He’d wait.

  It took the entire drive to the house, parking, then when he turned off the car, he heard her quiet voice.

  “I have to tell you something.”

  It sparked a tiny bit of panic. The quiet, somber voice meant it wasn’t something good. It hit him. She was leaving town. She’d had enough of Everly and it wasn’t working for her. Or, she’d had enough of tutoring with Lexie. He tensed. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

  She nodded.

  He saw the glimmer of tears. If he knew anything about Belle, it was that she didn’t cry in front of other people. “Do you need a moment?”

  She looked at him, her beautiful green eyes that seemed even brighter, more electric at the moment. “How do you know me so well?”

  He shrugged. “Talent.” He smiled, trying to ease her tension, but then she probably needed to be reassured. “I’ve been with you before when you’re upset. I know there are situations when you need a moment alone.” That was the nicest way he could put it without mentioning tears.

  She laughed. It was sweet, almost soft. “You’re being too nice.” She took in a steadying breath. “You put Lexie in my care today, at the open house, when you had to work and I know it’s a huge responsibility. I promise I take it very seriously whenever I’m with her…”

  Okay, this was not what he expected.

  “She almost died,” she blurted.

  What?

  “You should never leave me alone with her again. Make sure Bixby is there when I tutor. Better yet, maybe your mom should tutor her. It was the most irresponsible thing I could do and I know that and I’ll never forgive myself—”

  “Belle,” he said, almost in his cop voice. She stopped talking abruptly. Wouldn’t look at him. “Why don’t you tell me what happened. Let’s start there.”

  She took in a shaky breath. “We were exploring the house. I was trying to make it fun, encouraging her to find the perfect reading nook. We stopped at the top landing and I got lost staring down, imagining a party with dancing and music.” She fell silent.

  “And…?”

  “That’s when she almost died. Not only that but I snapped at her.”

  “Yes, but what exactly happened? How did she almost die? We know she’s alive, unharmed, the moment’s over. So tell me.”

  “She leaned too far over the railing and I yanked her back. We fell, then I snapped at her. It was terrible. I did apologize to her.”

  “Let me get this straight. You weren’t constantly staring at Lexie, which I would never expect you to do. While you weren’t constantly staring at her, she did a very kid-like thing and leaned too far over the railing.” Belle nodded. “Was she literally seconds from falling? If you hadn’t yanked her back that second, she would have plummeted to her death?”

  She stared at him, mouth open, shocked.

  “Sorry. Just trying to get a feel for how life and death this really was. Was she mid-fall?”

  Belle paused, then said, “Well, no. But she could have at any second.”

  “Then, when the moment of danger was over, and your terror subsided, you said some stern words at her. Let me guess, she snapped right back at you and stomped away.”

  “How’d you know?”

  “I deal with it all the time.”

  It happened naturally. He didn’t even think about it, when his arm moved, and the next thing he knew, he was holding her hand. For a moment, his mouth went dry, he couldn’t find the words. It was a wonderful feeling, holding her hand, his heart doing a little dance.

  “Listen, we all make mistakes. I do all the time. I don’t expect you to be perfect. But I understand the fear you felt. I’ve felt it before, too. I’ll make sure I talk to her about leaning too far over railings.” He knew what she was thinking. They’d been here before. “This doesn’t change anything. Our friendship. The tutoring. None of it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He pulled his hand away before it could grow awkward, immediately missing her touch. “How about we go ghost hunting?”

  She rewarded him with a smile.

  Before they even reached the front door, he heard it. “Hold on.” They stopped, and there it was. The moaning, building to a shriek, dropping to a ghastly, tortured sound. The creaking. He held up a finger, telling her to wait. It only took a few minutes before they noticed a pattern, the same building, the crescendo, before it started all over again. Clearly, a recording. “I think we’re about to catch a ghost. You ready?”

  She nodded.

  Lucas unlocked the door, nudging it open with his knee. He entered first, Belle followed. She gasped first, before Lucas saw it.

  The body.

  Jeremiah Fisher face-down on the floor, legs splayed in an unnatural position.

  Definitely dead.

  Lucas instantly moved into cop mode. His first instinct, to protect Belle. He whispered, “Stay here.”

  He needed to check. Stepping carefully, he went to the body and placed two fingers at his neck. No pulse.

  Belle hissed. “Maybe I should come with you.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “But what if the killer tries to leave and you’re upstairs.”

  “Then go sit in the car.”

  “No.”

  He huffed. “Fine. Follow me. Stay close. Right behind.”

  He pulled out his gun. They moved from room to room in the downstairs, then up the stairs. He stood outside every room before pointing the gun inside, seeing the all-clear. He didn’t fully register the continued moaning, the shrieking still sounding until he was back at the top landing in the foyer, the body of Jeremiah Fisher below.

  He called in the team, glad for a few moments to study the scene alone.

  “How long do you think he’s been dead?” Then she let out another gasp. “It looks like he fell from the railing.”

  “Or was pushed.” Lucas hated to point out the grim fact.

  “He could have lost his balance and fallen,” Belle said, playing devil’s advocate. “But considering all the angry conversations this guy had today, given the tense relationships he had with so many people, the way he talked to them, treated them, I highly doubt this was an accident.”

  Lucas added. “He landed face-first.” He had to consider the angle. If he lost his balance, it would have been because his back was to the railing. Even then, the railing wasn’t so low that it would be easy to his lose balance and fall. If pushed, it could have been from behind, so he fell forward, landing on his front.

  “Which means he was pushed from behind.”

  “Very good, Detective Baron,” he said, impressed. “What else do you notice?” Honestly, he could barely think with the moaning. “What are the immediate clues?”

  “He stopped by The Beanery between the ending of the open house and his return to the house.” She pointed to one of their to-go cups, sitting along the far wall, the splatter drops of coffee along the floor.

  “Good eye.”

  “Which means we’ll definitely need to talk to Bixby. See what kind of state Jeremiah was in when he stopped in the shop.”

  He wouldn’t even try to stop Belle from talking to Bixby about it. There was a lot that had happened throughout the day. Most likely, the killer had been at the open house. One of the agents, one of the clients, one of the viewers, someone else who slipped in and they didn’t know it.

  Jeremiah Fisher wasn’t a nice man. Being a real estate agent, he was active in the community. Lucas always thought it was for the sake of appearances, not that the man truly cared. He supported all the right causes and made sure everyone knew it. Jeremiah had been working for Graystone Estates for a long time. He didn’t always treat people well—and that was just the little Lucas knew about him. The man had been around long enough to gain some enemies, enough time to create quite a list of people who wouldn’t mind if he disappeared permanently.

  “Given the amount of coffee that was spilled,” Belle continued, “he hadn’t been here too long. Or, he was involved in an argument, with no time to drink it. I wonder if he was drinking the new pumpkin spice flavor.”

  “That’s important how?”

  “It’s not.” Belle shrugged. “I’ll ask Bixby later.” She pointed to the floor. “What’s that?”

  Lucas looked. There was something small on the floor near him. If he looked at it in the right way, let the light catch the edges, it glimmered. “Let’s go check it out. But not touch.”

  It turned out to be a ring. A sapphire ring. Small and glittery. It was big enough to be worth a chunk of change.

  “Do you think it’s expensive?” Belle asked.

  “We’ll find out.”

  “So, either he had the ring on him, or it was the killer’s. Maybe they fought over it.”

  “Maybe it was a gift for his wife,” he said.

  A ring seemed so out of place. Lucas would think the murder had to do with real estate, with the sale of this house, rather than a piece of jewelry. He envisioned uncomfortable conversations in his future with his dad and the real estate agents: Mia Harmen and Jamie Finch.

  “Or girlfriend. Maybe a girlfriend confronted him here, angry, and threw the gift of a ring back at him, breaking up with him.” She sighed. “It probably doesn’t have anything to do with the murder. Just a red herring.”

  “Ooh, someone’s been studying up on their crime terminology,” he teased.

  “I didn’t read much with my aunt and uncle. I didn’t have time. Aunt Eliza brought me to the library every week during the year I lived with her. She had a passion for mysteries. My parents, too…”

  “But I agree with you. This was clearly about the real estate. The fact that Jeremiah made enemies like most people made friends.”

  They heard the sirens, the arrival of the team outside.

  “Belle, I can bring you home right now, but I’d like to stay. I know Bixby is working…”

  “I can wait outside in the car, if you’d like, as long as I can run the heat.”

  “This is all about collecting evidence. Fingerprints. Other small clues. Finding that recording before it drives me bonkers.” He handed Belle the keys. “I’ll be out soon.”

  The small team moved fast. One found the recording. To have that moaning gone was the single most blessed event of his day. He could actually think. As his team worked, he thought about his dad. Out of concern, Belle had pointed out the heated confrontations his dad had with both Jamie Finch and Jeremiah. There was this bet he had with Mia.

  He tried to envision what happened. Jeremiah, ruffled or angry about the open house with the fake ghost noises, went to The Beanery for coffee. He returned, alone, or possibly had another showing. The last thing he expected was to die. No one ever knew when their time was going to arrive.

  Maybe he was showing the house. How else would an argument lead to the landing? Unless, he thought he was alone and was trying to find the recording. That was when the killer came up behind him and pushed. Jeremiah Fisher might never have seen the face of his murderer.

  Maybe Jeremiah came to gloat about this house that would bring sales. Maybe Mia showed up to confront him about the bet. Maybe Jamie returned to finish their tense argument, or to bribe or threaten him.

  Then it hit him. His stomach sank. It dropped through the floor. He felt sick.

  Jeremiah wasn’t the only one involved in the intense conversations. In fact, it was his dad in both cases. There was the fact he showed up late to the lunch because he had something to do. Where had he gone? Did it provide him with an alibi? That’s all Lucas wanted. To clear his parent’s name. Lucas didn’t honestly think he would harm his top agent, even if Jeremiah was a thorn in his side.

  It would be an uncomfortable conversation.

  After he dropped Belle off at The Beanery, as much as he wanted to stay and talk to Bixby, he would have to do that later. He drove straight to his parents’ home. It would be a surprise. They might even be smack in the middle of a game or an activity with Lexie.

  He entered the family room to smiles from everyone except Lexie. “Hey,” she said. “This is my time with Grams and Gramps.”

  Lucas loved knowing Lexie cherished her time with her grandparents, with her mother’s parents. It was a strong connection. Lexie needed as many of those in her life as possible, which was why Belle’s doubt that he would want their connection broken continued to flabbergast him. Everyone makes mistakes. He’d made plenty of them. So many he wouldn’t be surprised if someone knocked on the door to place Lexie in a different home.

  He threw up his hands as if in defeat. “No problem. Just need to talk to Gramps for a minute, then you can have him all to yourself.”

  “Lucas, is everything all right?” his mom asked, a tiny frown marring her face.

  She immediately thought trouble. She’d seen everything at the open house, too. The tension, the anger, was obvious to anyone who wanted to see it, even if they didn’t want to see it. She was also highly aware of his job.

  “Everything’s fine with me. I just need to talk to Dad.”

  They left the room. “Might as well go outside.” Lucas led the way out the front door to the porch. They sat on the steps.

  “What is it, Lucas?”

  There was really no easy way to say it. “We went back to the house to check out the source of the wailing.”

  “And?”

  Lucas took a breath. “Jeremiah Fisher has been murdered.”

  His dad didn’t say anything at first, processing. Then his face darkened with an unreadable

  expression. Normally, he could read his dad pretty easily.

  “Are you sure it was murder?”

  “Unless he threw himself from the second-floor landing in the house. Jumping from that height, there’s no guarantee of death. He hit his head hard on the floor when he landed. I assume he was pushed. Did he have any showings this afternoon?”

  “I don’t normally know the schedules of my agents, but he’d mentioned another showing of the house. I believe it was Todd McGovern.”

  “Have you heard that name before? Has Jeremiah worked with him for a long time?”

  His dad shrugged. “I’d have to check. The name is not familiar.”

  “I’ll also need the schedules of your other agents, too. A way to contact them for questioning.”

  “Really, son?”

  It was like a knee-jerk reaction to the subtle bite in his dad’s question, the underlying doubt and accusation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Meaning, I think you are too close to this to be the one investigating,” he stated, his voice flat.

  “I am until they take me off it. I’ll send an officer for all of it on Monday.” Lucas thought back to the restaurant when Belle asked about managing the relationships. His dad had laughed, then answered without hesitation. Maybe he should have sent Belle. “What about this big bet between Jeremiah and Mia?”

  His dad refused to respond, face masked, revealing nothing. It reminded him of Lexie when she closed down, closed off because she was disgruntled or angry at him.

  “All I knew I mentioned at lunch. To be honest, Lucas, I’m not sure I want to continue this conversation.”

  “Where were you this afternoon? You dropped Mom off. She said you had something to do.”

  His dad jolted in his seat, letting the mask go to reveal the shock and surprise; then it was back to neutral. “That’s none of your business, Lucas.”

  “Dad, if you tell me where you were, then I can solidify your alibi. It will save you more questioning in the next few days.”

  His dad stood. “I’ll deal with that when it comes. If and when I answer questions, it won’t be with you.”

  This was not going how Lucas had imagined. This was not Dad’s normal behavior. He was hiding something. Why else the secrecy? He knew something about Jeremiah Fisher or Mia, or other agents, that he wasn’t sharing. Lucas didn’t want to end the conversation on such a tense note, so desperate for another topic, he said, “Are you really going to make Mom do the cooking on your anniversary?”

  His dad’s eyes flashed.

  Too late, Lucas realized that also came out as an accusation, like his dad didn’t care enough to take her out to dinner.

  “For your information, I’ve learned not to fight her on certain issues. She doesn’t want the fuss. She loves cooking for people.” He straightened. “Now, I’m going back inside to spend time with my granddaughter.”

  Then he left.

  Lucas sat on the steps, still somewhat dumbfounded.

  Chapter Five

  Belle arrived back at The Beanery. Honestly, she was exhausted after the open house, her dealings with Lexie, everything with Jeremiah Fisher. The crabby old man with more enemies than friends, now gone. Murdered.

  The door was locked.

  She thought through the whole day. Seemed like two weeks ago she was here this morning, the open house, the family lunch with Lucas, then walking through the crime scene. No wonder The Beanery was closed.

  The door to Bixby’s apartment was in the back. She heard his voice calling from far away. “Belle! Is that you?”

  She made her way to the rear. “Yes. I desperately need a pumpkin spice, like injected into my veins.

  “Well, you’re at the right place. Come on up.”

  Soon, they were settled at Bixby’s small table, mugs in-hand. She breathed in the scent of coffee, the cinnamon and spice. Slowly, with every deep breath, she relaxed.

  “That must have been some day,” Bixby commented. “Tell me everything.”

  She sipped the coffee. “This is my favorite flavor. Your best so far.”

  He laughed. “You’ve said that with every flavor so far.”

  “Well, it’s true. I love all of them.” She didn’t want to talk murder yet. She wanted to talk pumpkins. “I want to have a pumpkin-carving party.”

  “Eliza would absolutely love that.”

  “I don’t mean on the community level. That’s a little much. I mean for friends here in Everly.”