Page 30 of Toxic Apple Turnovers

“Chrissy,” I say, perhaps a little too perky. “You were great the other night. It’s nice to see you again. I’m sorry this isn’t under better circumstances.”

He’s wearing a crisp black suit and black undershirt to match. He looks perfectly somber. Gone is the affable smile he shed so easily the other night.

“I wish that more than you know.” He nods to his friend. “This is Mark, Amanda’s fiancé.”

Both Everett and I extend our sincerest condolences.

“How did you and Amanda meet?” Yes, I went there. I don’t see why not. It’s innocent enough on the surface.

Mark looks to be in his mid-thirties, dark hair, dark eyes, clean-shaven, has an air of superiority about him, and yet he seems simultaneously down-to-earth. But his suit looks expensive and his cologne holds a rich scent that I’m sure was strained through hundred dollar bills.

“Mandy and I met through a friend.” He glances just past Chrissy, and I follow his gaze to Connie. Some friend. “I knew she was the one for me the minute I laid eyes on her. I was in another relationship, but I quickly got out of it. I would never entertain two hearts. It’s not who I am. It’s most certainly not how I was raised.”

A horrible sinking feeling presses over me, and I suddenly feel like a girl guilty of entertaining two hearts—one of which is holding my hand at the moment.

“That’s commendable,” Everett offers. “But it couldn’t have been easy. I’ve been on the receiving end of a breakup before.”

I give his hand a quick squeeze because I’m fairly certain he hasn’t—and then Cormack pops up between us and I gasp.

Of course, it was her. It’s always her.

“Mark, I’m so sorry.” She’s wearing a black feathered number with a low-cut décolleté and a full skirt that looks as if it were better suited for the red carpets than a Honey Hollow funeral. “Have they caught the killer? Any idea who could have done this?”

Mark ticks his head to the side as if he were stymied. “There were motives, but we’ll have to let the sheriff’s department do their job.”

“Motives?”

He nods my way. “There are lots of speculations about Connie’s connection. She knows it.”

Owlbert screams as if someone just yanked off a wing. “The other two—who-whoare they?”

Everett grunts—I’m guessing due to all the screaming in his ear. “What are the other two motives?”

Mark looks to Chrissy, and a huff of a laugh bounces through his chest. “Greed. The answer is right there. And, of course”—he turns to his right, and his gaze sharpens hard over someone—“secrets.”

I follow his gaze, but there’s no one to see but my mother standing with Carlotta, Mayor Nash, and Pastor Gaines.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Mark takes off into the crowd.

“That was ominous,” I say to Chrissy.

He does a quick sweep of the vicinity before stepping in. “Mark has his theories, but he doesn’t want to share. Soon as word gets out, he’s afraid it’ll spook whoever did this.”

“Do you know what he meant by greed and secrets?” I’m hoping he does.

He shakes his head. “He won’t spill it, and I’ve stopped asking. I have full confidence in the Ashford Sheriff’s Department.”

“As do I,” I echo. “You know, I haven’t seen Janelle, and I was hoping to. Have you seen her?”

His lips crimp as he scans the crowd. “She wouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” I hold my breath, frozen solid in anticipation.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

A moment of silence bounces by.

Everett clears his throat. “Where can we find her?”