There, in a patch of dirt, the imprint, the tread of a running sneaker or hiking boot. She should point that out to Lucas.

  She stared up at the window. There was one open; the answer was obvious. An ivy trellis, carefully manicured and cared for, crawled along the side of the house. Was it possible to climb it?

  She could hear Lucas in her mind, saying no, walk away, let the police handle it, don’t try it, but his voice was small and far away. All the confusion and conflicting thoughts needed an outlet; she needed a distraction. Belle wanted to help. She wanted to do something tangible for Xavier.

  One hand, one foothold, at a time, she slowly inched her way up.

  It was possible.

  This was real.

  The killer could have climbed the trellis, snuck in through the window, killed Xavier, then escaped.

  A sweat broke out on her forehead and tickled her armpits, from the effort, but also the intense fear of falling. She was so close. About halfway there. So close to seeing if it was possible.

  It was a sudden jerking, a pulling away, then it stopped. She let out a small cry, panicked. Her fingers curled into the ivy, gripping tight to the trellis.

  She searched the leaves in the space above her and found the spot where it had already started to break away, to tear. Was that because someone else had climbed it recently?

  Okay, she said to herself, time to climb down just like she climbed up, one foothold at a time. Slowly. Carefully.

  Then Belle heard and felt the final snap. She was falling and screaming, then landing. The jolt of the ground hitting her body, hard. A pain in her head. A sudden fading, and the darkness. It didn’t last long, but her whole body hurt. The ache and pounding in her head were intense. She closed her eyes, breathing, taking stock in other parts. She wiggled her toes, her fingers.

  “Belle!” It was Lucas.

  There he was, his face right above her; he showed concern in the frown and fear in his eyes.

  “I’m okay. I’m fine.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Helping. I was helping.”

  “Okay, let’s get you to the hospital.”

  “No. Just home. Please. Just need ice. I’m okay.”

  He huffed and spoke quietly, in his cop voice. “Finish taking Forsythia’s statement. Don’t leave without a guest list. I want a full report on the crime scene tomorrow morning.”

  “Yes, Detective.” Sounded like Officer Rob.

  Then she felt Lucas pick her up, cradling her. He was strong and warm. She looked up at him, at the bottom of his chin and the stubble, the scar above his eyebrow, his crooked nose. “Who punched you?” Belle whispered.

  “What?” He sounded flabbergasted.

  “Your nose. It’s crooked.”

  “Now I know you should go to the hospital.”

  “No, please. Anyway, it’s cute. Adds character. I’m fine.”

  “I’m taking you back to my house anyway. Then we’ll see.”

  “Okay.” She loved the warmth of his arms; she felt safe, protected, and that wasn’t something she often felt. “Bixby! Get Bixby.”

  “Okay, okay,” he whispered. “I’ll get Bixby. Officer Rob, find Bixby.” He added, “We have a lot to talk about. About what you saw and what you heard.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She had questions for him, too.

  Chapter Seven

  They were in the car, driving back. Everyone was safe.

  He wasn’t sure how it happened so fast when Minnie approached and asked him and Lexie to dinner that night. For some reason he didn’t want Belle to know. Never mind it was the last thing he wanted to do. Maybe that’s why Minnie had made a point of asking him earlier in the week if he’d be at the welcome breakfast for Xavier. He shook it off. He had more important concerns right now.

  There was so much he should be thinking about. The murder, for instance. The clues left in the bedroom Xavier used. Then there were the suspects, his assistants. Everything Shana and Samantha told him. Or the fact that Belle could have been seriously hurt. But no, he was thinking about her words.

  She said it was cute.

  His crooked nose, something he always felt self-conscious about. He couldn’t stop himself from peeking at her to make sure she was awake.

  “Do you feel any confusion?” he asked.

  “A little.”

  “What?”

  “Confused at who killed Xavier.”

  He growled. “Seriously. Confusion?”

  “No.”

  “What’s your name?”

  She laughed. “Bella, um…Belle Baring.” Then quickly added, “Just kidding. Belle Baron, and I can count to ten. One, two, three, four, five, six...” The last numbers tumbled from her mouth faster. “Seven-eight-nine-ten. I can touch my nose and touch my eyes. My body is sore from hitting the ground, but no sharp pains or distorted limbs. No broken bones. My head aches, a bit of whiplash, maybe a tiny concussion but I doubt it.”

  “Fine. I’m still making chicken noodle soup or something.”

  “Oh, I’m sure Bixby will come loaded with leftovers from the breakfast. Forsythia made sure we all knew we could take them. Honestly, have you made chicken noodle soup? Would it be edible?”

  “You’ve been hanging around Lexie too much.” His meals weren’t that bad. He’d been trying hard in his spare time.

  He pulled into his driveway. There was no way she was walking into the house on her own. “Let me carry you. I insist.”

  “Absolutely not. This will be a good test. I need to walk.”

  As they walked with slow, measured steps to the door, Lucas felt a rush of different emotions now that the danger seemed to be over. Frustration, relief, and back to frustration. Frustration Belle recklessly climbed a trellis meant as decoration. Relief she didn’t seem to be seriously hurt. Then back to frustration at the death of Xavier. How would he break it to Lexie on the other side of the door?

  “I can feel it, Lucas,” Belle said, at the front door.

  “What?” He opened and led her inside, straight to the couch.

  “Whatever it is you’re feeling. Just tell her. She’s a big girl. She knows what you do for a job.”

  “But she adores this guy!”

  “Rightly so, he’s a great performer. He comes across loving and charismatic.”

  “You don’t think he is?” Lucas made sure she had pillows to support her back. What did she mean by that last comment? “Stay put.”

  “He’s a complicated man and we have a lot to talk about,” she said, as footsteps thundered on the stairs. Even though it sounded like about five elephants, it was a fifth-grade girl, excited to see them.

  “Belle!” She rushed to the couch.

  “Whoa, be careful. She’s been injured.” Lucas loved that Lexie was always so excited to see Belle.

  Lexie crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “Doing what?”

  Lucas recognized himself mirrored in her actions. It was hard not to laugh. He tried. Lexie hadn’t lived with him that long to already be mirroring his mannerisms. Obviously, long enough.

  Belle couldn’t hide it. She laughed, then said, “Ooh, that hurts. You look just like someone I know.”

  “I’ll get the ice,” he said, making a quick exit. Seeing Lexie act like him undid something inside him. It made him realize he was truly her father now, in all senses of the word. He grabbed the ice packs then stood at the doorway to the kitchen, watching them.

  “Two packs, please. My back and my head,” Belle called out.

  Lexie eased onto the couch, sat quietly for a few minutes. Finally, she asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be okay. A bit sore. A headache. But yes, I’m okay. I’m sure you, Uncle Lucas, and Bixby will make sure I am.”

  “What happened?” she asked.

  She sighed. “I foolishly climbed a trellis. It was an unwise decision. I should have not made it based on an urge or reckless emotion.”

  Lucas watched, still frustrated at her impulsive decision to climb up the side of someone’s house, but seeing Belle choose her words wisely when talking to Lexie, softened the tension.

  He entered the room, chuckling. “You might as well tell her the truth.” He eased the pack under her head. Belle placed the other one behind her lower back.

  “Why did you do it?” Lexie asked.

  Belle flashed him a look as to how much she should explain. He nodded with the go-ahead, so she said, “I was curious. I wanted to see if it could be done. I wanted to help. The trellis tore away from the house, but I figured out it could be done and that it had been recently done. Because I saw where it was starting to tear.”

  A knowing look passed across Lexie’s face. “Something happened.”

  Lucas sat on the ottoman in front of the couch. “Yes, Lexie.” He hesitated, hating to bring that part of the world, a part where people killed for hate and jealousy, into her world. He wanted to shield her from the evil. She was only ten years old, after all. “Someone that everyone admired has died.” He couldn’t quite get himself to say the name, Xavier.

  “It’s Xavier, isn’t it?”

  Lucas was astonished, then gathered it in. “How did you know?”

  “Girls are smart,” Belle chirped. “Even fifth-grade girls.”

  “They most definitely are,” he said, “but…”

  Lexie grew serious. “You know how Xavier has an Instagram following?”

  “You don’t have Instagram,” he said, and she never would if he had anything to say about it. Which he did.

  “A girl at school does and since he was coming to town, she’s been telling us about it.” She bit her lip, then said, “I guess the other day, he said that if he mysteriously died that it was most definitely murder.”

  There was a knock on the door.

  Bixby burst into the house, loads of leftovers from the welcome breakfast in his arms. “I know it’s rude to just walk in. Sorry, not sorry. I brought food because I knew we needed it, but Eliza would have my head if she knew I didn’t check on Belle.” He dropped the bags on the table and kneeled by the couch. “What do you need? An ambulance? A drive to the emergency room? X-rays?”

  “Just food and friends,” she said, smiling.

  “And a careful watch to make sure she doesn’t have a concussion, which somehow she miraculously knows she doesn’t have,” Lucas stated.

  They sat in the living room. Even as leftovers, the eggs, sausages, pancakes, and bacon were delicious. It was after the food and conversation that Lucas looked at Lexie.

  She sighed. “I know, I know. Don’t I have homework to do up in my room, so I can miss all the fun while you all talk about the murder?”

  “Hey,” Lucas said, softly. “You were amazingly helpful. You gave an important clue, because I’ll be checking out his social media later.”

  With a proud smile, she went upstairs. Then it was just the three of them.

  It was quiet at first as they thought back on the morning. He thought about his interviews with Shana and Samantha, in which he strongly felt they didn’t share everything they knew. Never mind he had to find a translator. It was up to him how this conversation went, the direction it took. He knew if he sent them away that Bixby and Belle would talk murder and analyze everything they knew. He wanted to be there for it. Glean any insight he missed from not being there.

  “Okay, Belle. Go for it. Break it down. Piece by piece. Conversation by conversation. I want to hear it all,” Lucas said.

  “Really?” Belle asked.

  “Really. Consider this as me taking your statement.”

  “Where to start?” Belle asked. “First, Shana might understand more English than she lets on.”

  Lucas nodded. “Yes, agreed. She could answer some questions but didn’t answer the ones concerning herself.”

  “Well,” Belle said, “Samantha told me that Shana had worked for Xavier a few years longer than her, and that, at times, she saw strong emotion, maybe hate, reflected in her eyes toward Xavier. But she was vague when it came to her own past with him.”

  “Hmm.” Lucas thought back on his talk with Shana. “Shana told me Samantha came to work for him after he somehow tricked her father out of money.”

  “He used to be a con artist,” Belle said, “before his magic act took off.”

  “They both sound suspicious to me,” Bixby stated, and grabbed another muffin. “But give me the basics. Catch me up.”

  Lucas deferred to Belle. “Only if you’re up for it.”

  She nodded and told Bixby that Xavier never showed for breakfast. Forsythia sent Samantha to get him, but time passed, so Belle followed. They found Xavier in bed with sleeping pills spilled, the window open, and the possible murder weapons of the sash and the pillow on the floor. “Samantha made it clear that many loved Xavier the man, but he was flawed and could be cruel. Many hated him.”

  “Hate is a strong word,” Lucas said.

  “Her words not mine.” Then, she said, “I don’t know who it was, but yesterday, I saw Xavier having an intense conversation with a man in the bakery. Before that, I overheard a phone conversation where he told someone to stop following him.”

  Lucas wasn’t sure whether to share all that Shana told him about what she saw that night. If he didn’t, Belle would hunt down this mysterious man, who would be a definite suspect. “That would be Brett Banks, better known as Octavian X, a fellow magician. Shana said she saw him in the middle of the night, standing over the bed, angry and hissing. He stole a book and climbed back out the window.”

  “What kind of book?” Bixby asked.

  “From what Shana said, his book of tricks with all the magic solutions. It was a competitive business.”

  “Yes, Samantha said Xavier was obsessed with always revealing a big new illusion and fell into a depression if someone beat him to it.”

  Lucas thought about this book and this Octavian X. It would be a revealing conversation when he tracked him down. “Would someone kill for this book?”

  “I think so.” Belle grimaced, blinking furiously, the sheen of tears disappearing. That was the first time Lucas saw how much Xavier meant to her. He wondered why and how that happened so fast. He wanted to ask, but right now, with Bixby present, it wasn’t the right time. “I think there are a lot of reasons someone would want to kill Xavier the Astonishing, not just as a performer, but as a person.”

  They talked all the loose ends they could, they followed the rabbit trails, the theories, of who and how and why.

  “Well,” Lucas said, “we’ll know definitively the how of the murder with the coroner’s report. We have a lot of possibilities to the why, but we’ll know more as the investigation continues.” He put enough emphasis on investigation to mean the police investigation. “And you,” he said to Belle, “you need to rest.”

  Bixby stood and saluted. “I will ensure she does nothing but lie on the couch.”

  “Good.”

  Lucas hated to see them go. He wanted to persuade Belle to stay on his couch to take a nap, so he could keep an eye on her. Make sure she didn’t have a concussion.

  Later that evening, they were in the car, driving to Minnie’s house. She had outright asked them both to dinner. At the time, he didn’t feel like he could say no. He had the underlying fight with himself that he wasn’t enough. Lexie needed a strong female influence. At some point, she would need a mother figure, so he needed to at least go on dates, even when he didn’t want to. Minnie Kratz was nice, but as they left the car and approached the door, he knew this was wrong.

  Her house was nice, her food was nice, the conversation was nice. It was nice.

  She welcomed them inside to appetizers and wine, apple juice for Lexie. He couldn’t complain about the company or conversation. Of course, the talk eventually led to Xavier and everything that happened at the welcome breakfast.

  “When are the police going to share it with the public?” Minnie asked, clutching the stem of her wineglass. “It was just terrible. What a shame. Will you make an arrest soon?”

  “Hopefully. We have suspects, the usual. We’ll know more soon.” He could tell by the questioning look in her eyes, the way she skittered around the topic, what she really wanted to know. “I see no reason the murder mystery event can’t go on in a couple days.”

  She placed the glass down. “Thank you,” she breathed in relief. “Forsythia will be relieved. Except, the script will need rewriting, a lot of it. Most of the invitations were sent out. We’ll have to hold an emergency meeting.”

  Lucas thought about the other magician, Octavian X, the one Shana had mentioned. The one Belle had most likely seen arguing with Xavier. It might have been this other magician on the phone with Xavier when Belle overheard him. If Octavian X was the murderer, it would be better to give him a reason to stay in town while Lucas investigated. “There is another magician in town. If I track him down for questioning, I’ll refer him to Forsythia.”

  “Who is it?” The way Minnie asked, the hesitation and the questioning in the tone, meant they didn’t want any rinky-dink local magician.

  “I think you’ll be happy with him. Octavian X.”

  “Octavian X was in town? Here, in Everly?” Minnie seemed shocked, the sudden widening of her eyes, the sharpness in her tone.

  “Yes, why?”

  He heard Lexie sigh before she spoke. The kind of sigh that hinted he was out of the loop. “Uncle Lucas, you need to watch some of his live videos. Both of them.”

  “Yes, I realize that.” He leaned forward, curious as to what Minnie could tell him, because the last thing he wanted was to watch thousands of videos. “Minnie, why did you ask it like that?”

  “If you watch both of their social media, it’s clear there was something going on between them. Definitely a rivalry, but almost more than that. I can’t explain what exactly. Let me show you.”

  She fetched her phone. First, she showed Xavier’s video. Before she hit play, Lexie tugged on his arm. “This is the one. Where he says if he’s found dead it’s not suicide.”

  Minnie pushed play. There was Xavier, alive and charismatic, in full makeup and costume. He used low lighting, creating a creepy atmosphere, like it was a stage. He talked in breathless tones, with no music. “You’re all hearing it from me first. I am alive and I am well. If anyone is to find my body, you’re hearing it first, fans. I am of sound mind. It will mean someone poisoned or stabbed or strangled me. It will mean someone killed me.”