Oh, she was so mad. I could practically feel the anger coming off her; I think the whole cafe could."

  "Now, refresh my memory, Stephanie. What day are you referring to?" Albert asked her, leaning harder against his cane. “My mind’s not quite what it used to be.”

  Stephanie's voice was much lower this time. "The day she found him. With Sydney."

  There was a quiet between them that painted the picture all too clearly. Henry had cheated on Barbara with Sydney, while they were still married? Yikes.

  I slipped back out of the aisle, trying not to draw attention to myself for not-so-accidentally listening in. But hearing everything firsthand, it all made a lot more sense. And I finally understood the real issue of tension between Karen and Sydney. It was a lot more than just standard dad’s-new-wife stuff.

  Chapter 19

  Going to Henry Mortran’s funeral felt surreal in more ways than one. I didn't even know him, yet I felt like I did, having learned so much second-hand information about the man since moving to Rosemary Creek.

  When I finally saw his casket at the end of the aisle, stiff folded hands over his waist, my stomach did a somersault. Even in death he was dressed exactly how I would have expected – bespoke suit, ridiculously huge Rolex on his wrist, giant red ring on his finger, a tie that probably cost more than my monthly rent, and even a freaking cigar in between his clasped hands! A cigar! Really? I had never been to anyone's funeral but that of my own parents, and that was definitely not a memory I wanted to relive anytime soon.

  Karen was already seated at the front, being his daughter and all. She wanted to show at least a little bit of respect for him, she claimed. Barbara downright refused, but told Karen she thought it was very responsible of her to do so herself. It had been an awkward conversation to say the least, but not nearly as awkward as the conversation I was about to have with the man I was starting to suspect was really behind everything.

  I was just about to take my seat next to Barbara when Darren James accidentally knocked into me, pulling what Karen would've affectionately referred to as a 'typical Taylor move.' When he apologized, however, something seemed a little bit off about him.

  "Oh, Taylor. I'm so sorry about that. I'm so sorry." Darren James, now head partner at James & Sons, seemed utterly bewildered.

  "Are you okay?" I couldn't help but ask. A weird sadness that seemed to place itself right between his thick brows. I wondered if maybe he was innocent after all, and was simply grieving the loss of a business partner and friend. I also wondered if perhaps he’d hit the bar a little bit too hard before coming here.

  "I'm sorry, I’ve just got a number of things running through my head right now. I recently had to take care of a few things that I really wish I hadn’t had to."

  Was he talking about all those properties he sold?

  "I'm sorry about that, Mr. James," I said softly, trying to win over his trust in the unlikely event that he might admit to something. After all, some people got pretty talkative when they d
rank.

  Darren sighed, quickly shaking his head, looking all around the room before taking a seat right in the pew behind me. The guy obviously needed to get something off his chest, and I was definitely not going to stop him. I could smell the whiskey on his breath from here.

  "I’ve always had a penchant for flipping houses. It's been a hobby of mine, I suppose you could say. I recently had to sell my extensive property portfolio because of everything going on with Henry's death of course, and all of the investigation that it entailed. To be honest with you, Taylor, the law firm isn't doing so great. Not with all the bad press it's been receiving lately. I did what I had to do to make sure that my employees weren’t suddenly jobless. It's been one hell of a trying time. I gave everyone the day off out of respect to Henry, but really I just needed the break myself."

  I was totally not expecting his outright candidness with me, especially right before the beginning of the funeral service, no matter how much he had drank. But I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was being one-hundred percent genuine with me, and I suddenly began to think that maybe I was wrong to suspect him of murder.

  "That is a very admirable thing to do, Mr. James. And I’m very sorry that you've been having to deal with all this. Despite what anyone else says about Mr. Mortran, I believe he was your friend, wasn't he?"

  Darren nodded. "Yes. I'd like to think so. And most definitely an esteemed colleague, a man who could argue anyone else under the table."

  Barbara leaned back, looking at the both of us. "I believe the service is about to begin," she said, signaling for us to be quiet. I gave Darren one last sad smile, and turned around to face the front. Well, at least Karen would be happy to hear Darren probably wasn’t our killer.

  The priest made his way to the podium, clearing his throat before delivering a somber eulogy. It felt so surreal to be sitting there, listening to the list of Henry’s life accomplishments, including Karen. Part of me wished I could see the look on her face when her name was brought up.

  The sound of someone sobbing loudly from the front row caught my attention in between the lull of the priest's words a few moments later.

  I fully expected to see Sydney with a handkerchief practically shoved in her face, but she was sitting at the very end of the pew — the very same one Karen was sitting in, and neither of them were making a peep, despite huge tears streaming down Sydney’s face. Across the aisle, however, Eliza, Henry's former secretary, was sniffling, her shoulders shaking from behind.

  What in the world was she doing up at the very front? Weren't those spaces typically reserved for family only?

  The words of the priest faded out of my head as other thoughts started tumbling in. All I wanted to do was tap Barbara on the shoulder and ask her what her thoughts were on Eliza sitting up front, across from Karen and Sydney. And why was she so upset? Of course, it made sense for her to be mourning the loss of her boss but…

  "Ohhh," I whispered to myself, my eyes wide as I clapped my hand over my mouth, not realizing I'd made a noise out loud until Barbara gave me a funny look.

  "Are you okay?" she whispered out of the corner of her mouth as quietly as she could.

  I bit my lip and quickly nodded.

  "Sorry," I whispered back. I wanted to just slump down to the floor and quite possibly die of mortification, having spoken out loud in the middle of the funeral service like that. What the heck was I thinking?

  But I was onto something, and the more I put it together, the faster the pieces fell into my lap. The bright red ruby ring on Henry's finger… it looked just like the one Eliza unknowingly flashed to us the first day I met her. Eliza blubbering in the front row, putting on a show while Henry’s family sat quietly on the other side. Eliza must have been having an affair with Henry! What if she wanted him to marry her, but he wouldn’t leave Sydney? What if they’d gotten into an argument over it, and she killed him? Could Eliza be the killer? And now, at his funeral, she couldn’t hold back her emotions because she was the one who had put Henry Mortran in a casket?

  I watched as Sydney shot a look that could have killed right across the aisle at Eliza who paid her absolutely no mind, her face buried in about three dozen sheets of Kleenex.

  I studied the way Sydney watched Eliza instead of focusing on what the priest was saying about her husband, and thought back to what Gina Bergen had told us when Karen and I had knocked on her door that one day, hoping for answers.

  It was practically common knowledge that Henry Mortran was a cheap flirt with a special penchant for blondes with big hair and big mouths. Sydney looked like she may have had her prime years ago, but Eliza was well within her own.

  The Swiss bank account with the current updated information flashed in my mind, and how Karen and I had wondered out loud why he was still stashing money aside. What was the point now?

  And that was when it all made sense.

  I needed to talk to Karen right away.

  Chapter 20

  I waited outside the church steps, looking for Karen's short frame in the small sea of people suddenly flooding out into the broad daylight. Practically bouncing on the balls of my feet, I needed to tell her what I’d figured out.

  I finally spotted her and caught her attention as she leaned in and hugged someone in the doorway of the church, and after a few more people had stopped to pay their respects, she managed to slip out of the crowd and hurry over to me.

  "Hey," Karen mumbled, looking downright uncomfortable. I couldn't blame her, given the circumstances.

  "Hey, yourself," I replied, trying not to jump out of my own skin. "How are you—"

  "Do. Not. I've been asked how I'm holding up so many times already today that if one more freaking person asks me, I'm going to scream. I've been better, ya know? I mean, I'm okay or whatever, but it's not the kind of day where I'm walking around whistling Dixie."

  I blinked at her, wondering if maybe I should even mention anything. Maybe this was the sort of thing that could wait until the next day. Then, I suddenly realized that was exactly what I had hated when my parents had died: people treating me like I was a piece of fragile glass.

  "What is it?" she asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bite your head off, Taylor. It's just been a weird day and—"

  "Karen, you don't have to apologize. I'm not going to make you talk about any of it, okay? I think I know you well enough by now to know better than all that. And I get what you’re going through more than most people. But there was something I wanted to talk to you about. Not necessarily about the funeral," I admitted, drawing in a deep breath and trying to recall what Barbara had said about grounding myself.

  "Go on," she urged.

  Just then, a flash of blonde hair in the corner of my eye grabbed my attention. Sydney Mortran was briskly walking in the opposite direction from everyone else, her heels clicking along quietly away from us.

  "Yeah, she seems awfully broken up now, doesn't she?" Karen shook her head. "I guess I can't really talk, though. Did you hear Eliza in the front of the church? My god, I thought I was going to have to go over there and console her myself! What a mess."

  "Karen!" I hissed, pulling her by the arm as I watched Sydney cross the road that led behind the long group of businesses down the main road. "That's what I wanted to tell you! I talked to Darren right before the service started. You were right all along: he only sold those properties because the law firm isn't doing that well and he wanted to give it a cash injection."

  She nodded. "I knew he had to have a good reason."

  "That's not all, though. I thought about it some more and happened to notice the ring on Henry's finger. It was the same one Eliza was wearing the day Sydney nearly choked you out, remember?"

  "Was it? I didn't realize."

  "Yes, I'm sure of it," I said quickly, feeling like we were about to lose our chance if we didn't hurry along and follow behind Sydney. "I think Eliza and Henry were having an affair. And, well, I know what happened between your mom and Henry. And
how Sydney was involved."

  She crooked her dark eyebrow at me, her cheeks red. "Did Mom tell you?"

  I shook my head. "No, I overheard Stephanie who owns the coffee shop and that retired professor, uh, Albert Reed. They were talking about it yesterday while your mom and I were at the shop. They came in wanting to chat with her."

  Karen blew a stray strand of hair that had escaped her French braid, out of her face. "Figures. Yeah, you probably weren't too surprised, were you?"

  "No. Not really. But listen, I was watching from a row toward the back and I saw the way Eliza and Sydney were acting during the whole service. You know how Sydney had been freaking out and all that since his death, but then she seemed totally poised during his funeral, while on the other hand, his secretary looked like she was going to swim in her own tears? At first, I thought maybe Eliza was pulling the wool over everyone. I mean, after all, she's the one who had the easiest access to Henry's office, right? Maybe she was angry that Henry hadn’t left Sydney for her."

  Karen's eyes went wide. "You think Eliza killed him?"

  "I did, but now I'm not so sure it was Eliza. Think about it for a second, Karen. The bank account with the ongoing transactions still being taken out for Henry? Why would Henry need to hide his assets if he planned on staying with Sydney forever? What if Sydney knew about them and wasn't happy? Or what if she found out about him and Eliza? I bet that would leave a pretty nasty taste in her mouth."

  "Sydney," Karen whispered, bringing her hand up to her mouth not unlike how I had back in the church. "Oh my god, you're right, Taylor!"

  I nodded, pointing to where Sydney's retreating form was already way down the block from us. "I wonder where she's going, don't you?"

  Her mouth twisted and she set her jaw, shaking her head. "I don't need to wonder. I think I know exactly where she's headed."

  Without saying another word, we both took off in the same direction, trying our best to catch up to Sydney but without drawing too much attention to ourselves.