“Well…” She started, but he gave her a look and handed me his credit card.

  “We don’t eat sugar.” He took one of the teas and handed it to the woman.

  “Clive, we are on vacation.” She took the glass, but her attention was on the chocolate chip cookie display on the top of the case. “One cookie isn’t going to hurt.”

  “It’s a slippery slope, Nan.” He nodded at me. “We’re done.”

  I ran the card and handed the slip and a pen to him. I felt like giving her a cookie, but figured he’d just throw it away. I didn’t want to be controlled like that. Not in a marriage or in any type of relationship. I thought again about Frank and his wives. Why had his marriages dissolved? Lynda had said they’d just fallen out of love. Or, no, she said they’d never been in love. Would he make the same mistake over and over? Or did he make mistakes with people while he was looking for love?

  Deek came into the shop a few hours later, and I was still thinking about the no-sugar couple. He lifted his hands and held them out. “Whoa, your aura is dark, like you’re in pain. Anything I can help with? Do you need to leave early?”

  I shook my head. We had several customers hanging out in different spots of the shop, but no one needed my attention right now. I leaned over the counter. “I just had an encounter with a husband and wife that were stuck in the fifties. Why would people try to control another person like that?”

  Deek came around and tucked his bag under the counter, getting ready for his shift. “People do all sorts of things to one another. And a lot of the time, they don’t realize what it does to themselves. Angry words, controlling actions; it’s all because people are insecure. At least that’s what my psych professor claimed in our class last week.”

  “It could be worse, I guess. They just got me in a funk.” I pulled out a cookie and ate it for the woman whose husband wouldn’t let her have one.

  “Emotional abuse is still abuse.” Deek shook his head. “Some of the clients’ who visit my mom’s salon come in to try to talk to their dead husbands. They don’t know what to do with themselves without someone telling them what to do. It’s sad really.”

  “If you were an artist and you took off from your apartment, where would you go?” I decided to change the subject. This one was getting way too dark.

  “For a day or longer?” His face looked thoughtful. “And where is their apartment?”

  “Does it make a difference?”

  He nodded. “It does if you want me to give you a good answer.”

  Was he using his sight for this? “She lived in the city. Near the art gallery neighborhood.”

  He opened his computer. “Let’s check out that area. If she lived there, she probably doesn’t have a car. That’s mostly a walking neighborhood.”

  “And parking cars is expensive in the city.” Now I was curious. I watched as he opened up the Maps section of his browser and nailed down the neighborhood. I pointed to a building near one of my aunt’s favorite. “According to Greg, she lived in that building.”

  He put a virtual pin on the building, then zoomed into the area. “Nice place. Probably has a doorman. Did Greg talk to them? Maybe she had a car come for her or asked for a taxi?”

  “Good questions.” I took out my notebook and started writing down questions. “What else do you know about the area?”

  He zoomed out and pointed to a train station. “The commuter train doesn’t even have a stop in that area. She’d have to walk ten more blocks to get to the closest station. Did she take bags with her? If so, that’s a long way to walk with a suitcase. Someone might notice her. I’m betting on the cab/car thing. Unless she didn’t go willingly.”

  My mind flashed to the idea of someone putting a cloth over my mouth. The vision had been so real that day. Could it really have been a sign from Cali? Greg had thought the source had been a missing girl who had been reported out of Bakerstown a few days ago, but we hadn’t known that the fifth wife was in the wind then.

  I put down the pen and took a cup, filling it with coffee. I really didn’t want this. I liked being normal and not “seeing” other things. Esmeralda had warned me that I was a natural sensitive. But knowing the right door to open was a lot different from feeling someone else’s fear. I sipped the coffee and watched Deek study his laptop.

  “It’s not all bad, you know.” He didn’t look at me. He stayed focused on the screen. “Sometimes you get ideas that help others. That’s the best. I’m not like my mom, but I guess her gift filtered down to me in my ability to read others. You have something there, I’m just not sure what.”

  “According to Esmeralda, I’m good at reading others too.” I sipped my coffee. “But this isn’t about me. This is about a missing woman. Any other clues you get from the area? That was a good call to look at the neighborhood. Maybe you should think of a career in law enforcement.”

  He laughed. “Me? A police dude? I’m not in to all those rules and stuff. Besides, I know my calling now. It took a while, but I think this author path is the one I’m meant to be on. I’m really digging telling this story. My mom’s worried that I’m going to be a poor artist for the rest of my life, but I’ve got plans. It’s going to be all right.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was talking about his future or if the last sentence had been aimed at me and my fear of what was going on with me. But I didn’t want to get into that kind of a discussion now. “You’ll be a great storyteller.”

  The doorbell went off and a couple walked into the shop. He called out a greeting, then closed the laptop. “Let me think about this some more. I know some people who are in the art world. Maybe they know this chick. Can you give me a name?”

  I gave him Cali’s full name and he shook his head. “Parents can do a number on their kids.”

  The couple moved toward the bookshelves, and I moved to greet them. Deek put a hand on my arm. “Why don’t you head home? I can handle this for the rest of the day. If I need help, I’ll call, but you look beat.”

  I felt beat. Usually, I’m up and excited for the day. Today, I had to drag myself out of bed. “Are you sure? I haven’t done the shift change list yet.”

  “Your aunt will never know. I didn’t finish one this week just to see if she’d notice, and she told me what a great job I’d been doing. Hanging out with the Harrold dude has been good for her.”

  “I can’t disagree there.” I glanced upward at the soon-to-be-empty apartment. “I might have an apartment to rent soon if you’re interested.”

  “Unless it comes free as part of the job, I’m not. I’m trying to save for a writer’s retreat this fall in Colorado. Mom’s fine with helping me with tuition, but she sees this as extracurricular.” He glanced over to the couple who were still focused on the books. “I might know someone, though.”

  “Hopefully, renting this won’t be as hard as I’d expected.” I took off my apron. “I’m going to take you up on your offer and head home.”

  After yesterday’s warning from Greg, I’d driven the Jeep into work and parked it in the back. The parking lot looked empty without my aunt’s car sitting in its usual spot. I guess I’d just have to get used to the fact that she was living her life. Usually, it’s the adults who get empty nest syndrome, not the kids. But then again, I guessed I was an adult now. Which made me even more depressed. Time to go home and veg on the couch until Greg got home.

  Or it would be after I sent him a list of Deek’s questions and ideas. I briefly thought about just driving into the city and doing my own research, but if Greg found out, especially after the warning he’d given me yesterday, I would be sharing the doghouse with Emma.

  Not that my spoiled dog even used the doghouse Greg had built her a few summers ago.

  I thought about Frank’s murder, the offers on the house, and the attacks on the store. Were they all related? If that was true, there was one person who could be tied to all of it. Alice Carroll. I wished Greg could just arrest her based on my intuition, but I guessed the Constitution gave even suspects as guilty looking as Alice some rights.

  When I got home, I realized I hadn’t asked Deek about Mike Master’s signing. Not that I’d nix it now. Or, I guess, ever, but I wondered how it came up. Had Deek suggested it, which was my hope? Or had Mike thought it another way to get in my good graces? If he knew how much work an author signing could be, he would have told Deek no and really been in my good graces. Just another sign I wasn’t a good bookstore manager. I loved the early shift. A few customers to keep it interesting, fresh coffee and treats, and plenty of time to fall into a book. Which reminded me, I’d told Deek that I’d have my book recommendation for the newsletter in by Friday. And I hadn’t even chosen the book I was going to recommend. There were so many good choices in this month’s new releases.

  I decided I’d work on that this afternoon. Right after I emailed Greg. At the house, I reached into my purse for the house keys. My phone was vibrating. Crap, I’d turned it on silent mode last night so I could get some sleep and hadn’t changed it back. Amy was calling. “Hey.”

  “Hey? That’s all you got? Where are you?”

  “I just got off work and pulled up at the house. Why? Where are you?” I put my tote over my shoulder and made my way to the front door. Emma had heard me pull up and was already barking.

  “Well, I’m not at Diamond Lille’s waiting for you anymore. I must have called ten times. Why didn’t you pick up? And why were you at work?”

  Uh oh, I’d forgotten about my weekly brunch with Amy. “I’m so sorry. I totally spaced out telling you I was working for Toby today. Since Greg has had him working full-time-plus due to the murder, he couldn’t work the Sunday shift. And we’re so shorthanded anyway. Deek’s been working overtime and Aunt Jackie—well, she’s moving in with Harrold. So it was just me.” I turned the key in the lock and stepped inside, closing the door before Emma could even look outside. My dog is smart, but when she wants something, she becomes brilliant. And we hadn’t run for a few days.

  “Oh. So why didn’t you pick up? Were you that busy?”

  I could tell from her tone she was calming down and not quite as angry, but I knew I’d have to buy brunch next week to get totally out of the doghouse. “No, I had my stupid phone on silent. I just noticed it when I was fumbling around for my keys.”

  I walked into the kitchen and set the phone on the table, putting it on Speaker. I let Emma out in the backyard and watched for a few minutes.

  “Oh, I guess I understand. I was just so excited to show you the linens we have it narrowed down to for the reception.”

  I must have heard her wrong. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. What did you pick?”

  “Nothing yet. I just have it narrowed down to three choices of linens for the tables. They’re all white, of course, but each one has a special design I wanted to show you.”

  I could hear the excitement building in her voice. “So, the venue is providing you choices?”

  “No, silly, you have to rent your linen. And your china and flatware. Of course, the venue has basic stuff, but if you want anything suitable, you have to rent.” She sighed. “I should have called Jackie. She understands the wedding process so well. She’s looking at a fall wedding at that restaurant overlooking the San Francisco Bay. Won’t that be lovely? I wish I had that kind of budget, but Justin keeps insisting on keeping it under forty thousand.”

  “Four thousand? That sounds about right. That doesn’t include your dress, right?” I grabbed a water bottle and sat at the table, opening my laptop.

  “Forty thousand. You can’t even rent a suitable venue for four.” She paused as I gulped. “What did you spend on your first wedding?”

  “Maybe a thousand, but that included the trip to Vegas. We didn’t have a big, expensive event.”

  “And see how that marriage went?” She paused. “Justin is calling, I need to take this so we can make the final linen decision. I’ll call you later.”

  She hung up before I could say goodbye. Forty thousand. That was ludicrous. And she thought Aunt Jackie was spending more? Unless Harrold was draining his retirement account, I didn’t know where they were going to get that kind of money. I put “call Aunt Jackie” on my Monday list.

  Putting aside the crazy wedding talk, I focused on the discussion I’d had with Deek about the missing Mrs. Gleason. Then I went into my office and sorted through the ARCs I’d read that month. I needed to take them back to the store, but Toby read only military history and high fantasy. And Deek was focusing on the autobiographies and nonfiction. That meant Aunt Jackie and I shared the rest of the fiction genres. And she hadn’t been reading as much as she had before she’d made up with Harrold. I pulled out my three top runners for my favorites and put all the others into large book totes. Then I put the totes into my Jeep. At least that would be done sometime tomorrow, when I ran my errands.

  I went back into the kitchen, let in Emma, and thumbed through the books. Settling on one, I sat down to write the recommendation. It had to have the feel of the book without just telling the story. More of a marketing blurb than a true summary. And I always liked to end it with the phrase, “if you liked this, you’ll love that.”

  Two cookies and an hour later, my review was done and I was thinking about another book. I’d brought it home at the beginning of the week and it called to me. I poured a glass of tea and went to the living room to curl up on the couch.

  The best thing about the murder mystery I had chosen? No one was getting married or talking about wives or husbands or missing people. I could lose myself in the fantasy without being drawn back into reality. Which was the sign of an excellent book.

  Maybe I should use this one for next month’s recommendation and end the piece with “Keeps you safe from crazy friends and relatives and out of murder investigations.” Because it certainly did that for me.

  Chapter 17

  I never set alarms for Mondays because I never worked that shift, but this morning, I didn’t need one. I glanced at the clock and then threw a pillow over my head. What good was having a day off if you woke up at the same time? I lay that way for a while, then gave up. Greg was cooking bacon downstairs in the kitchen, and I could smell the goodness through the pillow.

  By the time I got ready and downstairs, he was sitting at the table eating and talking to Emma. Since he’d moved in, this had been their routine. Breakfast together as long as he didn’t have to run off to work. She’d sit by the door and drool at whatever he’d been cooking, and he’d talk to her about his day. It was messed up and totally cute. And I loved both of them more for this interaction.

  “There she is. Finally woke up, huh?” He turned his head toward me, and I leaned in for a kiss. “I thought you were going to sleep the day away.”

  “I don’t have to work. I deserve one day to get up past, what is it? Six thirty?” I moved over to the coffeepot and poured myself a cup.

  “Almost seven.” He glanced at his watch. “I don’t have to be in until nine, so I wanted to talk a little before I went in. Your breakfast is in the microwave.”

  “Uh-oh. What did I do wrong? You never fix me breakfast.” I set down the coffee and grabbed the plate of eggs, bacon, and English muffin out of the microwave.

  “One, that’s not true. And two, you aren’t in trouble. I just wanted to talk about Deek’s questions. I thought they were well-thought-out and spot-on. Who knew he had it in him?”

  “You’re always picking on the kid. How come?” I dug into the eggs and ladled a piece onto the muffin before I took a bite.

  “He’s just so fun to mess with. I know I can’t really intimidate him as much as it seems, right?” Greg looked at Emma and pointed to the dog bowl. “Your breakfast is over there. I filled it up this morning.”

  Emma lay down by the door and gave me the sad eyes.

  “Anyway, I just wanted you to tell him he did a great job with his analysis. He should think about taking the police entrance exam.” He pointed to an article in the newspaper. “Darla’s done it again. I don’t know why I even investigate; she’s always got a perfect suspect rounded up for me.”

  “But she’s always wrong.” I took the paper from him. “‘Mike Masters’s coincidental arrival in South Cove is being investigated carefully by an unnamed source at South Cove’s police department. Will he be able to attend his author signing on Thursday, or will he be too busy with a different type of interview across the street at City Hall?’ I can’t believe she gets away with this kind of reporting. Can’t he sue her?”

  “She didn’t say he committed a crime. Only that we are looking at him, which we are. So it’s not even untrue.” Greg took his plate to the sink. He refilled his coffee. “You’ve been kind of focused on Alice. What do you think of Mike as a possible murder mastermind?”

  “He’s good at planning. As an author, he has to be.” I thrummed my fingers on the desk. He’s really focused on preserving California history, so it doesn’t make sense why he’d kill Frank. They were on the same side.”

  “Frank’s financials look a little suspicious. He got a large deposit every month for the last year of just under ten thousand dollars. Maybe it’s from an investment or another account, but it looks suspicious. I’ve got Toby working with the bank to track down the source.”

  “What are you saying, that Mike paid Frank money for some reason? And he killed him to be able to stop paying?” I shook my head. “I don’t think Mike’s books make him the kind of dough that he’d have the funding for that.”

  “If not Mike, who else would be paying off a certifier of historical sights?” Greg watched my face as awareness flowed into my brain.

  I blame the lack of enough coffee, but I finally got it. “You think the developer was paying him off.”