“The scent was fresh,” Loch added. “It was clearly Frank that defaced the reception hall. That’s equivalent to a declaration of war, Quincy. I strongly suspect that Frank was the one who poisoned several flower beds on the property as well, because I asked around, and he was seen lurking near the Calloway’s truck on that day. It would have been very easy for him to put weed killer on those beds.”
Loch stared at Quincy, and Quincy stared back only briefly before dropping his gaze. Twenty years ago, Quincy might have accepted Loch’s challenge. Now, Quincy was fifty years old, and time and luxurious living had not been kind to him. Soon, he’d have to step aside to let someone else in his family take over as Alpha, or face a Death Challenge for his position as pack leader.
“My family and I will, without admitting guilt, pay for any damage as a gesture of good will and as a desire to indicate our good wishes to you and your bride,” Quincy said.
“Frank is no longer invited to the wedding, and must leave town immediately. And if I catch another member of your family vandalizing my property—”
“You won’t,” Quincy said.
Aurora looked Loch straight in the eye. “I still believe that these incidents are part of the Cypress Woods Witch’s prophecy,” she told Loch. “I do not believe my nephew had anything to do with the vandalism.” In many ways, she was braver than her brother, although she also knew that Loch wouldn’t issue a Death Challenge to a female unless she directly physically assaulted him or someone under his protection.
Cornelia shot Loch a murderous look, and grabbed Quincy by the arm. “Quincy, please let me tell him,” she pleaded.
Quincy shot her a look that froze her words on her lips. She stared down at the ground. “Sorry,” she mumbled.
Now, what was all that about? Tate wondered. Despite the fact that Cornelia was a snob and a bully whenever she could get away with it, he pitied her. She was bullied, in turn, by members of the Sinclair family. Her husband had died in a Challenge a few years earlier, and her brother-in-law and sister-in-law were notorious for insulting her and belittling her in public.
“We’re done here,” Quincy said, and he turned to walk out. Aurora and Cornelia followed him. As they walked out, Cornelia shot a quick, miserable glance at Loch, and then followed her relatives with her shoulders hunched and her fists clenched.
“I never thought I’d say this, but I actually feel sorry for the woman right now,” Tate said, shaking his head. “It seems as if she’s in some kind of trouble, but her brother won’t let her ask for help. She wouldn’t be able to ask for help from the police in their own county, because the Sinclairs pretty much own that county.”
“If she needs help, she could come to me, despite my bad blood with her family, and I’m sure she knows it,” Loch said.
“Yeah, but she’d risk being kicked out of her pack if she did that. By the way, do you think it’s odd that Portia has pretty much vanished from these parts, when she was constantly calling you and harassing you until recently?” Tate asked.
“I threatened her with a restraining order, and I made sure her uncle knew about it. The Sinclairs are very conscious of their public image. They probably sent her on some nice European cruise until the wedding is over,” Loch said.
Tate shrugged. He wasn’t going to knock himself out worrying about the Sinclairs. “Well, I’m going to round up the family, head back out and get to planting. Any news on the tiara?”
“Not a peep, unfortunately.” Loch sighed.
“Hey, buck up. You’re marrying Ginger.”
A smile spread across Loch’s face. “I am, aren’t I? I’m a lucky son of a bitch. All of this petty crap is meaningless. I’m marrying the woman I love.”
Tate saluted him and walked out of the office, trying without success to push thoughts of Kat from his mind.
Maybe when he was done working today he’d try again. Head out to the boarding house and plead his case with her, try to make her see reason. He knew she had feelings for him too. Why was she holding back? What was she hiding?
*
“I know it’s only nine o’clock, but maybe you should start drinking,” Marigold said, watching Lainey with concern as she listlessly stirred her coffee without bothering to take a sip. They were at the Henhouse. She’d dragged Lainey into town because they’d forgotten to buy earrings to go with her wedding outfit.
“I’m fine,” Lainey said, pushing her scrambled eggs around on her plate.
“Fine? You’re totally off your feed. This is not like you,” Marigold protested.
“Eh, food. Who needs it?”
“Seriously, I think I’m going to call 911,” Marigold said.
“Okay. Have fun.” Lainey stared out the window into the distance, looking at nothing.
“I am going to have you taken away and put in a rubber room,” Marigold continued. “They’re going to feed you gruel and shave your head. They’ll probably paint daisies on your bald scalp.”
“That sounds nice,” Lainey said idly, pushing her plate away.
“Are you even listening to me?” Marigold asked, exasperated.
“What?” Lainey said, frowning. She stifled a sigh, finally looking at Marigold. “Sorry, I’m a little distracted.”