The Mystery of the Pink Aura Page 7

  Jaxson placed a hand on my arm. “What’s wrong?”

  “The new deputy is here with one of the contestants.”

  “Why is that a problem?” Thankfully, Jaxson kept his voice low.

  “Let them sit down first, and then I’ll tell you.”

  The next minute was a bit hairy, but I was pleased when the hostess seated them far enough away so they couldn’t hear us. The bad news was that if Nash looked in our direction, he’d see me.

  “Glinda, what’s wrong?” Penny asked.

  “Switch seats with me? Or rather with us. Please.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Our new deputy just walked in, and I don’t want him to see me.”

  Penny’s mouth opened. “Nash Solano is here?”

  Isn’t that what I’d just said? “Yes, he’s here. Now, get up but don’t be obvious. We have to do it without attracting notice.”

  “How can we do that?”

  I felt as if I was in some kind of slap-stick movie. “You go to the bathroom, and then I’ll move over to your spot. A minute later, Jaxson can then get up, and Sam will take his place,” I said.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “Excuse me,” Penny said in a too-loud voice. She stood and then walked toward the ladies’ room.

  Pretending I needed to tell Sam something, I moved next to him. After another fake bathroom trip by Jaxson, we were finally sitting where Penny and Sam had been.

  “Now tell me what’s going on,” Penny said, thankfully keeping her voice low.

  “The woman with him is one of the dog show contestants.”

  “I knew it. There is something going on with him. There’s been a lot of secrecy surrounding Nash Solano from the moment he entered our town,” Penny said.

  “I know. Even Jaxson couldn’t find much on him.”

  Penny’s eyes widened. “You researched him?”

  I couldn’t tell if Penny thought that was horrible idea or a great one.

  “I did,” Jaxson stated.

  “Because I asked him to,” I said. “The point is that Nash is with Amy. Does that mean he had something to do with the missing dogs? I mean he comes to town and the next day the theft occurs.”

  Sam held up a hand. “Let’s not jump to conclusions—and that is a real stretch. I know what that can do to a person.”

  He was right. “Give me a reason why they’d be together this far from town.”

  Jaxson held up a finger. “There aren’t a lot of places to eat in Witch’s Cove. Even more so now, with the competition in town.”

  “You have a point.”

  “I did have the chance to look into Amy. She works here in Holland as an elementary school teacher.”

  “Oh. Do you think Nash interviewed her, and because he thought she was hot, he asked her out?” Not that they’d know the answer, but I wanted their opinion.

  Jaxson let out a breath. “I didn’t think you were the conspiratorial type, Glinda.”

  Ouch. “I’m not. At least not usually. I just like to understand what we’re dealing with.”

  Penny leaned forward. “If Amy teaches here, she’s practically a Witch’s Cove local. I’m betting Maude or Miriam would have the scoop on her.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Jaxson leaned back. “Now that we have that settled, let’s enjoy ourselves.”

  He was right. I’d become too consumed with this case, so much so that not only had I forgotten my father’s fiftieth birthday, I’d forgotten that I was supposed to bake a few dishes. That was wrong on so many levels. Tomorrow after work, I’d shop and then cook. I didn’t have the time to go driving around town looking for the dogs.

  That wouldn’t be a big deal since I was rather confident that Jaxson would probably do his computer magic. Unless I found out something concrete to offer the sheriff, my job was done.

  Just realizing that helped relax me. When the server came over to take our order, I asked for a glass of Chardonnay and a nice juicy steak. I was ready to enjoy the company.

  Chapter Nine

  “How was your date?” Iggy asked as he waddled into the kitchen early the next morning.

  “Fine.”

  “Fine? That’s not an answer. I want to know if you enjoyed yourself.”

  Who was he? “You sound like Mom or Aunt Fern.”

  Iggy opened and then shut his mouth. “That’s because I care about you.”

  I chuckled. “It’s because you are nosy.”

  He lifted his head. “That too.”

  Knowing Iggy, if I didn’t give him some news, he’d push. I thought about telling him that Nash and Amy were at the restaurant, but I feared my pink blabbermouth might tell the wrong person. “I had a very nice time. I even enjoyed being with adults instead of listening to gossip and following clues.”

  “Cool.”

  That was it? Just cool? I doubt he’d let it drop, but I hoped he did.

  “I thought so.”

  “What are you doing now?” Iggy asked as he waddled closer and then crawled up the side of the counter to the counter top. I swear, there was no place he couldn’t reach.

  “After work, I need to make my cranberry sauce as well as a sweet potato casserole for Dad’s birthday tomorrow. But before that, I have to stop by the store to buy the ingredients.”

  I had very few supplies since most of my meals were cooked by the restaurant chef.

  “You know how to cook?” Iggy asked.

  I glanced over at him. “Funny, funny. Just because I don’t do it often, doesn’t mean I don’t know how.” He’d seen me prepare meals before.

  He lifted his head higher. “Who’s going to the party?”

  I had to remember what my mother told me. “Besides Aunt Fern, I think Tim and Sheila Oglethorpe. Those are their best friends.”

  “Don’t they own the flower shop?” he asked.

  I was impressed that Iggy paid attention to such things. “They do. You have a good memory.”

  He puffed out his chest with pride. “I do, don’t I?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “What about your uncles? Are they coming?”

  That was a sore spot. “I don’t think so. Dad’s family now lives out of state.”

  “It’s a big birthday. When you turned twenty-one, you had a big blow out bash.”

  “That’s true.” I was still in college, and all of my friends had thrown a surprise party for me. Some of the events from that night might never be remembered.

  “Are you asking Jaxson to your dad’s party?” Iggy asked.

  Why in the world did he think I would? “No. I doubt he’d enjoy himself. I’m not sure he even remembers my dad, who I love by the way, but he’s rather…”

  “Stuffy and Beta?”

  I was shocked. “Iggy Goodall. That’s not a nice thing to say.”

  “It’s true, you know.”

  My familiar had a point, though I was surprised he was even aware of the difference between an Alpha male and a Beta one. “Being Beta isn’t a bad thing, you know. Dad is a funeral director. He has to exude sympathy and kindness.” I just wished he’d been more open with me growing up.

  “You need a bad boy to counteract your stubbornness.”

  I laughed, because what he said might be true. Jaxson certainly had been a bad boy, but the problem was that I still liked Steve. He wasn’t a bad boy in the traditional sense. His determination to do the right thing appealed to me. Either that, or I had a need to prove to him I wasn’t a quack.

  “What do you know about relationships?” I asked as I fixed a bowl of cereal. I couldn’t spend too long chatting. I had to get to work.

  “Ouch. I’d like to see you handle a cat.”

  Now I’d offended him. “I meant human relationships.”

  “I know more than you think. I’m a keen observer of human behavior,” he said.

  He might be right. “I’d be happy to discuss my love life further, but my shifts starts in a few minutes.”

>   Once I finished my quick meal, I donned the rest of my costume and headed downstairs, ready to tackle what I suspected would be a busy day.

  After a never-ending eight hours, I headed upstairs. Iggy was in the kitchen, clearly waiting to be fed. “Let me change, and I’ll fix you a plate of greens.”

  “Okay.”

  Once I took off my costume, I pulled on a pair of baggy pants and a loose top. I then fixed Iggy his greens and placed a bowl of water on the floor.

  “I need a few things from the store,” I told him. “I’ll be back in a jiff.”

  “Okay. Take your time,” he said.

  “You aren’t going to do anything, are you?”

  He looked up at me. “No.”

  I had the sense that Iggy would always be trouble.

  True to my word, I drove to the store, bought the few necessary ingredients, and returned home in under forty-five minutes. I was happy the store was fairly empty, because it allowed me to zip in and out.

  “I’m home,” I called as I entered. I tossed the keys on the side table and stepped into the kitchen.

  Iggy was there still enjoying his food. “What are you getting your dad for his birthday?” he asked. “A whoopie cushion?”

  Who had raised this animal? It had to be Aunt Fern’s influence. “No. A tie and some cufflinks.”

  “Bor-ing.”

  “Then he should think it’s the perfect gift.”

  Iggy lifted a claw, but I was too preoccupied to figure out what he meant. I was sure it wasn’t a nice gesture.

  Focus. I located a small saucepan and placed it on the stove. After setting out the dried cranberries, the cranberry juice, some sugar, and the salt shaker on the counter, I was ready to go.

  I didn’t need to check the recipe since every time the family got together, I was asked to make the same two dishes. Last Christmas, I wanted to be adventurous and try my hand at a spinach quiche. I had forgotten to pick up heavy cream, and the half and half replacement I had in the fridge made the quiche watery. After that fiasco, I was relegated to the two things I was good at making.

  I placed the ingredients into the pot and turned on the heat. It wasn’t long before the liquid boiled. Once I mixed the cornstarch and water together, I slowly poured it into the mixture, making sure to stir the pot in between each addition. When it came to a boil again, I took it off the stove to cool.

  “You need to grow a hibiscus plant so you can feed me the flowers,” Iggy announced without prompting.

  I laughed, partly because I didn’t know where that comment came from. “I have a black thumb, which is why I don’t have any plants in my apartment.”

  “You’re just saying that, so you don’t have to take the time to water the plant.”

  “I’d kill it for sure. Maybe Aunt Fern would have better luck.” Or wasn’t this about the plant, but rather about me caring for him?

  Jaxson had acted out because his father had been too busy to pay attention to him. I hoped I wasn’t doing the same thing to Iggy.

  He climbed down from the counter, clearly bored with my cooking. “I’ll ask her.”

  “I think she is working,” I called after him.

  The cat door swung open. Oh, my. How had I managed to raise such an entitled animal? Or was it a cry for help?

  Before I put the cranberries into the blender, I started the yam casserole. I didn’t know what the calorie count was for even a half of a cup of this recipe, but I bet it was high. Since Dad seemed to be losing weight at an alarming rate, I wanted to make the recipe as rich as possible. That meant real brown sugar and pure butter. It was the raisins and mini marshmallows on top that really was the pièce de résistance.

  After I blended the cranberries and stored the final product in the refrigerator, I finished making the yams. Since I wouldn’t be serving them until tomorrow, I didn’t have to heat them until then.

  Once I was done, I poured myself a glass of wine and dropped onto the sofa, wondering how my life seemed to have gotten so out of control.

  Chapter Ten

  It was only five, yet I was feeling a bit unsettled. It was Sunday, which meant the very ancient theater in town would be showing some classic movie. I hadn’t been there in probably a year, but I thought it would do me good to get out. This whole mystery of the pink aura was stressing me out, and I needed a break to clear my head.

  One thing I loved about that place was that the building had been erected in the 1920s yet still maintained its charm. The ceiling was painted a bright blue, with luminescent stars placed in no particular order, and the interior was made to look like a Broadway theater right down to the painted box seats that only looked real when the lights were low. It even had a mezzanine section. In front of the movie screen was a stage. When I was little, before the show began, an organ and its accompanist would rise from below and play a song or two. Oh, how I used to look forward to going with my parents.

  I checked out the movie schedule to see which movie was showing. When I saw the title, I squealed.

  Iggy jerked to attention. “What happened?”

  “They’re playing Murder On The Orient Express at the theater—the 1974 version, not the newer one.”

  “Oh. I thought maybe the new Star Wars movie was out.”

  They were still making those? “No, this is a classic.”

  “Haven’t you seen it like ten times?” Iggy asked.

  “Yes, but each time I watch the movie, I see something I missed.”

  I snapped my fingers. The Howl At The Moon Emporium was closed today. Maybe Drake wanted to go. He was a classic movie buff too. I dialed his number.

  “Hey, I heard you had an interesting evening last night,” Drake said as a way of a greeting.

  “I did.” I hadn’t thought Jaxson would say anything. It wasn’t as if we’d kissed goodnight or anything. We’d started as friends and ended as friends. Since I didn’t want Drake to ask any more questions—ones I wasn’t ready to answer, I continued. “Murder On The Orient Express is playing at the theater tonight. Do you want to go? It will be like old times.”

  “Sunday nights at that theater brings back a lot of memories.”

  “It does, doesn’t it?” He didn’t need to say that after Jaxson had been arrested, our lives had also changed, and we rarely ever went. “Are you interested in going?”

  “Sure, but you already know the ending of the movie.”

  “Because I’ve seen it a bunch of times?”

  “Of course,” he said.

  “That’s the fun of it. I like to find things I haven’t noticed before.”

  “You amaze me, Glinda Goodall,” Drake said.

  His comment was warm and comfortable. “Show starts at six thirty. Meet you there?”

  “How about l pick you up at six? I know we could walk, but I don’t want to get all sticky before the show.”

  That was something I would say. “Perfect.”

  I knew this wasn’t a date. Drake always implied he wasn’t into women, but I’d never seen him with a man either. He was reliable, a good listener, and hot. I never understood why he wasn’t married with kids—regardless of who his partner was.

  Right now, I wanted to take a shower, grab a quick bite, and then change.

  At six on the dot, I was outside waiting for my ride. I had asked Iggy to go with us, but he said the movie was boring. I couldn’t blame him. This version was made a long time ago, but no one was as amazing as Agatha Christie.

  Drake’s car pulled into the lot, and I was surprised to find Jaxson was with him. I slid in the back.

  “I hope you don’t mind if my brother joins us,” Drake said as he pulled onto the road.

  “Of course not. The more the merrier.” I meant it too. Did my face flush from inhaling Jaxson’s cologne? Maybe. But tonight, I was determined to relax. Or was I in denial?

  I would have said this was like old times, except I don’t think the three of us ever went out together. “I didn’t know you liked old movi
es, Jaxson.”

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. “I am a man of mystery and many talents.”

  I laughed, as I’m sure was his intention. One of those talents, however, was probably not enjoying old Agatha Christie movies.

  No surprise, the parking lot was mostly empty. Even though I could hear Jaxson saying that a man should pay for a woman, because he’d picked up the tab for our steak dinner, I pulled out my credit card first. “My treat, since I invited you.” Actually, I only invited Drake, but it didn’t matter.

  Drake grinned. “Great. I love it. I wish there were more people like you.”

  He was teasing, but I appreciated that he didn’t want me to be embarrassed.

  With our tickets in hand, we stepped into the theater where history surrounded me again.

  “Let’s sit upstairs,” Jaxson suggested.

  “Why?” I loved it up there, but I was curious to know Jaxson’s reasoning.

  “I like being able to see everyone.”

  I laughed. “At this moment, we are the only ones in the theater.” The rest were still in the lobby at the concession stand.

  “So?” he asked.

  Both of the Harrison boys seemed to be enjoying this. To be honest, so was I. After a few previews of coming movies, the old movie began, and I sat back to dissect every sentence.

  Throughout the movie, I was struck by the amazing mind of Hercule Poirot. I remained in awe of his logic, his unemotional analysis of the case, and his ability to see through a person’s lies. I was nothing like this man. I believed what most people told me—so unlike Hercule. I never understood where the math side of my brain went when I worked on a case, since I often let emotion get the best of me.

  Since Drake had seen the movie many times too, he’d throw out a spoiler every now and then about how that person was related to the little girl who’d been abducted years before.

  When the show finished, we headed out. “That was great,” I said. “Thanks for joining me.”

  “Our pleasure,” Drake said. “I figured you’d want to go because rumor has it someone is interested in tearing down this building and the ice cream shop next door to put up a condominium.

  My heart dropped to my stomach. “No! They can’t do that. The theater has been around since Methuselah.”