CHAPTER 6
T he moon casts an eerie glow over the beach as I stare down at the body of the woman I had met not more than an hour ago.
Lying motionless in the sand is Blythe Betty with her body illuminated by the faint light of the stars above. I recoil in horror as the sound of crashing waves deafens me.
Before I can even process what’s happened, a scream evicts from my throat, piercing into the night air with a desperate cry for help that seems to hang suspended in the darkness.
Help isn’t going to come for that poor woman. It’s too late for Blythe.
Fish runs my way. Don’t worry, Bizzy , she shouts over the roar of the waves. I’ll take care of Chestnut and Acorn!
“Who?” I ask, only slightly engaged. I can’t seem to tear my gaze off the poor woman lying at my feet.
Her puppies, Fish shouts once again as she runs over to the two Pomeranians shivering not too far away and, sure enough, Fish does her best to herd them back toward the café. There’s no reason those sweet things should be subjected to a grizzly scene like this.
The sound of voices escalates from behind and I turn to see bodies draining in this direction from the café.
Oh, good grief.
In less than a moment, a handful of women from the Friendsgiving party has made their way down the beach with their dogs barking and whining in confusion.
Claudia and Vera are the first to arrive and their faces are etched with concern as they rush to my side.
“Bizzy, what’s wrong?” Claudia’s voice trembles. “We heard screaming,” she pants before glancing down at the lifeless body of her friend. Claudia’s eyes widen in shock. “What in the world?”
Both Claudia and Vera belt out a little cry and I can hear their thoughts swirling around me in a cacophony of worry and disbelief that threatens to overwhelm my senses.
“Oh my goodness.” Vera buries her face in Claudia’s shoulder and begins to whimper.
An icy breeze blasts through, spraying us with saltwater as the cry of seagulls goes off in the distance.
Before I can form a coherent response, my mother and Georgie appear on the scene.
“Bizzy, is that you screaming?” Mom cries out as they scramble in my direction.
“Tell us the truth,” Georgie says dryly. “Were you barking at the moon, or were you barking at the moon?” She knocks her elbow into my mother’s side. “I’ve been telling you for years that the woman is part werewolf.”
“Well, my ex is a hairy beast.” Mom lifts a finger as if to extrapolate on the hairy point when she does a double take at the body lying lifeless among us. “Oh no .” A sickly moan escapes her. “Not another one,” she mutters under her breath. “Couldn’t you let us have one decent gathering without dragging the dead into it?”
“I’ll say.” Georgie clucks her tongue. “I haven’t even gotten to the pie. Go on and drag this body back to wherever you found it, Bizzy. We’re not interested.” She links her arm to my mother’s and does her best to try to drag her off.
“Oh my word,” Mom howls. “Is that Blythe?” Her voice carries with the breeze, and soon the name Blythe Betty takes off like an echo with the women crowding the shoreline.
“Let me see this,” a sharp voice hacks through the chaos and I look over to see Magda Cooper shoving her friends aside to get a better view of the deceased. “Why, yes, it is Blythe—and she’s dead.” Screams go off in a chorus all around us as Magda shakes her head at the woman. I’ll have to do my best to make it look as if I care, she thinks to herself . But I don’t care one iota that Blythe had a date with the Grim Reaper this evening. I’m just glad I lived long enough to see the day—even if I did work a little to make this day happen. I think I’ll uncork some bubbly when I get home. This night couldn’t have ended on a better note .
“What?” I say out loud as I look at the woman, but with the screams and cries going off all around us, she hardly notices my minor inquisition.
An entire litany of other internal voices go off as well.
It can’t be Blythe. It just can’t!
Why would anyone want to hurt her?
Who did this to her?
Oh goodness, there’s a gun in her hand. She’s done this herself!
Mom grips my arm with the strength of a hungry bear. “We need to call someone,” she cries, clearly rattled. “We need to call for an ambulance, or I suppose it’s too late for that. Maybe we should call the cemetery?”
“Good idea,” Georgie says, just as shaken. “Maybe they can fit us all for a casket while they’re at it.” She wags a finger my way. “We know you’re after us, Bizzy Baker Wilder.”
I shake my head at the woman, but before I can respond, a tall, dark-haired handsome homicide detective arrives on the scene, panting like mad from the sprint over.
“I came as soon as I could,” he shouts between ragged breaths. Jasper cuts through the darkness like a beacon of authority. His hair is tousled by the wind as he steps in close, and Sherlock bounds by his side with his ears perked up at attention.
“Sherlock came and got me,” Jasper says as his light gray eyes scan the crowd for answers before he lands on the body before us. “ Geez .”
“Her name is Blythe Betty,” I tell him. “She’s a friend of my mother’s. I just met her this evening. I was letting the dogs out to use the restroom and they ran right over. We just found her like this.”
Jasper drops to his knees and quickly checks her vitals before shaking his head up at me with a grim expression.
“She’s gone,” he says, rising to his feet. “And I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do to bring her back.” He plucks out his phone. “I’m going to call this in.” He steps to the side to do just that.
The night air is heavy with tension and terror as the murmurs from the crowd rise from behind, and seemingly within moments the grounds are covered with deputies from the Seaview Sheriff’s Department along with the coroner’s office.
“The coroner’s office,” Georgie snaps her fingers as one of the men from the office strides by wearing a dark jacket with glowing letters, alerting us to which department he belongs to. “Now that’s who we should have called.”
“911 is the right answer,” I tell her. “Mom, why don’t you take Georgie and the rest of your friends back into the café? I don’t think they should see this. And please stop Emmie from coming this way as well. She definitely shouldn’t be subjected to this horror.”
“Too late,” Emmie says, waddling over in the sand. She might not be big enough to waddle just yet, but it’s probably safer for the baby that way. “Oh my word,” Emmie cries out as she sees the scene for herself. “Bizzy, what have you done?”
“Would you stop?” I practically hiss just as Leo Granger jogs up on the scene as well. Leo is Emmie’s official plus-one and her baby daddy, too.
“All right, Emmie, back you go,” he says, pulling his wife away from the area. “And you ladies as well, come with me,” he says firmly. Leo is tall, dark, and handsome just like Jasper, and he’s also just as no-nonsense as Jasper. That’s what I love about them both.
Let me guess, Bizzy—you found the body? Leo asks internally as he glances back at me, and I nod, assuring him as much. Face it, you’re a bad luck charm , he says as he winks my way, although I don’t think he’s kidding. You’re not working for the Grim Reaper, are you?
Very funny, I shoot back.
I wasn’t joking . He laughs to himself. Hey, if the pay is halfway decent, I might just join you.
I shake my head as they take off into the crowd. I usually enjoy our little telepathic exchanges.
Usually.
Leo manages to herd Emmie, along with my mother, Georgie, and a small handful of other women, back toward the café. Although a bigger handful of women has stubbornly dug their heels into the sand and isn’t going anywhere. And suddenly, there’s a smattering of men in the crowd as well, most likely guests from the inn. I’ll have to start in on the damage control posthaste.
I can’t believe she sent herself to the great beyond , one voice says, sounding rather sullen.
Good riddance to the Wicked Witch of the East, another voice chimes and I suck in a quick breath as I scan the crowd once again.
That was a terrible thing to say.
There she lies, reaping the fruit of my labor , yet another voice strums into the night. Sweet dreams, beautiful Blythe. Until we meet again—in Hell.
A breath hitches in my throat as I cast another glance at the crowd, but there’s no indication regarding who said what.
And what did they mean by the fruits of their labor? As in, they murdered her? Or drove her to do the deadly deed themselves?
Claudia and Vera step forward and sniff at their best friend as tears stream down their faces. Not more than a few feet behind them is Magda with her dark hair whipping in the wind. And if I’m not mistaken, I’d say that there was a slight smile on that woman’s face.
A rather dark smile.
I shake my head.
Of course, even a grimace can be misinterpreted to look like a smile.
Just like a homicide can be staged to look like something else entirely.
I glance down at the gun in Blythe’s right hand and wonder if that’s exactly what’s happened here.