Cassidy chided herself for getting distracted. “We had a contractor come out this week and look at the cave to see what it would cost to turn it into a venue. Austin thinks we could have small concerts or comedy acts there when we’re not hosting an event.”

  His friendly grin faded, and Zac furrowed his brow as he turned his head to watch the passersby.

  “What, you don’t like the idea?” she asked, wondering what had brought on the quick change in his demeanor.

  “No, that’s not it. I was thinking of something else. Never mind. I think that would be cool.”

  “I want Levi to build a bar that we can use to hold the historic counter from the honky-tonk with all its signatures. Somebody put a coat of Polyurethane on it, and it seems to have aged well. You can actually still read most of the famous autographs.”

  “Sheriff Howell has fond memories of the old place. He mentions it from time to time when he talks about the good ole days in Ivy Springs. He has lots of stories about what went on there and the acts that came to perform.”

  Cassidy felt a wry smile creep across her face. “That’s interesting. He and I have never had any long conversations. I guess he’s different around his coworkers. I mean, not so official.”

  It was Zac’s turn to smile. “Not really. He’s always brusque, but he does have a sense of humor that comes out every once in a while.”

  I’ve never seen a humorous side to the sheriff. Maybe I should chat him up sometime about the honky-tonk and the fire. He might have an interesting take on things.

  13

  MONDAY EVENING AND TUESDAY MORNING

  The rest of dinner was unusually quiet. Then Zac got a text, and the alert seemed to echo across the patio. “It’s work. Dinner was fun. Gotta run.” He tossed enough cash for both dinners on the table and jogged down the street. Well, at least I can say I had dinner with someone, even if he did run away unexpectedly.

  “Okay, Elvis, we should head out too.” She added more money to make a hefty tip and waved to Jamal. But when she tried to guide the dog back to the Jeep, Elvis had other ideas.

  Not ready to head back home, Elvis trotted down the sidewalk, and they wended their way around the clusters of shoppers and tourists in front of the eclectic stores and restaurants. It’s nice to see people out and about on a weeknight. The boutiques, galleries, and all the new eateries have good crowds.

  Cassidy and Elvis strolled down the sidewalk until they reached the edge of the business district. A sprawling neighborhood with mature trees sprang up out of nowhere. The Victorian homes in this area reminded Cassidy of dollhouses, with all the gingerbread trim and the pastel colors. Several were being renovated for bed-and-breakfasts, thanks to some rezoning. The small-town charm, the tree-lined streets, and the perfectly manicured flowerbeds provided the ideal backdrop for tourists who wanted a cozy getaway within walking distance to town.

  After an enjoyable stroll through the neighborhood, Cassidy and Elvis made their way back to the Jeep. The chihuahua hopped into the passenger seat as Cassidy buckled in. On the way home, her phone blew up, with a continuous series of pings. Resisting the urge to check the string of texts, she sped along the open country road, taking pleasure in navigating the curves, and pulling through the Celebrations wrought-iron gate in record time. Elvis danced in his seat as she paused to check the texts from the Pearly Girls that seemed to have multiplied during the short ride home.

  The gist of the long discussion was that appetizers and drinks had led to another yarn-bombing expedition. Ruthanne and Aileen were leading the charge to decorate a senior facility for fall over in Mint Springs. I guess their secret’s all over social media, so they aren’t sneaking around anymore and trying to hide their identities. From the pictures, it looks like they were having a party and recruiting more knitters for future escapades.

  Cassidy smiled and helped Elvis out of the Jeep. Not yet ready to head inside, he led her on a jaunt to the garden’s koi pond. Cassidy stood by the wedding arch and watched the sun drop behind trees on the ridge across the valley. The sky’s orangey reds turned a purply gray color, and the night sounds took over the garden as a cool breeze rustled through the trees.

  “Come on, Elvis. It’s getting chilly, and we’ve got some work to do.”

  Inside her apartment, Cassidy streamed some smooth jazz and settled at her dining-room table. The dueling mysteries in her head battled for her attention. Detective Zac didn’t share much information, per usual. He likes to play it close to his bulletproof vest. Now I want to know where he went in such a hurry. Maybe he got a lead on the murders.

  While her laptop booted, she pulled out her folder and spread the contents across the table. Hopping up, she rummaged through her desk drawer for a stack of colorful sticky notes and a black Sharpie. “Elvis, I think I need to see a visual to make some connections.”

  Not interested in the neon notes or the details of the murders, Elvis curled up on the couch for an after-dinner nap.

  Cassidy spent several hours making a column of facts for Britt, and one for Darcy. As in life, Britt’s space stood out front and center with twice as many colored squares. Most of what she found online for Darcy were her professional credits, work at The Washington Post, and a couple of online magazines. She had also authored two nonfiction books. Cassidy couldn’t find anything related to her life in Ivy Springs, though. Her biography appeared to have been carefully crafted and focused exclusively on her credentials. No mention of any kind of a social life or her earlier days growing up in the valley.

  An idea flashed in her head, and she pulled up a website she had used last summer that had digitized versions of high school yearbooks. A couple of clicks later, she was thumbing through four years’ worth of Ivy Springs High School digital yearbooks.

  Time flew by as she got lost in the years of photos and a parade of memories. Cassidy stood and stretched to ward off the kinks when her back started to ache. She hadn’t uncovered anything unexpected in the pages and pages of candid photos and school pictures. Darcy didn’t appear very frequently, only in shots for the school newspaper and the drama club. Britt and Kelly were everywhere, and Anastasia seemed to worm her way into all the cool kid pictures, but she was always on the fringes. From her body language in the shots, it always looked like she was never truly part of the group.

  “Hmm. Elvis, Anastasia either was a lucky late bloomer, or she had a good plastic surgeon.” Her nose, mouth, and chin had been sculpted by her junior year, and she had dropped at least twenty pounds and lost the glasses and braces. “Interesting. The brassy hair color and style are the same.”

  After a few more clicks, she had a few things to add to Anastasia’s section of the dining-room wall. Cassidy stood back and stared at the rainbow wall that was three-quarters covered with neon stickies. Anastasia’s father was a doctor, and her mother was a real-estate agent. She had been immersed in dance, horseback riding, and cotillion since elementary school. After college, she had moved back in with her parents and stayed put in one of the old Victorians a block or so from Main Street. She had never married.

  Staring at the wall of notes made Cassidy feel like her eyes were full of sand. Switching gears, she googled her grandfather’s honky-tonk, hoping to find something new about her own little mystery.

  Buried on the fourth or fifth page of search results, Cassidy found a link to a book about the musical history of Virginia, and the Ivy Springs tonk was mentioned. She let out a little squeal, and Elvis raised both ears.

  A surge of excitement spread through her like a shot of tequila. Cassidy downloaded the ebook and scoured the index. The author had an entire chapter on musical traditions along the I-81 corridor, and there were photos of the old wooden structure and one of a band on stage inside the old bar. Another photo showed her great-grandfather, grandfather, and a young Levi posing next to the steps of the wooden building that looked more like a cabin. “Elvis, I’m going to order a hardcover version of this for our lobby. I don’t think I’ve ever seen photos like these before. Come to think of it, my grandparents never talked much about the bar or had any photos around. I remember seeing the charred remains in the woods. The site always had the feel of one of those abandoned places.”

  She reread the chapter about the Blue Ridge Mountains twice. The author noted that her grandfather’s bar was destroyed by fire, and the owners chose not to rebuild. So, nothing new here, but the photos are cool.

  Cassidy heard a noise outside, and she jumped. Elvis let out a little growl, but he curled back up on the couch when nothing materialized. She paused and tiptoed toward the kitchen window. “I don’t see anything, Elvis. Maybe it was the wind. We should turn in. Falling asleep at the dining-room table is not good for my neck or back.” She rolled her shoulders and head as she checked the door and flipped off all the lights.

  Lying in bed, sleep evaded her. She stared at the pitch-black darkness with only a sliver of light in the tiny gap between the curtains and the window. Thoughts of the murders and the list of suspects kept creeping into her subconscious. Zac said Darcy was killed first. Someone or several someones killed her and found the hiding place under the loft. Then someone killed Britt, and the killer left the knife under the carpet where we found her. But it was after the police had already investigated. And Darcy’s car key and other stuff were found in the garden. Anastasia said the knife belonged to Britt’s ex-husband. Cassidy made a mental note to talk to Mac again. Was it one or two killers? That question danced around the edge of her thoughts. Could one person kill them and then move the bodies without any help? Both mysteries muddled together in her head. How did the police handle multiple cases at the same time and keep all the facts straight and still manage to get to sleep at night?

  Cassidy tossed and turned for hours and then woke with a jolt. The sun’s rays streaked across the ceiling and the wall opposite her bed. “Elvis, did you hear something?” The mighty mite of a dog yawned and rolled over. “Maybe I was dreaming again. Okay, today let’s see what some of my sources in town are saying about the murders. Then I’m going to check in at the library to see what they have in their files about the fire. This is a small town. Somebody has to know something.”

  She double-timed her morning routine, found a casual outfit, fed Elvis, and slipped on her tennis shoes for his morning walk to greet the koi. Elvis stretched his outside time into a tour of the grotto, cave, and a lap around the barn. All was quiet around the property. Thankfully, the only things they spotted were some new fall flowers and a couple of birds.

  Cassidy finally persuaded Elvis to return to the apartment. As he settled in, she grabbed her keys and purse and fired off a quick text to the Pearly Girls and Levi that she’d be in the office after lunch. That started a flood of responses about what the gals were each up to, which Cassidy decided she would take the time to read later in favor of getting her own day started.

  She rolled down her windows and cranked up an oldies station in the Jeep. The crisp morning air smelled good. Cassidy had missed the fresh, mountain scents when she lived in the city. Actually, she was so busy there that she hardly ever noticed the breeze, sunshine, or even the changing of the seasons. I’m glad to be back in Ivy Springs. The mountains feel like they’re part of my DNA.

  Finding parking in the free lot next to the Baptist church, Cassidy hoofed it around the corner to her first stop, Brew’d Awakening. Her quest today required a heavy dose of caffeine and sugar.

  Marcie Chen looked up from behind one of her coffeemakers that spewed steam into a small cloud. “Good morning, Cassidy. You’re out and about early this morning. What can I get for you?” she asked with a happy wave.

  “Everything looks wonderful.” Cassidy glanced at the glass case full of breakfast delights. “How about a vanilla bean iced latte and one of those apple turnovers?”

  “Great choice,” Marcie said. “Mom pulled the pastries out of the oven just a few minutes ago.”

  Before Cassidy could ask Marcie any questions, Deannie Sullivan, owner of Bearly Collectibles across the street, sidled up to the counter. “Hey, y’all. Good morning. Cassidy, how are things at your place? I heard about what happened. How awful. Are you and the gals okay?” She wiggled with an exaggerated shiver. “Sorry to bring up dark thoughts and the murders,” she whispered. Before anyone could comment, Deannie continued, “Hey, Marcie, can I have one of your killer dark roasts and a fudge tart? Oooh, I guess my choice of adjectives wasn’t the best. Sorry.”

  “Be right up. Here you go, Cassidy,” Marcie said, handing her a white bag and her iced coffee.

  Deannie looked over her shoulder and around the store to see who else was around. “The deaths of Darcy and Britt were shocking. Britt was a regular in my store. She collected the Boyds Bears figurines, so she was in whenever the new shipments arrived. I’ll miss chatting with her about her collection.”

  “Anybody know Darcy?” Cassidy asked, hoping for any tidbit she could find.

  Both women shook their heads. “She had already moved away by the time I got here. I heard snippets about her from time to time. The town’s proud of their famous journalist,” Marcie said, handing Deannie a steaming cup of coffee and a paper bag.

  Sensing that the conversation had run its course, Cassidy waved to Marcie and made her way out, with Deannie on her heels. Their paths diverged on the sidewalk, and Cassidy found an empty bench across from A Novel Idea to enjoy her breakfast. Cars drifted by on their way into town, and a couple of joggers and dog-walkers passed by. Everyone smiled and waved a greeting. Not like mornings in a busy city where everyone was in a constant rush all the time.

  After the last bite of the gooey breakfast treat, she wiped her fingers on a napkin and found a nearby trash can. On a whim, she doubled back and opened the heavy oak doors of the bookstore, bells jingling to announce her arrival. Cassidy breathed in the smell of books. A sense of wonder and peace spread through her. The store, filled with rows and rows of floor-to-ceiling shelves, had books and gifts on every available flat surface.

  “Hey, Cassidy,” Ahni Rao called from somewhere in the store.

  “Good morning, Ahni. Where are you?” Cassidy craned her neck down several aisles, looking for the owner with the lilting voice.

  “Back here in Romance. We got a big order in, and I’m restocking.”

  Cassidy made her way around bookcases and found the petite woman stacking new releases on a nearby shelf. “There you are. I couldn’t see you from up front.”

  Ahni laughed. “Don’t think I’m clairvoyant. I can see the front of the store in those.” Ahni pointed to the mirrors in the corners. Dusting her hands off on her jeans, she continued, “There. I think that looks pretty good. Romance is always popular. Hopefully, they won’t be on my shelves long. What can I do for you?”

  “I wanted to see what you had in your Local History section,” Cassidy said, flipping through some of the new titles.

  “Over there. Second shelf by the front window. Left side.” Ahni pointed down the aisle. “They sell well to the tourists. Help yourself, and holler if you need anything. If you don’t find something you’re interested in, I can always order it for you.”

  “Thanks. I’m doing some research on Ivy Springs,” Cassidy said, heading to the front of the store where Ahni had pointed.

  About ten minutes later, the storekeeper popped her head around the corner. “Finding everything okay?”

  “Yes, thanks. I was looking to see what I could find on my family’s old honky-tonk.”

  “Make sure you check the library’s History room. They have a really good collection. I used it when I was doing some deed research,” Ahni said.

  “That’s my next stop. I’ll take this one about the musical history of the area and this one about haunted places in the Blue Ridge Mountains,” Cassidy said, handing her the two paperbacks and her debit card.

  Ahni tapped on her tablet and scanned the card. When the device beeped, she offered Cassidy the card and a “Read Banned Books” paper bag full of her purchases.

  “Thanks. Take care.” Cassidy pushed on the front door, and the bells on the handle jangled again. Shakespeare, the fluffy store cat, darted out between two shelves, startling Cassidy. “Hey, baby. I didn’t know you were nearby. It’s good to see you.” She leaned over and stroked the Persian’s neck as he wound between her legs.

  Ahni’s cheerful laugh drifted through the store. “He’s my greeter. Though he often slacks off on his duties. He has several secret napping nooks in the stacks. Come back and see us soon.”

  Deciding to leave the Jeep where it was, Cassidy walked down the street and around the corner to the library. A crowd of about ten people stood outside the large glass doors. Checking her Fitbit, she saw she had about ten minutes to kill before the doors opened, and, knowing Marion, the head librarian, it would open precisely on time.

  Scrolling through her Instagram feed, Cassidy paused on photos of the gals decorating the senior center. Cassidy smiled. She pocketed her phone when Marion unlocked the door and welcomed the people inside who had been waiting on the sidewalk. Since no patrons gathered around the desk, Cassidy stepped in front of Marion’s space. “Good morning. Ruthanne suggested that I pop in. I’m doing some research on my granddad’s honky-tonk, and she said there may be something in the archives here.”

  “And she’s right. We have lots of things on our local history. And thanks to your grandparents, who were huge patrons, we had the funding for the conference center and the local history program. Your granddad even donated some photos to the collection. Here, let me show you.”

  Cassidy followed the woman in the crepe-soled shoes, dodging carts, small children, and bookcases as she threaded her way to the back of the building. Marion flipped the lights on and ushered Cassidy into a smallish room with microfiche readers and three computers lining each wall. “Over the years, volunteers have digitized our collection, so start here on the computer. It’s like any other search engine. Kate and Aileen said you were a technology whiz. Call me if you have problems, but I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with the software. You can print copies over there of anything you want to keep.”