By the time I walked into To Have and to Cuddle, which was a few storefronts down from Potions in the Ring, my nerves were frazzled.
The more Virgil faded, the more agitated Louella became.
She growled and snapped at every person we passed, and I was entertaining serious notions of taking her back to Doc Gabriel.
Then I felt guilty for thinking such things and added another toy to the basket looped on my arm as penance.
I followed Virgil down each and every aisle while he pointed out what I should buy for the menacing little dog.
I wished I’d grabbed a buggy instead of a basket. My arm ached.
But only my arm.
As Virgil disappeared, the pain I associated with him faded as well.
Jenny Jane was all smiles as she floated nearby, excited to see her daughter and grandchild soon. I had to admit, I was looking forward to it, too. Such a simple desire. To see a family line continued, and to perhaps see a little of yourself in the baby. Would the child have Jenny Jane’s sweet smile? Her compassionate eyes?
Had Haywood felt the same way when he learned about Avery?
I hadn’t seen him since he led me to the hatch yesterday afternoon in Rupert’s study, and I hoped he would show up again soon.
I was going to have to find time to go see Avery. She might be able to shed a little more light on the blackmail letters and her father’s state of mind in general. I hoped she knew something, anything, that would explain why he had been killed.
Because right now I was at a loss.
No one seemed to have known that Haywood was heir to the Ezekiel mansion, and other than Doug, no one had a theory about who the blackmailer might be.
I still had to talk to Patricia, but I had the feeling she’d tell me the same as the others, if she talked to me at all.
Virgil pointed to the most expensive doggy bed on the shelf, and I dutifully tucked it under my arm and followed as he drifted down the next aisle. Louella followed, too, racing after him as though afraid to let him out of her sight.
I kept thinking on what Hyacinth had told me.
Doug Ramelle is out of his pea-pickin’ mind for even suggesting Haywood is the blackmailer. Doug’s jumping at straws, looking for a scapegoat.
Doug seemed to be the ringleader of the Haywood-is-the-blackmailer circus. Which made me wonder if he planted the suspicion on purpose. What if Mayor Ramelle’s gambling had drained their bank accounts? Or the town’s accounts? Or the Harpies’? Would she and Doug be desperate enough to blackmail their friends to fill them back up again before anyone was the wiser?
My skin tingled, and I had the feeling I was onto something with this theory.
I needed to ask Dylan if the sheriff had looked into the finances of the Harpies. If Doug was behind the blackmail, it would be easy enough to spot in his financial records.
When I turned the corner of the next aisle, I nearly bumped straight into Idella Deboe Kirby, who was loading a case of dog food into her buggy.
She groaned when she saw me.
I didn’t take it personally.
Much.
“You’ve had quite the couple of days,” she said, looking at me down the bridge of her nose. She eyed Louella with contempt. Tsk.
“The usual,” I said, playing it off. I didn’t have the energy to deal with her right now.
Clasping her hands, her gemstone rings clinked together as she said, “Let me give you some advice, Carly.”
This was bound to take a while, so I set the heavy basket down on the floor. “Oh, please do.”
My sarcasm didn’t deter her.
“Stop nosing into what’s going on.” Tsk. “Let it be. Get on with your life. None of this concerns you.”
That tsk was getting on my last nerve. “I think it does after someone tried to kill me yesterday. Don’t you want to know who killed Haywood?”
Tucking a strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear, she added, “At what cost, Carly? Finding his killer is not worth risking your life. The fire at the mansion should have proven that to you.”
“Do you know who killed him?” I asked flat out, resisting the urge to tsk right back at her.
“If I did, I’d say so.”
She was telling the truth.
Her thin eyebrows dropped low and there was a catch in her throat as she said, “Haywood was a good man, and I’m sorry he’s gone, but he’s gone. The blackmail has stopped. Let it go. Despite my better judgment, I like you. I don’t want to see you hurt.” Tsk.
For a backhanded compliment, I was touched. “I appreciate that, but what about Patricia?” I asked. “She’s staring at a murder charge. Don’t you want her name cleared? Unless you think she did it?”
Spinning her buggy wide, she let out a world-weary sigh. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”
I felt as though her advice came from her cold heart, but she didn’t understand why I couldn’t give up.
Haywood.