“Lady Katherine laughed and asked what Rhonda was going to do, tell Daddy? It sounded like a threat, as if she would retaliate.”

  Evie nodded curtly, possibly conveying KK’s agreement.

  “Then what happened?” Pris asked cautiously, sensing Jane was reaching a mental breaking point.

  Jane scrunched her shoulders. “Vincent Gladwell. He came in the back door, heard everything, and saw me. He shouted awful things. I ran out, but I could hear him hitting Katherine and both women screaming at him.”

  Thirty: Jax

  LaWanda, the mayor’s eighteen-year-old niece, glanced around Jax’s barren office and sniffed. Not quite as tall as Larraine, considerably skinnier, and bespectacled, she’d be called a nerd in any universe except the fashionista’s. Larraine had evidently dressed her for success in the red jumpsuit, power Afro, and purple glasses frames.

  “Do I get a computer?” was all she asked.

  Roark and Reuben were crawling all over his inner office attaching microphones and cameras in preparation for the potential client and murder suspect due to arrive shortly. Jax just needed a body at the desk. He hadn’t figured out what to do with her yet. “Eventually. We’re still setting up the office. I need you to learn the phone system and hold visitors out here until I allow them in. We’ll work out a routine later.”

  LaWanda sniffed again. “I handled the principal’s phone system. It’s not complicated.” She settled into the mesh office chair Evie had dug out of the attic and began looking for adjustments.

  Given the lack of client list, a receptionist who could handle a phone and a chair was all he required. Jax returned to his office to rein in the spooks eager to apply their trade.

  Reuben was fixing a microphone under Jax’s desk while Roark checked a totally unauthorized security camera over the door.

  “This is overkill, guys,” Jax protested. “I hate having cameras in my private office. Client information is confidential.”

  “Nick Gladwell is not yet your client, and he could be a killer for all we know.” Reuben plugged in his earbuds to check the sound.

  “La Bella Gente is a client,” Jax argued. “He could be representing them.”

  “We’ll remove the equipment and you can throw out the video if he’s here on business,” Reuben agreed, stepping back to test his earbuds.

  “Interrogate, bon ami,” Roark said. “It’s what you do good.”

  “Yeah, well, it would help if I knew what crime I’m interrogating about.” Jax opened the boutique’s file on his laptop. “I have no idea why he made this appointment.”

  “To find out who knows what would be my guess.” The lanky Cajun climbed down from the chair he was using and carried it toward the door.

  “Out,” Jax ordered, watching the camera in the corridor. “He’s here.”

  His friends picked up their equipment and vanished into the file room. Seconds later, Jax’s teenage receptionist greeted the client’s arrival and paged Jax on the intercom. So she really did know a bit about office equipment.

  He would have appreciated the smooth organization his office was finally achieving, except he knew R&R were in it for the money. Insurance had offered rewards for finding KK’s killer and the arson at the bistro. Evie’s hungry team was looking at major pay-outs.

  At his visitor’s entrance, Jax stood to shake Nicholas Gladwell’s hand. “Good to see you. How are you holding up?”

  The other man looked worse for wear. The Bella team had always been bright and shiny when he’d worked with them before the store opening. Nick was the classic stereotype of a slick salesman, Italian shoes and all. Today, a dark shadow of beard marred his square jaw and his eyes had developed bags from lack of sleep.

  “I’ve been better,” Nick admitted, settling into the chair in front of the desk. “The insurance company is giving me grief. I’m hoping you can help.”

  “I’ll be happy to try, although I’m not sure what I can do. They’ve sent inspectors?”

  Nick nodded. “The arson charge is holding things up. They want to blame our employees. They’re demanding a complete inventory of stock along with receipts. Rhonda is still in shock and refusing to return here. She’s gone over to KK’s store at Myrtle. Matt is hunkering down at Hilton Head, claiming he’s too busy. I’m marketing. I know nothing of the back office.”

  Jax frowned and tapped his pen. “Matt is back? Why isn’t he handling all this?”

  “He came back fuming. He wants the London store. He’d leave the boutiques to Rhonda, if he could. But Hilton Head at least has people he’ll talk to, so he won’t leave.”

  Neither Matt nor Rhonda wished to return to the scene of the crime? Interesting.

  “What about corporate?” Jax asked. “Shouldn’t they be in charge? Shouldn’t they send someone to handle the financial end? Send new employees?”

  Nick settled in the big Morris chair from Evie’s attic and crossed an ankle over his knee. “The boutiques were Katherine and Matt’s ideas. They each operated their own. Afterthought was Kit-Kat’s. No idea why she decided on this place. Corporate has no interest. Kat was supposed to handle it all. I’m only here now because of her.”

  Jax nodded as if he understood and reached into his grab bag of questions. “I’m really sorry for your loss. Katherine seemed like a dynamic businesswoman. I understand she and Lucia Ugazio developed the lotions using the Ugazio oils, so I suppose it’s natural that she wanted to control the sales.”

  Nick grimaced. “The amount of oil required for the lotions is ridiculously expensive. They gave up on using that a long time ago. We’ve only been selling Lucia’s bottled virgin olive oil in the bistros. KK was furious about that. That doesn’t mean losing the inventory still wasn’t expensive. The packaging costs nearly as much as the ingredients. If the insurance would come through, I could pay off the outstanding bills and close up the shop.”

  Jax donned his best lawyer straight face. “Could Miss Ugazio step in? Or was she angry at not using the olive oil in the lotions as well?”

  Nick waved a dismissive hand. “I haven’t seen Lucia since the year I was hired. I was told she went back to Italy. If I can’t get Matt or Rhonda to step up, it’s all on me. I hate leaving bills and wages unpaid. I know what it’s like to struggle for money. It’s obvious the store is a loss. Insurance needs to cough up some cash.”

  Huh, another one claiming not to have seen Lucia in years. Evie’s ghostly encounter seemed more and more likely. Jax held back a shudder at the thought of a long dead woman speaking through the woman he loved.

  Concluding Nick really was almost as financially inept as he claimed, Jax poked at his willingness to dump his grievances. “If you’ll forward what you have, along with the insurance adjustor’s information, I’ll see what I can do. Shouldn’t the store have had a bank account covering expected expenses?”

  Nick shrugged. “I cannot imagine how they were operating. Income didn’t match outgo as far as I’m aware. The account was almost empty. I tried asking Matt and Rhonda since they had access, but they shut me down. All I encounter are Matt’s bullies now when I ask questions.”

  “Bullies?” Jax settled back in his chair and waited expectantly.

  “His boyfriends. He hired them to keep Vincent and KK off his back. My family is not the world’s most functional. I’m thinking of leaving the business and becoming a lion tamer.” Nick’s sarcasm bled through.

  “Matt was threatened by his sister? About what?” Jax aimed for idle curiosity.

  “Jewelry, apparently. It was a running argument. KK liked old gold and gems. She’d have them shipped in with the oil. Matt liked cash. Vincent had to slam their heads together occasionally. I stayed out of it.” Nick pushed up from his chair. “I’ve bent your ear enough. I’ll send you my files, although if the insurance doesn’t come through, I don’t know how you’ll be paid.”

  “Off the top of any check,” Jax assured him with a laugh. He stood and shook hands. “Send me addresses and contact numbers for Matt and Rhonda, as well, would you? Maybe I can intervene and persuade more from them than a family member. Will Vincent be taking charge of his daughter’s remains? I understand the coroner is about to release them.”

  Nick looked unbearably sad. “No. He refuses to return here. As far as I’m aware, he’s not even preparing services.”

  “Grief-stricken, I suppose. I’m sorry the burden falls on you.” Jax walked him to the door.

  The moment Nick left the office, R&R returned, crowing.

  “Italy!” Roark shouted. “Old gold from Italy! Smuggled in oil!”

  Reuben was already poking at his phone. “Artifacts,” he said the instant someone answered on the other end. “Italian artifacts in the oil shipments.”

  Evie curled up on the cushioned, wicker loveseat swing Jax had installed on the back porch. She welcomed the arm he curled around her and lay her head on his shoulder to watch Dante’s children run around the yard with her mother’s golden retriever. “Tell me people are basically good.”

  “Most people are basically good,” he said agreeably. “What brought this on?”

  “The Gladwells, I think. And maybe Jane, although I think her tragic childhood warped her. She won’t confess, but we think she started the fire out of spite and a twisted hope that she could force Rhonda to trust her. She’s not precisely rational.” She turned to kiss his jaw.

  “And where’s your unfriendly ghost right now?” He cuddled her closer.

  “She’s been flickering out and looking grim since our visit to our sociopathic blogger. I’d really like to get KK into the same room with her father.”

  “You think Vincent is the reason the ghost is lingering? He’s not leaving the UK.”

  Evie shrugged. “After Jane’s revelations and Dante’s claims. . . I know about domestic violence in an intellectual sort of way, but the Gladwells seem so upper crusty British. . . Stupid of me, of course. But then I look at the twins and think about Lucia.”

  “She may have rescued them from an unhappy situation?” Jax suggested.

  She nodded. The screen door bumped open and Pris emerged with a pan of brownies. Offering the chocolate, her cousin spoke as if she’d been listening. “Dante is watching your office video. He reached explosive at the mention of old gold. We need to unleash his rage.”

  The twins came running, shutting off any discussion of how one went about uncovering artifact theft, much less murder and arson. Pris held the platter out of the children’s reach. “What do you say?”

  They looked briefly perplexed, consulted each other with looks, then Alex extended his small palm. “Cookie?”

  “Brownie,” Pris corrected. “What else do you say when you would like something?”

  “I want a brownie.” Nan stuck out her little chin.

  Evie chuckled. “May I have a brownie, please, Pris?” She held out her hand and was rewarded with chocolaty goodness.

  The twins brightened, repeated the magic phrase, and ran off with their reward.

  “One needs to be a mind reader to bring up children?” Jax suggested, accepting the decadent dessert.

  “Worried?” Pris taunted.

  Evie shivered as she considered potential children. Men tended to flee once faced with kids who sometimes knew too much—or acted too weird. She’d like to have kids someday, but she didn’t want to lose Jax.

  He finished chewing his mouthful of chocolate and shrugged. “Kids are just another challenge.”

  Evie almost melted like the chocolate.

  Dante limped out to join them. “Leo has to be the thief,” he declared, taking one of the porch chairs. “The photograph of KK with the necklace doesn’t tell me enough. It could be a museum replica. But if Bella is receiving stolen artifacts in their oil shipments, Leo has to be involved.”

  “Evidence,” Evie said at the same time as Jax. They elbowed each other, just like an old married couple, and her already melting insides were reduced to hot bubbling liquid.

  Pris set the half empty pan on the porch rail and perched beside it. “Let the police handle it.”

  “I’ve set some of my London relations on the Bella warehouses.” Dante helped himself to a brownie. “They’ll notify the police if they discover anything. I’ve talked to colleagues familiar with the black market for Italian artifacts, and they’re working that end. But Leo—”

  “Is your friend and neighbor,” Evie commiserated.

  “And Lucia’s cousin and potential heir if we find evidence that she’s no longer alive.” Dante looked miserable. “I knew he was hiding something, but I just cannot fathom. . .”

  “I looked into it. In Italy, it takes twenty years to have someone declared dead, and no one has even reported Lucia missing. As next of kin, Leo would have to make the report. Stay out of it, Dante,” Jax advised.

  Dante watched his children playing in the twilight and shook his head. “I can’t. If there is any chance that Lucia was murdered. . .”

  “You still can’t do anything,” Pris told him. “Let’s stick with what we have here first.”

  Evie reached for another brownie. “R&R dug through the sheriff’s records for KK’s list of possessions. It includes a necklace. We’ll ask Sheriff Troy in the morning if you can see it—and touch it.”

  “I don’t suppose they’d let him touch the limoncello bottle?” Pris asked.

  “Troy knows we’re weird. If we can give him directions that solve the case, he won’t argue.” Evie rocked the love seat with her toe. “I’m just now realizing that psychic crime solving means we never have evidence and always need confessions.”

  Jax squeezed her warningly. “A good interrogator can work with knowledge. Let Troy do his job.”

  Evie kissed his jaw soothingly. “You are so trusting.”

  And her family had learned not to be, which was why they resorted to underhanded methods of which Jax did not approve. Usually. Maybe he was coming around?

  “We need to question Matt and Rhonda,” Pris said. “What will it take to get them in one place?”

  “A weapon?” Jax suggested darkly. “Letting a ghost terrorize suspects didn’t work so well last time.”

  Dante looked puzzled.

  Evie wrinkled her nose at mention of her last case. “It didn’t work as intended because we had the wrong suspects, but we drove the crazy ladies into crawling out of the woodwork anyway. I don’t think we have crazies here, unless we count Jane.”

  Pris shook her head at Dante when he started to question. “Don’t ask. I’ll tell you later, but you won’t like it. Let’s stick to here and now. How do we approach Matt and Rhonda?”

  “Inventory,” Jax said gloomily. “I tell them if they want the insurance money, they need to come here and verify the inventory lists against items on the shelf and sign off on it.”

  “That will take all of two minutes. The place was practically empty when I saw it.” Evie shoved curls out of her eyes.

  “Now who’s the naïf?” Jax tapped her on the head. “They’ll sneak in to fill the shelves with damaged goods or damp boxes or whatever it takes. Just give them enough time to hang themselves—if they’re the thieves you think.”

  “Plotting, I love it,” Evie cried. “I’ll get Dante into the sheriff’s office tomorrow. Jax can entice Rhonda and Matthew into insurance fraud. And R&R can film it all!”

  “While you’re at it, spring Jane so she can burn down the rest of the building,” Pris said dryly. “I’m putting the kids to bed before you figure out how to raise Lucia from the dead.”

  “Sarcasm, lowest form of humor,” Evie shouted after her.

  “Do not do anything that will return Vincent to these shores,” Dante warned. “The man apparently has no conscience.”

  Thirty-one: Dante

  Dante tried not to feel like a fool fingering the ornate multi-pendant gold necklace while hoping for recent impressions of KK. He could at least offer his professional opinion aloud. “It is definitely Etruscan, probably 5th century BC, one of the best pieces I’ve ever seen. It belongs in a museum.”

  Little of KK clung to the gold. Dante had the feeling she was too weak to leave her mark on real life and certainly not on a piece this rich in history.

  Sheriff Troy nodded with interest. “But as a motive for murder?”

  Dante shook his head. “Selling it would require knowing people willing to acquire ancient artifacts under the table. That, I cannot tell you. I do have colleagues making inquiries.”

  “What about Jane?” Evie asked. “She saw it. She was angry. She might know about gold but not museum pieces. Is that motive enough?”

  Dante knew she asked the last for the sheriff’s purpose, but she was reminding him to look for impressions from a woman he scarcely knew. Dante shook his head to let her know there was nothing of Jane on it.

  “We’ll ask the others who were with Katherine at the time of her death. It’s all we can do. From all reports, the boutiques were losing money. How could the owner afford priceless jewelry?” The sheriff returned the necklace to its bag and pushed the limoncello bottle across the desk. “The bottle has been fingerprinted. Everyone touched it. Can you differentiate types of limoncello?”

  Dante brushed his fingers over the writing, as if inspecting that, just in case this was being filmed or watched. He shook his head again. “This is a fairly common brand, perhaps a little more alcoholic content than others. More sugar than lemon, which may be why she preferred it.”

  But Vincent’s vengeful anger had touched it. There were other impressions as well. Vincent just came through loudest.

  Dante rose when Evie did, shaking the sheriff’s hand and thanking him for his time.

  Evie had one last parting question. “Did y’all look to see how much insurance KK’s policy paid to the company? Do they still get paid if she was murdered?”

  Troy frowned at her. “Not your business, Evangeline, but Jax will tell you that a murderer can’t benefit from his crime.”