CHAPTER 16
B oth Mom and Georgie frown as bodies bustle all around us here at the Crafters Warehouse holiday extravaganza. I just asked them if they’ve seen Claudia and Vera and both my mother and Georgie clammed up and exchanged a cagey glance at the mention of the women.
Fish spikes up in my mother’s arms. Whatever it is, it’s got Grandma good and mad.
She’s not mad, Sherlock says. Grandma says that no matter what we do, she won’t be mad at us. She’s just sad.
She’s mad, you furry doofus, Fish meows. And she’s not mad at us, she’s mad at someone else. Probably that big oaf of yours. Go on, Bizzy. Ask her what Jasper has done now.
“What’s Jasper done now?” I ask, incredulous that he’s done anything at all. Other than trying to stop me from investigating my own case, I can’t think of anything that he’s done—especially not anything to affect these two.
“It’s not Jasper.” Mom sighs. “And we’re not mad per se.” She hitches her head to her left. “It turns out that Claudia and Vera are some sort of marketing geniuses. You wouldn’t believe the traffic they’ve been getting to their booth. Go on and check it out. I’m sure you’ll want to stock up on their magical wares as well.”
“Oh, I will not.” I laugh at the thought. “In fact, I’ll stand strong just to prove my point.” I pat my hand over a Thanksgiving-themed quilt. “But I’m not standing strong when it comes to your wonky wares. Don’t you dare sell this one. I’ll be taking it home myself. You’ve just made another sale.” I didn’t say how much I was willing to pay for it, but that’s beside the point.
“Come on, Biz,” Georgie says, hitching her head to the left. “I’ll take you to see those witches and inspect their wicked wonders.” She pulls a few doggie treats from her pocket and tosses them to the pooches already at attention. “You kids stay here and help Grandma. Look cute and see if those puppy dog eyes of yours can’t rustle up some sales. Fish, you’re in charge while I’m away.”
Aye, aye, captain, Fish mewls with a touch too much pride.
“Hey? I’m the one who’s been in charge around here,” Mom says in protest as Georgie and I start off.
“And that explains our lagging sales,” Georgie shoots back. “Don’t sell the farm while we’re gone,” she calls out. “On second thought, sell the farm so we can go home early!”
Georgie and I navigate our way through the crowd until we get about three booths down where a cheery orange sign reads The Quirky Crafters Welcome You!
And quirky it is. The entire booth is lined with bright orange twinkle lights, and that makes it feel instantly homey. And all of their offerings are just as cozy and delectable.
I’m not the only one who finds this booth oh so cozy —about a dozen women have gathered around, rabidly snatching up items as if somewhere in the mix a hundred-dollar bill has been cleverly hidden.
There’s a large stuffed turkey sitting in the middle of the front table, and on one side of it are beanies knitted into the shape of turkeys in every size and color. To the left of the cute stuffed bird, there’s an entire array of fall-themed aprons with giant felt turkeys laid out over the center of them, and just below that are funny sayings like eat, drink, and cranberry and thankful, blessed, and mashed potato obsessed , and my favorite of the bunch, let’s get basted .
“Look at those two witches.” Georgie snarls over at Claudia and Vera as she pulls me close. “They think they’re the cat’s pajamas.”
“Georgie, they’re making money hand over fist,” I say a touch too enthused. “They are the cat’s pajamas. The inn should be lucky enough to make this much of a profit. Of course, I’m not familiar with their overhead. But if it’s anything like mine, I feel sorry for them.”
It’s true, the inn can be a bear to run. Its massive size alone should have served as a harbinger. But the inn is a part of me now and we’re sinking or swimming together—an irony in and of itself since I’m not so fond of water.
Another crowd pushes in and it seems as if each person scoops up a knitted turkey cap for themselves. I can’t blame them. I’ll admit, they’re pretty darn cute and so are the aprons.
“Oh, I can’t take it,” I say. “I have to have one—heck, I have to get one for everyone I know. Wouldn’t it be special if everyone wore one of those turkey hats while we ate Thanksgiving dinner?”
“It would be special, all right. We’d look like a cult dedicated to poultry worship. Imagine the photos just in time for our Christmas cards.”
I pay no mind to her as I begin to scoop up as many as I can. I grab one for myself, and one for Emmie, maybe my mother, and, well, I’d hate to keep Georgie out of the loop even if she is being a killjoy about them. Oh heck, I’ll probably get one for Macy and for Mackenzie, too. I pick up half a dozen more just in case any other guests want to get in on the good time.
Georgie leans my way in the middle of my scooping spree.
“Which one of these turkeys do you think did the deed?” She plops a turkey cap onto her noggin before hitching her head toward Claudia and Vera.
“Georgie, Blythe was their best friend,” I whisper. “Neither of them is on my suspect list.”
The crowd clears out and Claudia gives a cheery wave our way.
“Georgie, Bizzy.” She smiles wide. Her silver locks are nearly combed to the side and she’s donned a red boiled wool sweater with lots of brass buttons down the front. “Vera, get over here. We’ve got company,” she teases, and soon Vera shuffles this way as well.
“Howdy, ladies.” Vera gives an equally cheery smile. Her auburn locks are flying every which way, and yet she looks just as festive in a green dress while showcasing one of her sassy Thanksgiving-themed aprons as it hugs her body. This particular apron has a cross-eyed turkey on it that reads stuffed with thanks .
“Hey, ladies.” I give a cheery wave back. “Oh, I just fell in love with these hats. And these aprons? I’m going to need a few of them as well,” I say as Claudia happily takes the hats from me and places them in a bag, sans the hat on Georgie’s head. “I’ll take that one, too,” I say, pointing to it and we share a laugh.
“So much for standing strong,” Georgie mutters from the side of her mouth. “More like paying their mortgages.”
“Hey, Georgie that turkey topper is a good look on you,” Vera teases. “You’re going to be great advertising for us.”
“Yeah, well, you can thank this turkey for that.” She hitches a thumb my way and we share another warm laugh.
“Well, in that case, I’m thankful for the both of you,” Vera says before looking my way. “Speaking of things to be thankful for, your mother and Georgie have been gracious enough to step in and help us out when we get swamped. Claudia and I simply don’t have enough hands on deck. We can’t keep these things in stock.”
“I can see why.” I nod to the quickly dwindling inventory. “These are pretty darn adorable. And as you can see, I’ll be leaving with my fair share.”
“Help yourself,” Vera says. “In fact, I’ll give you the friends and family discount. And Georgie, you’ve earned that hat on your head. I won’t dare charge either of you for it. In fact, take one for Ree as well.”
“Thanks, I will,” Georgie says, picking through the inventory. “I’ve been telling that woman for years what a turkey she is.”
Both Claudia and Vera cackle a little too loud at that one.
“It’s all in fun, Bizzy,” Claudia says before leaning in. “How’s the case going? I didn’t realize that your husband was the homicide detective until your mother told us. There’s not really a case here, is there?”
I shake my head. “I’m not quite sure. But if there is, Jasper will get to the bottom of it.” I don’t dare tell anyone that Blythe was murdered. I can’t risk even a whisper of that getting back to the killer.
Vera swats Claudia on the arm. “Now why would they have anything to investigate? The coroner said the case was open and shut.”
I shrug their way. “From what I understand, it’s just a formality.” Until it’s not. “So far there is no case. Jasper is just finishing up the paperwork. But speaking of Blythe, I happened to run into Magda Cooper yesterday when I went to meet my sister for lunch out at that fancy grocery store Magda owns in Rose Glen.”
Both women exchange a glance.
Claudia’s brows furrow as she looks back at me. Is it really a coincidence that Bizzy met with Magda yesterday? She did say she went to lunch with her sister, so I suppose it could be. Vera assured me there’s nothing to investigate, so I’m not going to bother getting worked up over nothing.
That’s an odd thought.
“So what did Magda have to say?” Vera asks, tipping an ear my way.
“Not much.” I lift my shoulders a notch. “I guess she was married to Blythe’s husband way back when. She mentioned that they share three children and that she didn’t really know Blythe all that much.”
Claudia and Vera break out into a sharp laugh.
Georgie shoots me a look. Now this is where we’re gonna get the good stuff out of them, I can tell. That’s not just some regular chuckle, they’re going at it as if they know better—and what they know is darn right juicy.
I nod her way because I happen to agree.
Georgie happens to be one of the few people who knows about my oddball telesensual gift.
“Wow, Magda claims not to have known Blythe all that well?” Claudia looks stymied by this. “If Blythe were alive, she would be pretty ticked to hear it.”
“That’s right.” Vera wipes the tears from her eyes, and I can’t tell if it’s from laughter or grief. At this point, it’s probably a combination. “But don’t worry, Bizzy. We’ve got the dirt on that broad.”
“Boy, do we ever.” Claudia gives a wistful tick of her head.
“We shouldn’t be laughing, but it is ironic that Magda says she didn’t really know Blythe.” Vera glances at her friend and Claudia nods over to her as if to say go ahead . She looks back my way. “It turns out, Blythe and Magda were very best friends growing up. In fact, they were best friends all through high school and beyond.”
“Really?” I inch back a notch. “I guess Magda left out a detail or two. But then, maybe she’s grieving and it was the quickest way out of the conversation.”
Although I didn’t pick up on that at all.
Wait a minute—as soon as I got that conversation going, she thought to herself that she was going to leave out some details. I guess she really did. And now I wonder what else she may have left out.
Claudia offers a mournful smile. “Yes, Blythe and Magda were very close friends. Blythe was Magda’s maid of honor at her wedding when she married Beau.”
Georgie grunts, “And then Blythe married Beau? Talk about a sucker punch.”
“It was exactly that,” Vera says. “And if I didn’t hear Magda say more than once that she couldn’t wait for karma to come around and bite Blythe on the bottom, I heard it a thousand times.”
“A bullet bit her in the chest instead,” Georgie points out.
“ Georgie ,” I all but hiss as I make big eyes at her.
“No, she’s right.” Claudia tosses up her hands. “There’s no denying the facts.”
“That may be true,” I say. “But let’s back up. How in the world did Blythe end up married to Beau?”
The two women share another laugh, this time far darker.
“What do you think?” Claudia asks her friend.
Vera nods. “I think it’s time we told them everything.”