Charms and Chocolate Chips: A Magical Bakery Mystery (13 page)

“Hmm.” I returned it to the box and stuffed it in my pocket.

Traffic was light, and nary a tour bus guide could be heard. That was unusual, to say the least. We crossed, and I unlocked the car.

Loaded with a box apiece, we started back across Broughton.

“I guess I’d better give it to Detective Quinn since it came from a crime scene,” I said. “It looks to be worth some real money, too. Maybe it’s included in Autumn’s will?”

Tires squealed on the pavement, and I whirled to see a late-model SUV careening around the far corner.

“Where’s the fire?” I muttered as we paused to let it go by. Without warning, it veered into the oncoming lane and headed straight for us.

“Katie!” Wren screamed.

Dropping the box I was holding, I turned and pushed her as hard as I could. At the same time I
pushed
against the metal monster bearing down on us. Wren fell between the Bug and the car parked in front of it, crying out as she hit the curb. I twisted my torso up onto the hood of my car, arms and legs pinwheeling as I rolled over to the sidewalk on the other side. I thumped to the ground, landing on my hip and arm. The pain registered someplace in the back of my mind, but I was too focused on staying alive to pay much attention.

A hideous crunching sound ripped the air, and Wren screamed again. The engine gunned loudly. Metal screeched on metal, groaning as it folded and crumpled. The Bug hid most of the SUV from my view, but I could see a heavy black tire far too close to my head and a flash of the white roof above as it backed away. Another tooth-numbing screech rent the air; then rubber squealed on the pavement. The roar of the engine receded as the vehicle accelerated away.

After a small eternity, I gathered my wits and pushed myself to my knees, absently grateful that for once I wasn’t wearing a skirt.

“Wren!” I was yelling even though she was only a few feet away. “You okay?”

“I think so.” Her voice shook.

Standing on wobbly legs, I took two steps to find she had crawled onto the sidewalk. She looked blearily up at me. It took a few seconds before I realized her glasses had been knocked off. Retrieving them from the sidewalk, I held them out to her. “At least they’re not broken.”

She didn’t reach for them. “No, but I’m pretty sure my arm is.”

“
Wren!
Ohmygodhoneyareyouokay?” Anguish rolling off her, Mimsey was upon us, followed immediately by Lucy, Ben, Annette from the knitting shop, Croft from the bookshop, about fourteen total strangers . . . and my mother.

Who stood blinking at me as though she didn’t know me at all.

“I’m okay, Grandma, I’m okay.” Wren tried to stand but yelped when her wrist accidently touched the fender of my car.

Ben pushed through the primarily female crowd and carefully helped her to her feet.

“I called 911,” Croft announced.

“Thanks.” The response was automatic. Everything was automatic. I felt like a robot.

“What happened?” Ben demanded.

“A car, some kind of SUV, came around the corner and . . . I’m not sure what happened after that,” I said. “For no reason, it came right for us.”

“Did anyone else see anything?” he asked, looking around at the crowd. I heard him as if from a great distance, and then someone said from very far away, “The sunlight flashed off the window, so I couldn’t see inside.” Other voices gabbled agreement.

Sirens approached, and I realized I was now sitting on the curb without knowing how I got there. My mother was dabbing at a cut on my arm with a damp towel. She was talking, but I couldn’t wrap my mind around what the words meant. She looked up and seemed to be talking to someone else. Strong arms lifted me, and I looked up into a pair of loving blue eyes.

“Deck,” I said, “put me down. I’m okay.”

“The hell you are.” His arms tightened protectively around me.

I wanted to close my eyes and let him take care of me. Sleep. Not deal with anything.

No. I can’t do that. Get it together.

The world came back to me in an audible rush. Colors were brighter, individual beads of humidity collided against my skin, and the afternoon sunlight swirled through the air. I could smell diesel and spice and Declan’s shampoo, hear his heart beating like a sledgehammer and his breath that sounded like a tsunami as he carried me into the Honeybee and over to the reading area. It was as if everything had somehow become more
real
. With eerily calm fascination, I took it all in, even as my senses began to fade back to normal. The whole experience lasted only ten seconds or so, but I knew the memory would remain with me for the rest of my life.

“Honest, I’m fine,” I managed to say.

Something in my voice must have been different, because after one gauging look into my eyes, Declan tentatively set me on my feet, his hands on my elbows as I eased onto the sofa.

“Wow. That was weird,” I said.

“It’s called shock.”

“Maybe.” But it had been more than that. I looked around. Mama had followed us in but was hanging back. I waved her over. “You two have met, then?”

Declan looked at her, and something passed between them. Suddenly they were both grinning.

“You do know how to make introductions exciting,” he teased.

I noticed he was still in uniform. “You’re here professionally?” I asked.

“We were doing building inspections nearby. Got here in two minutes. But I’d hardly call any response to your almost getting run down in the street professional. You scared the bejesus out of me.”

“Me, too,” Mama added.

“How’s Wren?”

“She’s on her way to the emergency room. Ben and Lucy are still talking to the police outside. I’ll be right back.”

I started shaking all over.

“Adrenaline rush,” Declan said in a soothing voice. I wondered how often he had to use it in his line of work. “Give it a few minutes and you’ll feel better.”

My mother returned with a glass of water clenched in both hands. The liquid trembled, and I saw how upset she was. “It’s okay, Mama. I feel”—
amaaazing
—“fine now.”

Her eyes never left my face as she put the glass down on the coffee table and sat next to me.

“McCarthy?” called a voice. “You available?”

Declan looked at me, and I nodded. “Go ahead. Do your job. I’ll be okay.”

After giving me a quick squeeze, he went back outside. For the first time in almost a year I was alone with my mother.

“What did you do out there?” she whispered. Her eyes shone an iridescent green to my heightened senses. “That truck was coming straight for you.”

“The driver must have swerved.” I wondered if I looked as flushed as I felt. With each heartbeat, I felt the ebb and flow of blood in every vein and artery.

“They didn’t swerve.” Mama crossed her arms over her chest.

I giggled. I didn’t mean to, but it escaped before I knew it was there. Clamping my hand over my mouth, I struggled to maintain a sense of decorum. It wasn’t hysteria—it was just that I felt so strangely
good
after I . . .

“I pushed it away,” I said.

She blinked, but then she said in a new voice, “I’ve never seen anything like it.” Resignation and perhaps a little wonder were mixed in the words.

“Did anyone else notice?” I asked in alarm.

“Lucy might have—she was looking out the window, too. But your light would have obscured it from most people.” She bit her lower lip. “I must say, you were rather subtle despite the urgency of the situation.”

Now I was staring at her. My mother had gone from trembling to practical in less than a minute. Grabbing the glass, I sucked down half the water.

“My
light
?” I asked after swallowing.

“That blinding flash.” Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t know?”

I shook my head, remembering someone outside saying that the reflection of light off the window made it hard for them to see.

Lucy came in from the street, followed by Ben and Detective Quinn. Ben pointed toward the library. Quinn saw me, nodded, and came over.

I stood, still feeling light-headed. “Detective Peter Quinn, this is my mother, Mary Jane Lightfoot.”

He took her hand. “Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

“Thank you.” She blushed in the face of his full-wattage Southern charm.

“I’m afraid I need to speak with Katie alone, Ms. Lightfoot.”

“Mary Jane,” she insisted to my surprise. She rose. “I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done, Katie.”

Quinn settled into a chair and assessed me. “You don’t look the worse for wear. Do you want to go to the hospital, get checked out?”

“Nope. I’m okay. I mean, I’m shaken up of course. Someone tried to—” I stopped and felt my eyes go wide. “Quinn, someone tried to kill me!” I hadn’t thought the actual words yet, and now the knowledge hit me like a cartoon anvil.

“Maybe,” Quinn said. “Are you sure it wasn’t an accident?”

I tried to keep my mind on the question and not leap to conclusions. “The driver would have to have been drunk or stoned or . . . I guess it’s possible. I sure like the idea better than the notion of someone targeting me.”

“If it was deliberate—and that’s still the more likely scenario in my opinion—the intended victim was probably Wren Knowles.”

“Because she received the origami bat,” I breathed. “Of course. Did you find out anything else about it?”

He shook his head. “Same as the one Autumn Boles was holding when she died. It was made from paper found in craft shops and artist supply stores all over the area. I’m told it was mostly sold with a selection of other colors and sizes.”

But Wren’s hadn’t felt icky like Autumn’s. Could the first one have given off that aura of decay because of the violence of her death?

Death. Decay.
Embalming
.

“Did you track down Hunter Normandy?” I asked.

He pressed his lips together. “You sure have a lot of questions.”

“Like it or not—and I suspect the answer is ‘not’—I’m smack-dab in the middle of this mess. Of course I have questions.”

He gave me a long look, then finally nodded once. “I guess I can see your point.”

Declan came in and beelined over. “Hey, Peter,” he said to Quinn. “Listen, hon, I’ve got to get going. But I’ll come over tonight as soon as my shift is over, okay?”

The feel of his hand on my shoulder felt grounding, and I ached for more. “Can hardly wait,” I said.

He leaned down and gave me a quick buss, glanced at Quinn, and then returned for a proper kiss. Ruffling my hair, he murmured, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Quinn watched him go. “Does he know you’re still seeing Dawes?”

I stood. “I am not ‘seeing’ Steve. We’re simply friends.”

He rose, too. “Especially now that he can give you the lowdown on the golf course deal.”

I looked away.

“Aha! I knew it. Well, his father was remarkably unhelpful on that count. Anything you might want to share with me?”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. “All of a sudden you don’t seem to mind me asking questions.”

One side of his mouth turned up. “I’ll take information anywhere I can get it when I’m investigating a murder.”

Good. “He didn’t tell me very much. However, he did mention Autumn’s ex-husband. You’ve talked with him, of course.”

“Yesterday.”

“Did you know he had a life insurance policy on her?”

“As it happens, I did.” Quinn sounded impatient.

“Did you also know he wanted to buy into the deal at Fagen Swamp with Heinrich and the rest but didn’t have enough money?”

A low whistle at that. “Interesting.”

“Except he’s withdrawn his bid to be part of the investment team. I don’t know why.”

“Hmm. Anything else?”

“Logan Seward gave the man who rents the cabin in Fagen Swamp sixty days to leave. It sounds like the sale of the land is going through unless we can find definitive proof the maroon bats really exist.”

Quinn patted me on the shoulder. “Good to know. You keep this up and I’m going to have to see about getting you on the payroll.”

I rolled my eyes. “Ha-ha. And does Logan Seward have an alibi for Saturday afternoon?”

“Not a very good one. Said he was in a bar watching the play-off game. Some other patrons remember seeing him, but no one can say exactly when he was there. Eyes on the game and all, plus it sounds like he kept to himself.”

“Hmm. Oh! Wait a second. I just remembered that I have to give you something that I found yesterday.”

Curiosity marked his expression as I retrieved the jeweler’s box.

I reached into my pocket and held the box out to him. “It’s a ring I found in one of the cartons that Officer Feherty let me take out of Georgia Wild yesterday. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I touched both the box and the ring.”

Quinn opened the lid and took out the ring. I guessed I shouldn’t have worried about handling it.

“Feherty missed it?” he asked.

“Yeah, but it was buried in the bottom of a full box of brochures. Plus, the CSI techs had already gone over the place. Don’t be hard on him.”

“I’ll try not to be too much of an ogre about it.” He replaced the circle of filigreed platinum in the jeweler’s box, put it in his pocket, and stood. “You be careful, all right?”

“Count on it,” I said.

•   •   •

The gawker knot from out on the street had moved into the Honeybee. Twenty or so people milled around, asking questions and sharing their thoughts.

“Why was there an ambulance? Was someone hurt?” This came from a concerned-looking gentleman wearing a felt fedora.

“Really? A hit-and-run?” A thrill ran through the teen boy’s voice.

“Did anyone get the license plate number?” asked Croft Barrow, and I mentally cheered his practical approach.

“Only the last two digits. I told the police everything I saw. But it happened so
fast
,” said a ponytailed woman.

“Did you see how fast that SUV was going? And how it totally crushed that car?” said a matronly sort to her friend.

My heart sank. Was she talking about the Bug? I’d been in such a daze when Declan picked me up that I hadn’t even noticed. I made my way through the crowd to the window, only to find that a police van blocked my view.

Steve Dawes walked by on the sidewalk outside, carrying one of the boxes of mailers that Wren and I had dropped. Annette Lander followed with the other one. Steve opened the door for her, and they came into the Honeybee.

“These were scattered all over, but we got most of them,” Annette said, setting her box down on a table. Steve put his on the chair next to it.

“Thank you,” Ben said, hurrying to take them into the office.

Annette turned toward me and put her hands on her hips. “What the heck happened out there? I’m in my shop ringing up a skein of organic cotton for a customer and suddenly,
crash
!”

I winced. “‘Crash’ pretty much sums it up.”

“Well, at least you didn’t get hurt.” She looked worriedly at the door. “I’m sorry, but I really ought to run. I left the shop open.”

“Go,” I said. “And thanks again for your help.”

“You bet.” She lifted her hand and hurried out.

“And thank you, too,” I said to Steve, who still stood by the boxes of mailers.

“Sure.” His eyes examined mine, then moved on to the rest of me. “You’re all right?”

“I’ll have some bruises, but I’ll be okay. How did you know what happened?”

“A little bird told me,” he said.

“Steve—”

“Gotta go.” And with a quick squeeze of my shoulder, he left.

I turned to see Ben coming toward me. My uncle took my elbow and steered me into the kitchen. Mama had stepped in and was quickly loading plates and cups into the big dishwasher. “We can handle the bakery for the rest of the day,” Ben insisted in a low voice. “This rush won’t last long, once they get their fill of muffins and gossip, and Lucy called Cookie. She doesn’t have to work at the gallery until this evening, and she’s coming to help out.”

“But she doesn’t have to,” I protested.

He wasn’t listening. “Will you please go and take a nap? You’re suffering from shock, and you don’t even realize it.”

“Oh, I am not,” I said.

“You’re pale as can be, darlin’. I’ve never seen you so white.”

He had to be making that up. Maybe the sun did scatter a few freckles like Mama’s across my nose, but I’d inherited more of Daddy’s Shawnee complexion than her light Irish skin.

“Besides, I can’t sleep during the day,” I argued. “I barely sleep at night. And I don’t even know if my car is drivable after that jerk ran into it.”

“I took a good look at it,” he said, looking over to where Lucy was frantically trying to keep up with the influx of the curious. “The Beetle has a pretty good scratch on it and a dent in the fender, but it’s fine otherwise. The Toyota that was in front of it, though? Pretty much a total loss.”