“In your own words, you couldn’t handle the guilt,” Mona said. “You did it.”

  Lucas hadn’t said much, but joined the conversation now. “Claire, were you talking about the stolen jewelry?”

  Claire nodded. “Jeremiah found out and confiscated them. He was holding it over my head just to be cruel.”

  “Which is why you killed him,” Hannah stated.

  “Hannah”—Mona turned to face her—“you didn’t tell me you were at the murder scene that day. That reveals guilt. Plus, the level of your voice and your anger is manufactured. You are hiding something. Why didn’t you tell me you’d witnessed a murder?”

  “That’s obvious.” Jamie flashed a snide look. “Then she’d have to admit why she was there. She’d lose the house if anyone found out about her sabotage.”

  Hannah hissed back, “You were perfectly fine overlooking that fact.”

  “I didn’t know for sure.”

  “Whatever.”

  “You were willing to make it seem like there were ghost noises,” Mona said. “That tells me you were willing to be underhanded in your approach to buying a house. If the possibility of a ghost would lower the cost of a house, a murder would lower it even more. Sometimes, a person in that situation is willing to take the next step. Hannah, did you murder Jeremiah Fisher?”

  “You wicked woman,” Claire hissed at Hannah.

  Belle jabbed the gnome into her back a touch harder. “You’re good, Hannah. You almost had everyone fooled. You came to remove evidence of your sabotage, but I think you saw an opportunity. When Claire left, you threatened Jeremiah with what you knew. You threatened or blackmailed Jeremiah into lowering the cost of the house. But Jeremiah Fisher wasn’t the type of man to accept a bribe. I’m not sure you could handle that. In fact, I bet he insulted and provoked until you were furious.”

  “Furious enough to kill,” Lucas finished.

  “You can’t prove it.” Hannah reached to her waist.

  At the same time, Lucas and Mona raised their arms, guns in-hand, Belle lifted the gnome and hit Hannah.

  She didn’t hit her too hard, just enough to hurt, to distract, to allow the detectives a chance.

  Lucas rushed. He wrapped his arms around her.

  Mona moved toward them. “Hannah Lewis, you’re under the arrest for the murder of Jeremiah Fisher.” She cuffed her. “Let’s go.”

  “You can’t do this,” Hannah screeched. “You have no proof. I’ll sue the police. They won’t ever have peace.”

  Mona didn’t take the bait but led her to the car.

  “Um.” Jamie shifted on his feet. “Can I leave?”

  Lucas nodded. “I wouldn’t go far. I’m sure Detective Malloy will want to talk to you again.” When Jamie left, he turned to Claire. “I can cuff you or you can come willingly to the station.”

  Claire trembled, eyes wide. She looked ready to break down. She whispered, “I can’t go to prison. Do you know what they’d do to a woman like me?”

  Belle could tell he tried not to laugh. “The people in your neighborhood, the ones you stole from, well, they weren’t very cooperative when I questioned them. They acted like they didn’t care about the jewelry. If anything, they protected you. I’d bet if you returned everything, they won’t press charges.”

  She deflated, relieved. “I was going to return them. I couldn’t follow through with selling them. I was just hoping that if I offered Jerry more money, he’d let me have Sweet’ums. He threatened he’d fight for the dog in the divorce. That’s when he found the jewelry. He was going to the police unless I confessed. That’s what we were arguing about the day he was murdered. I was trying to work something out.”

  As they left, Lucas dropped his gaze to the decorative weapon still in Belle’s hands. “Really, a garden gnome?”

  Belle shrugged, smiling. “It worked. I had left it in your car.” His car. Belle thought about the state of his car, more specifically the driver’s side mirror. “Um, there’s something you should know about. You see, I had a tiny mishap…”

  Chapter Eighteen

  They gathered at Lucas’ house that night. He had missed the pumpkin derby, so they were re-enacting it in the driveway. Bixby had made his own version of a car, even if the wheels looked a bit off and it didn’t roll straight.

  Lucas and Lexie were inside putting the finishing touches on her car. She had raced it, and a wheel had come off.

  “I can’t believe they all confessed, to everything but the murder,” Bixby said.

  “It was quite the show. I’m sure Claire will need a week at the spa.”

  “Or, she’ll act like she does.”

  “You know, you’re right. She’s made of pretty strong stuff. I hope she’s at home snuggling with Sweet’ums. I bet the lawyer was more willing to cooperate on the whereabouts of the dog with the police there.”

  “Do you think they’ll have enough evidence if Hannah refuses to confess?”

  Belle shrugged. “We’ll find out. Detective Malloy has a logical way of presenting the facts. It might leave Hannah no choice when she sees it laid out in front of her. When she realizes the court might go easier on her if she confesses.” She added, “Sorry you were left running the coffee station and the raffle table.”

  “I don’t mind as long as justice was served. The bad guys caught. Anyway, it was a smooth transition from offering free coffee to asking customers to purchase a raffle ticket or two. The freebie put them in a generous mood.”

  “Maybe we should run our business off donations,” she teased.

  “Eliza debated the same thing.”

  Just as Lucas walked out with the pumpkin on wheels, Lexie at his heels, Phil and Joan pulled up, parking on the road. Of course, they would be invited. Belle knew Lucas hadn’t talked to his dad all week. She knew the tension and the lies ate at him. One more mystery to solve.

  She grew nervous at the upcoming tense moment. Would they fight? Would Phil leave in a huff? “Maybe we should go,” she whispered to Bixby.

  Lucas placed the pumpkin on the porch and strode down the driveway. Neither of them hesitated but wrapped each other in a hug. It wasn’t forced or awkward. It was a bear hug and it lasted more than a couple seconds. Belle couldn’t believe it. Shocked. Immediately, her throat ached, her eyes burned. She’d never seen such love in a family. They would just do that without talking it through?

  They pulled away, but Phil left his arm around his son. Phil announced, his voice crackling. “Gather round everyone. I have an announcement.”

  Belle stood, confused. Bixby tugged on her arm, so they moved toward the end of the driveway.

  “As you may have realized, I didn’t murder anyone. But I feel I owe you all an explanation about last week. Why I was late to lunch.”

  “Dad, it’s okay. I trust you. Everyone has their secrets. You’re allowed yours. I never should have demanded you tell me.”

  Phil softened. “I know, Lucas. It touched me more than you know to see you want to clear my name. I was able to tell Detective Malloy everything. Soon after, my name was removed from the suspect list.” He addressed everyone. “But it no longer needs to be a secret.” He moved next to Joan. “As you know our wedding anniversary is coming up. And, darn it all, Joan, whether you want to or not, we’re going on a vacation. A second honeymoon. I was talking with a colleague about it as they had experience.” He beamed. “We’re going on a cruise.”

  Everyone cheered and clapped. Bixby whistled.

  Belle watching, soaking in the couple’s actions as Joan gazed up at him lovingly. “Where will the cruise take you?”

  “I don’t care as long as it’s warm,” she said, causing everyone to laugh.

  “Well,” Phil said, “I’m hoping for Alaska.” He winked at Joan. “I’m sure we’ll find a compromise.” He shifted gears. “Enough about us. How about this pumpkin derby?”

  “Yes. It’s time!” Lucas announced. They moved to the top of the driveway.

  Belle was still somewhat in shock at how easily they forgave and moved on. Lucas allowed his dad secrets and admitted he’d pushed too far. Everyone might have secrets. This last case proved that. Claire had her secret of her adventures as a cat burglar all for the love of Sweet’ums. Jamie kept secrets for his client, even though murder might be at play. And Hannah? She kept the secret of trying to sabotage the sale, and a murder.

  “Hey, Belle. You coming?” Lucas asked.

  She was standing in the middle of the race course. “Oh, right.” She went and stood next to him, unsure of what to say.

  Lexie and Bixby took time to set up their pumpkin cars. Joan had her phone set to take pictures. Phil had the stopwatch out for the countdown.

  “Are we ready?” Phil cried.

  “Ready!” Bixby and Lexie answered.

  Phil shouted, “Three, two…one!”

  They let go of their pumpkin cars, which took off at a rambling rate. Lexie’s went straight down the driveway to the finish line. Bixby’s veered off to the side into the grass. Everyone cheered!

  Lucas nudged Belle. “There’s one last mystery to solve.”

  “Oh, what’s that?” She tried to act nonchalant.

  “Who plowed down my mailbox.”

  “Yeah, um, about that…”

  Late that night, unable to sleep, Belle stared into the darkness. She kept replaying in her mind, the way Lucas and his father hugged each other, the look in their eyes, the way they unashamedly loved one another and forgave. She wanted that.

  Like you deserve that. That’s not for people like you.

  “Shut up,” Belle said out loud, to the voice of her uncle in her head. It felt good. “Just shut up.”

  Once upon a time, a young woman saw what it was like to be in a family. She saw love in action. As she fell asleep one night, she whispered into the darkness. I’m going to have that one day.

  The next morning, she arrived earlier than usual at The Beanery. At the jingle of the bell when she opened the door, Bixby exited the kitchen.

  “You’re here early.”

  “Well, one of the things Aunt Eliza wanted me to do was attend church. I thought today was as good a day as ever.”

  She’d been thinking about it more anyway. She would need to talk with Eliza’s lawyer again, Mr. Whitfield. Find out what else she needed to do within the year.

  “That’s wonderful. Eliza would be so pleased.”

  The next hour or so went by quickly. She greeted and smiled at the customers. Several of them commented on how they tried the coffee at the festival and had to visit. She kept an eye on the time as the rush dwindled.

  The bell jingled.

  Mona Malloy walked inside.

  “Mona, hi! A pumpkin spice?”

  “Yes, please.” Mona approached the counter. “I am glad I can visit your coffee shop again.”

  “Me, too.” She prepared the coffee. “I assume using your detective skills you were able to convince Hannah to confess?” Belle laughed. “Oh, wait. That’s probably confidential. Sorry.”

  “There is nothing top secret about it now. The papers will be releasing the news tomorrow. Yes, she confessed.”

  “Congratulations. You’re a terrific detective.”

  Mona tilted her head and pushed the glasses up her nose. “It’s not about being terrific or not. It’s about the facts. They always lead to the answer.”

  “Of course.” She whispered, “But you’re still a great detective.”

  “To that I will say thank you for the compliment.”

  Belle handed her the to-go cup. “Are you applying for the position here in Everly?”

  “I’m undecided.”

  They exchanged goodbyes. Belle watched her walk out the door, thinking back on the first day when Mona mysteriously announced she was in town for murder. She was a good detective and Belle wished her the best.

  Belle slipped into the church a few minutes late. She found a seat in the back. It reminded her of Eliza’s memorial service. The beautiful church with the stained-glass windows had the same effect on her now. It brought a feeling of peace.

  She enjoyed, even if overwhelmed, the moving pieces of the service. She stumbled through it. She listened to the songs. She felt a bit confused by the repeated words as they felt strange and unfamiliar, but instead of stressing about it, she soaked it in. She kneeled. She stood. She listened to the readings from the bible and the sermon. It felt like a dance. Like once someone was familiar with the routine, with the words, the music, it would be familiar. A comfort.

  It ended. Belle wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it. As she left, the priest stood at the door. He was dressed in his robes, an older man, but he had a friendly, approachable look about him. Like he could be a favorite uncle.

  “Belle Baron, right?”

  She was somewhat taken aback he knew her. “Yes. I’m Belle.”

  “Call me Father John. My apologies. I tried to talk to you after Eliza’s funeral service but there were a lot of people.”

  “Yes, there was. A busy day.” She felt a twinge in her chest.

  “I was good friends with Eliza Baron.”

  “Somehow, I’m not surprised.” She laughed. “Eliza seemed to know everyone.”

  “I have something to give you from her.”

  What?

  She waited until he’d talked with the rest of the congregation, then he said he’d be right back. He returned with an envelope with her name on it. “This is for you. It’s from Eliza. I had specific instructions not to give it to you until you attended a service.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope you’ll be back.”

  “I think I will.”

  “If you ever need to talk, or if you have questions about your faith, I’m here.”

  “Thanks.”

  She left, clutching the letter to her chest. A letter! From Aunt Eliza! She wasn’t sure whether to open it or not. Of course, it was just like Eliza to leave bread crumbs to bigger things.

  Sitting in the driver’s seat of the station wagon, she held it up. Aunt Eliza kept proving to be a mystery. What other clues were out there?

  She opened the envelope. It contained a piece of paper. The paper had only two words. A first and last name.

  More secrets. More mysteries.

  Valerie Barnes.

  Who was Valerie Barnes?

  Belle and Lucas face one of their most

  challenging cases yet in:

  Peppermint Mocha Murder

  Thanks for reading Pumpkin Spice Murder!

  Turn the page for a sneak peek at

  Peppermint Mocha Murder.

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  Peppermint Mocha Murder!

  Peppermint Mocha Murder Sneak Peek

  Belle stood at the threshold of the kitchen, cup of coffee in-hand, and stared at what looked like a crime scene. Yesterday, she’d brought down the boxes marked Christmas from the attic. She realized as soon as she opened the box she didn’t have many ornaments in-tact.

  The delicate red bauble that had broken now had sharp jagged edges. Any one of the ornaments or decor could be a weapon. The creepy Santa Claus figurine with the eye paint rubbed away, sat there and stared, unblinking and blind. No ho, ho, hos or holly jolly Christmas from him.

  She couldn’t overlook the miniature manger scene with the baby Jesus missing, and the angel with no head. A clean decapitation.

  The rabbit hole of Christmas memories stood before her. She knew better than to go down that path. It would take a time machine to go back to a holiday season with her parents before they died, and the brief time she lived with Aunt Eliza…before she was murdered.

  She looked to Sir Jack, her inherited blue-fronted Amazon parrot. “What am I going to do with all this stuff, Sir Jack?”

  “A tree,” he squawked. “A tree.”

  Hmm. A Christmas tree would be nice.

  Her gaze shifted to the box of colored lights, and she groaned inwardly. The thought of untangling them and hanging them up by herself wasn’t appealing, but she’d done this before.

  Belle straightened, feeling a spark of determination inside.

  She wouldn’t let loneliness ruin Christmas.

  There were so many things in her life that brought a rush of gratitude, welling up like a hot spring. This old run-down house that provided a roof over her head, even if it needed fixing up. The Beanery that brought in income and provided Bixby with a job. And, of course, her friends, even if she most likely wouldn’t be with them on Christmas.

  She thought about the drawer in the kitchen and the piece of paper with a name on it.

  Valerie Barnes.

  The priest at the Episcopal church had given her the message from Aunt Eliza. The same church Eliza had attended and where they’d held the funeral. Belle had spent a few days trying track Valerie down.

  Valerie Barnes was either an interior decorator, a life coach, or a crochet expert offering classes. She would bet anything that Valerie Barnes was a life coach. Aunt Eliza was encouraging her from the great beyond to make an appointment. That phone line had been disconnected.

  The mass of decorations caught her eye again. She took a deep breath. She could do this.

  It wouldn’t take long to sort through the tangled mess of tinsel and ribbons. Some black and white paint would take care of the creepy Santa Claus, and the broken stuff could be tossed.

  Belle began to hum the first tune that came to mind, then she broke out laughing. It could have been “White Christmas” or “O Holy Night” or something a little less violent than “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer”.