“Maybe I should print out some from earlier to try and see who Sally interacted with.”

  “Hold on,” Belle said. “I think I’ve got something.”

  My head jerked up to stare at Belle. “What is it?”

  “It’s not good.”

  “Why?” Jules asked.

  “Because I think it might rule our Annie and Lee.”

  “What?”

  No.

  “I just found several photos timestamped for the time of the murder with both of them in the background. It doesn’t look like they ever left the main hall.”

  I groaned as I looked harder at the photo in my hand. “And I just found one with you and Sally arguing. You look furious.”

  Jules sighed. “I was. She was going on and on about how I was wasting my life and my family needed me, blah, blah, blah. I was getting sick of it. Every time we saw each other, it was the same thing.”

  “I get it. But oh no, I told Kate what we were doing and she was going to ask the photographer for the same thing. Markle may use this as evidence. It might be enough for him to arrest you.”

  Jules shrugged. “He already knew about the argument.”

  “Yeah, but I’m worried it won’t matter. Honestly, it doesn’t look great. And I haven’t found a single photo of you during the time of death. No proof you were outside. I probably just made things worse. I’m so sorry, Jules.”

  Jules wrapped his arm around me. “It’s not your fault. You’re trying to help me. You’re always trying to help. I have full confidence you’ll save me like the damsel I am.”

  “Let’s keep going. There has to be something.”

  There had to be. And I’d find it.

  We turned back to the photos, sorting through them, double checking each other’s work, the tea long since cold.

  An engine revved outside, disturbing the nice quiet road, catching my attention for a moment before I shrugged and went back to work.

  Until a crashing sound came from the window and we were showered with broken glass.

  I threw myself on top of Belle, covering her body with my own, but that same engine revved again and then all was quiet and calm.

  “Are you two okay?” Jules asked from his spot in front of us.

  He’d tried to use himself as a shield.

  I lifted my head and ran my eyes over Belle. “I’m fine. Belle?”

  She winced. “I think getting tackled hurt worse than having glass explode all over me.”

  Crap.

  “Sorry. Jules, you good?”

  “I’m fine. What was that?”

  “I don’t know. Did you hear a car out there?”

  “Yeah.”

  Something caught my eye behind Jules, so I crawled over to grab it. It was a huge rock with the word murderer painted in red on it. My hand shook as I stared down at it.

  I held it out to Jules without a word, fury stealing my voice, clogging my throat.

  Jules took it from me and slumped.

  “It was probably just teenagers, thinking they’re brave and funny. The only person who really cares that much that she’s gone are either people who love you or Fred, and none of them actually believe you did it.”

  I hoped so anyway.

  “Probably.”

  I stood. “Come on. Throw that in the garbage and let’s get this mess cleaned up. Is anyone cut?”

  “No. Shockingly. They could have really hurt one of you.”

  “Maybe we should start hanging out at our place,” Belle said.

  Jules frowned. “I don’t want them coming after the two of you.”

  I shook my head. “They won’t. We should take a few photos and let Kate know what happened.”

  “I don’t think there’s any point. It would probably convince Markle I’m even more guilty.”

  “Probably. Okay. Do you have any plastic sheeting and duct tape we can cover your window with?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’ll get it.”

  This was getting out of hand. Way out of hand.

  I had to do something, figure this out.

  Now.

  Before Jules got hurt.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I stared at our living room wall where I’d taped photos and stuck post-its and tacked up notes, trying to trigger something.

  Anything.

  Thankfully, Markle hadn’t found the photo of Sally and Jules arguing yet, or if he had, he’d decided it wasn’t enough for an arrest.

  But it was only a matter of time after the morning paper’s headline, Sheriff Still Hasn’t Made an Arrest in Sally Gardiner’s Murder.

  He had to be boiling over it. Which would make him desperate and careless.

  I was feeling pretty desperate and careless myself.

  I sighed and took a long gulp of coffee from my mug, hoping the caffeine would chase away the headache forming behind my eyes.

  Teddy was right. I should’ve broadened my search from the beginning, but I got cocky, certain I was right and that one of the three people I suspected was guilty.

  But I was clearly wrong.

  There was a slight chance that Annie or Lee had time to get back to the kitchen and kill Sally, but I wasn’t sure how.

  Fred was all throughout the photos as well. So was Kate. She hadn’t lied to me to cover for her brother.

  Good for them, bad for us.

  Jules was the only one we couldn’t show an alibi for and it was driving me crazy.

  I sank onto the couch across from my murder wall and reached for my journal, quill, and inkwell.

  It was time to try magic again. I’d been so focused on the murder, I hadn’t been experimenting much with it, or studying my old stories to figure out what exactly the connection was.

  Maybe if I could understand the magic, it would give me a way to find the killer. Regular sleuthing wasn’t working, so hopefully something supernatural would.

  I dipped the quill into the ink and wrote: I wish a photo of the real killer would fall off the wall.

  Nothing.

  I tried again. I wish the person who killed Sally had green hair.

  It would take time for me to discover if it worked, but I was willing to take the chance.

  I wish the killer’s name would appear on the wall.

  Still nothing.

  I wish this magic came with an instruction manual.

  Jules joined me, looking tired but still upset. “Still fighting the magic?”

  “Yeah. I just don’t understand it. Have you figured anything out from my old scribbles?”

  Jules shook his head. “Not really. You wrote this story about a magic ink pot that gave the user magical abilities. Same as you. The character discovered the pot, thought it was nothing at first, then weird things started happening, her wishes began coming true. Animals could talk, her hair changed, she could fly, but there were limits. Couldn’t control humans, couldn’t do anything that broke the laws of physics, so no teleportation or anything like that. Only the flight power ignored physics. It couldn’t heal or bring back the dead. You also wrote about how most of the magic was pretty pedestrian and mediocre. Jo couldn’t create something out of nothing, she could only change things that already existed. The talking animals was the best part. This is the important thing though. In your story, your character only had the power for a year before the inkwell stopped working.”

  Only a year? I didn’t know if that was good or bad.

  “Did the magic stop too? Or just her ability to use the magic?” I asked.

  “Whatever she already wished into reality stayed, but she couldn’t make any more wishes.”

  I sucked in a slow, deep breath before letting it release. “So, it stands to reason that the same thing will happen.”

  “It seems so. The question I’m curious about is which one is the magic? The inkwell or your story? Your writing?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean nothing else I’ve ever written has come true. What’s so special about this one?”

  This still all boggled my mind. Most of the time, I didn’t think about the magic since I was so busy trying to solve the murder.

  Jules sat next to me on the floor. “No clue. It’s one of the few you actually put magic in. You usually wrote about real world type stuff. You did write one other story about a magic love letter that could rearrange the words into answers to questions. Kind of like prophecy or psychic readings for the future. They were always vague and rather riddle-like.”

  “Well, we haven’t found anything like that.”

  “No. This might remain a mystery, Harri. But it sounds like you have time to figure it out. Just not forever.”

  “It does seem like the original story is the magic, since I haven’t been able to do anything with it that wasn’t in the story.”

  But why so long before it came true?

  “You still haven’t tried flight.”

  I smiled. “That’s going to be my celebration once the real killer is in jail.”

  “You know, you don’t need magic to figure this out. I believe way more in your brain than I do in unreliable magic.”

  “Thanks? I think?”

  He scowled at me. “It was a compliment.”

  “If you say so.”

  Jules shook his head. “Stop being difficult.”

  I sighed again as I turned my attention back to the wall.

  “Is that what the inside of your brain looks like?” Jules pointed to the wall.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Yikes.”

  A familiar quote popped into my head. “You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles.”

  Jules tilted his head. “Sherlock Holmes?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Why are you quoting a famous literary detective?” Jules asked.

  “Because fictional or not, he was a genius.” I shot to my feet, energy pouring through me as I figured out what I needed to do next.

  “Well, I am not a genius, so I’ll need a little more explanation than that.”

  I paced back and forth a little as my mind raced. “I’ve gotten so caught up in the big picture, I’ve ignored the little clues here and there.”

  “Okay...”

  “I need to go back to the beginning. Start fresh.”

  Jules frowned. “How do you want to do that?”

  “I need you to go through everything you remember one more time. From every interaction you had with Sally to finding her body. And anything

  “I might need something stronger for this.”

  “Pour me one as well.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Jules returned with two drinks and held one out to me. “Okay, so I avoided her pretty easily during the planning stages since I was usually with Will and the other groomsmen. You and Belle would know more about the pre-wedding planning than I would.”

  “I’ll talk through it with Belle in the morning.” Though she and I had tried out best to stay out of all the lady get-togethers.

  “She actually left me alone for the wedding and the first half of the reception. Once she got a couple drinks in her, that’s when she started bothering me.”

  “And it was just the usual stuff? Nothing unusual or different? Did she mention anyone else?” I scribbled notes onto a few spare sheets of paper, wanting to make sure I got the information right.

  Jules sipped at his drink. “She just went on and on about how awful the wedding was and that Mauve was a fool for hiring Vanessa. Something about Mauve being a bleeding heart.”

  “I can’t say she was wrong there.”

  Jules snorted. “Yeah, it wasn’t the simple, sweet outdoor wedding Mauve and Will wanted, was it?”

  “Not at all. Was that your only real interaction?”

  Jules nodded. “Yeah. I got a bit snippy with her this time. I just...lost patience. I guess after that, she decided to give me some space.”

  “You’ve shown incredible restraint when it comes to her for a long time.”

  She was a lot to handle.

  Jules sighed. “Yeah, but if I’d shown it just a little longer, I wouldn’t be the number one suspect in her murder.”

  “Maybe. But you found her body. That’s a strike against you.”

  “Which you’d think would take me out of the running.”

  “Afraid not. Did you see her have a heated conversations with anyone else? Lee or Annie?”

  He shook his head. “No. Just Vanessa.”

  “I assume to complain about the wedding right to Vanessa’s face?” It was a guess, but Sally wasn’t exactly shy in her opinions.

  “Yeah, but Vanessa shrugged it off, and Sally turned her attention to vying with April for eligible dance partners.”

  “Honestly I could see April killing her if she’d had the opportunity, but she never left the reception hall.”

  Jules chuckled. “Yeah.”

  “Anything else that you noticed during the reception?” I asked.

  “No, that was it. Maybe twenty minutes later, I headed out for some air. You know how I can get at large gatherings like that.”

  “I know. I can’t count how many times we hid over the years, taking a break from all the madness.”

  A slight grin formed on his lips. “You usually with a book.”

  “They’re basically security blankets for me.”

  “I know. Most of my memories of you involve books in some way.”

  “And most of mine of you involve music.”

  Jules leaned back on his arms. “I miss the days when it was the two of us with your sisters, putting on plays, reading poetry in the garden, playing music and singing together.”

  “All our free time was spent with art and nature.”

  The good old days.

  That probably weren’t as perfect as I remembered.

  “Yeah. Now, we’ve all gone our separate ways, tied down with bills and jobs and responsibilities. No more time for dreams and play.”

  I smiled. “Maybe we have to start making more of an effort. Creating time for dreams and play. That’s what this summer was supposed to be about for Belle and us. But first, we have to keep you from being drawn up on murder charges. So tell me again everything you remember about finding Sally dead.”

  Jules sobered, losing the nostalgic light in his eyes. “You and I finished our dance, and I headed for the kitchen for something to drink. I guess Vanessa had given the kitchen staff a break because they were just getting back to work prepping for the cake cutting and punch. Vanessa came in looking stressed and already had her hands full of plates and cutlery, so she asked me to grab some ice in the freezer, but there wasn’t any, so I went back to the secondary freezer in the side kitchen. And there she was, lifeless on the floor. Vanessa followed me in, saw her, and screamed. Then, the kitchen staff came running and soon after that you showed up. You know everything else.”

  So far, nothing was sticking out for me.

  “Did you overhear anything at the wedding once people realized what was going on?”

  “Just the usual gossip and whispers we’ve been hearing all week since it happened.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Have you figured it out yet?” Jules asked.

  I shook my head. “Not yet. But I’m going to add what little new information you gave me and redo my murder wall. I’m hoping if I move things around and fiddle with the timeline, it might spark something. But you look exhausted and should go home.”

  “No. I’ll stay and keep you company. Especially since you’re doing this for me. I don’t much feel like being in my house anyway after the whole rock thing.”

  I shrugged. “Fair enough. The couch is free if you get tired.”

  “I’ll just sit here and read. If you need me, let me know.”

  “Don’t be offended if I ignore you.”

  He laughed. “No worries. I know how you get.”

  I shrugged and shot him an unrepentant grin before I started taking everything off the wall, sorting things into separate piles —- social media, wedding, alibis, motives, notes, statements, rumors.

  Within moments, I lost myself to the work, almost manic in my search for the truth, everything else disappearing as I worked. Just like when I wrote. I could disappear for hours, days when the muse struck.

  And the muse was certainly striking now. I just wasn’t sure where it was leading me.

  I fanned all the photos out around me on the floor, searching the faces of every single person, hoping to find someone else who might have had a reason to kill Sally. Or even just get into an argument with her that got out of hand.

  The problem was, at least eighty percent of the guests at the wedding could’ve gotten into a fight with her. Myself included.

  Something under the short bookcase against the wall caught my eye, so I carefully crawled over my piles to bend down and reach under the small space, sliding what was a photo out from its hiding place.

  I’d already seen this one, it wasn’t helpful. Just a picture of the centerpieces with a blurred background of the corner of the dance floor. I could make out Mother and Vanessa standing with a couple servers. Probably last minute instructions since the tables were empty except for the places settings and centerpieces.

  The photo must have somehow fallen behind the bookshelf when I set it aside as unhelpful.

  How disappointing. I’d hoped it was some new info that would have the answer for me, but just another dead end.

  This wasn’t working.

  I needed a change of scenery.

  It was time for me to go back to the scene of the crime. I’d heard from Mauve that the techs and deputies were finished with the reception hall and she’d finally been able to get back inside to collect all the gifts they’d had to leave behind. Vanessa went with her and had taken charge of everything, getting out thank you cards so Mauve and Will could still leave for their honeymoon.

  I looked over at Jules, planning to ask if he wanted to go on a late night adventure, but at some point while I worked, he’d fallen asleep on the couch, the Raymond Chandler novel he’d been reading lying open and facedown on his chest.

  A soft smile raised the corners of my lips and I stood with a groan as my body protested the way it’d been folded up on the floor for so long. I stretched and relief spread through my joints as they popped and released some of the tension.