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  The dancing ellipses light up once again. We’ll make something up! Tell them you followed a mouse in there.

  Yes, that makes a lot of sense. Almost about as much sense as following a cat in here.

  Never mind. I text back. Go ahead and go home. I think I know who I need to call, and it won’t be fun.

  After trying to persuade her to head back to Cider Cove, Emmie decides to stick around until my white knight shows up—her exact words. Unfortunately, my white knight wields a pair of handcuffs and is legally obligated to use them.

  I send Jasper a quick text explaining, rather vaguely, how I got locked in Jackson Wellington’s coat closet and ask him kindly if he’d bust me out without landing me in the pokey.

  The sound of an eighties’ love ballad blasts through the air and it takes me a five full seconds—and about ten heart attacks—to realize it’s my phone ringing before I answer it.

  “Bizzy, what in the heck is happening?” Jasper hisses it out like one long word.

  “I can’t talk,” I whisper. “Are you going to help or not?”

  “Don’t move a muscle. I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  “Perfect,” I pant as my whole body pulsates with fear like a heartbeat. “And Jasper? I love you.”

  The sound of silence on the other end of the line is deafening. In hindsight, this probably wasn’t the best time to throw out the heartfelt proclamation. Now that I think about it, he might just think I’m buttering him up in the event he was moved to slap me with those state-issued silver bracelets of his. We had just exchanged those three little magical words on Christmas Eve for the very first time, and this probably seems like an off time to reiterate my feelings for him.

  “Bizzy”—he says my name soft, a bit mournful perhaps—“I love you, too.”

  My heart does its best to detonate right out of my chest, and if he said anything else, I didn’t hear it over the sound of my panting.

  Jasper insists I don’t hang up and I can hear him spatially running out of the building and making his way to his car.

  The luminescent glow of the flashlight on my phone doesn’t even begin to take the edge off the fact I’m stuck in a three-by-four prison cell, so I force myself to find a distraction. I turn around and point the phone at the filing cabinet and glide the top drawer open. Nothing but a few folders tossed inside. Nobody has paper files anymore. The whole world has gone digital. God forbid every electric grid on the planet blips out due to some errant solar flare. We’ll lose all records of civilization as we know it.

  I glide the middle drawer open. Just a few boxes of software that boasts the company’s name on it. And I can’t help but note those look outdated as well. Nothing of real value in here that I can see. Then why lock up the closet? A thought occurs to me. He probably has a weapons cache in here and the whole thing is liable to accidently detonate at any moment. The idea makes me shudder, and when I do, I dislodge a file in the drawer, forcing it to jump as if it were trying to get my attention.

  A breath hitches in my throat as I read the name written across it.

  “Siena.”

  “What’s that?” Jasper rasps over the speaker.

  “Nothing,” I whisper as I pull the file out.

  “Just pulled into the lot. I’m running into the building now.”

  The sound of footfalls hastening fills the air.

  I open the file and flash the phone over it. It’s just a few pages. It looks like a spreadsheet of some kind. A list of utility bills and expenses? I shake my head, trying to make heads or tails out of it.

  The sound of the lock jiggling startles me to life, and I quickly take the first page out and replace the file before slamming the drawer shut.

  “Jasper?” I jam the paper into my purse along with my phone.

  “It’s me,” I can hear him whisper.

  My entire body spikes with heat as the door gently glides open and Jasper pulls me close, landing a pressured kiss over my lips.

  He pulls back and gives a crooked grin as he bears those silver eyes to mine.

  “I love you, Bizzy Baker.” He gives a slight nod. “I want everything with you. But you have a way of scaring the hell out of me like nobody’s business.”

  My mouth falls open with a smile. “I love you, too, Jasper. And I want everything with you.” I steal a moment to run my fingers over the scruff on his cheek. “How’d you unlock the door?”

  “I picked the lock.”

  I gasp with delight. “Is it wrong that I find that an incredible turn-on?”

  “Is it wrong that I’m suddenly moved to pick every lock in town?” His brows hike as if he was amused. “Now let’s get out of here before we both get arrested.”

  Jasper speeds us out of the office and toward the stairwell in the back. We don’t ease our quickened pace until we’re standing outside of the building where the rain pummels us from above.

  We pause in the driving rain, and I laugh with my hands held skyward as we’re doused in an instant.

  This woman—Jasper winces my way—Bizzy Baker is the beginning and the end of me. I meant what I said. I want everything with her. And she said she wants everything with me. I couldn’t be happier.

  “Come here,” he says as he pulls me close. “I have something for you!” he shouts up over the storm bearing down on us.

  “If it’s a pair of silver bracelets, I think I’ll pass!” I shout right back.

  “I was thinking something a little more straight to the point.”

  Jasper Wilder kisses me senseless in the driving rain and I pull him close as if he were the only thing to stop me from floating away.

  He pulls back with a sly grin. “I love you, Bizzy Baker,” he howls over the drumming around us before warming me with his lips again.

  Jasper loves me. That’s all that really matters.

  Although, justice for Siena’s death matters, too.

  Jackson’s note comes to mind and I tuck my purse under my coat to protect it.

  Jackson tried to warn Siena about her business sense, and according to him, she didn’t take it so well.

  Just what could have been so wrong? What was the can of worms he didn’t want to open up for Siena?

  And most of all, what had them both rabid enough to kill?

  Chapter 10

  Jasper drives us straight back to Cider Cove—with the exception of a quick pit stop to pick up a takeout order from the Dragon Express. Emmie left right along with us and I told her to take my car to her cottage. Her cottage is just up the way from me, and I can pick it up sometime tomorrow. That’s the nice part about working at the inn and living on the grounds—all the money I save on gas because I don’t have to drive to work.

  Jasper and I each make a run for our own cottages, shower, and change into dry clothes before congregating right here in my living room with Fish and Sherlock as we indulge in more Kung Pao chicken than should ever be legal. And in between the spicy bites I tell him everything I overheard in that office today, including the things that weren’t said out loud—but Jasper doesn’t need to know that.

  He shakes his head, his gaze pinned to the corner of the ceiling as if he were trying to process it all.

  “I can’t believe he said all that.” He shakes his head. “It’s pretty incriminating. It’s safe to say, Jackson Wellington just corked up to the top of the suspect list.”

  “Any news from the coroner? Does he think she could have been pushed?”

  “Based on the trajectory of the way she fell, it could never be clear.” He lifts his chopsticks a notch. “But—he found a microscopic human tissue sample under her fingernails that didn’t belong to her.”

  “You mean she scratched the killer?” I ask, breathless at the thought.

  “Maybe. Or it could have been an exchange from earlier in the night.”

  “All we have to do is get matching samples, right?” I ask with a little too much enthusiasm. “And don’t forget about the ring in her hair. That was odd.
Winnie said she took it off, but maybe it was taken off for her. Heck, my dress almost took it off, or should I say, it almost took off my dress.”

  A sly grin slides up one side of his cheek.

  Fish bleats a tiny meow. I think you’ve pleased him, Bizzy. I’d watch my dress if I were you.

  Sherlock emits a somewhat friendly growl. She’s not wearing a dress. Besides, my Jasper is a perfect gentleman.

  Fish makes a chortling sound. I see that look in his eyes, Sherlock. Your Jasper is something just this side of a hunter, and my Bizzy is his prey. She tips her head toward me. Anytime you need me to claw his eyes out, just give me a signal.

  Sherlock lets out a harsh bark her way, sending the two of them into a wrestling match of the ages—and no amount of reprimanding from Jasper or me seems to slow them down.

  “They’ll be fine,” I say, curling up in Jasper’s lap as he draws me closer. “They really do like each other.”

  “I think the word tolerate might still be in play.”

  “I think you’re right.” My lips expand with a satiated smile as I give the stubble on his cheeks a scratch. “So what else is keeping you busy down at the precinct?”

  “Since Siena’s case isn’t officially listed as a homicide, I’m still helping out with the crime ring.”

  “Oh, that’s right. Tell me about it.”

  He grimaces a moment. “Not if it means I’ll find you locked in a closet in a suspect’s office.”

  “I swear I will stay away from all cloistered spaces.” I bat my lashes up at him. “But you have to admit, some pretty hot kisses came of it—inclement weather be damned. If I bust that crime ring for you, who knows where things might lead?” I bite down on a smile before realizing I just implied another big leap in our relationship. Ugh. He’s going to think I’m hungry to get married. Or worse yet, desperate. I might be hungry, but I’m not desperate, am I?

  There’s a warmth in his eyes as he examines me.

  Is Bizzy talking marriage?

  My mouth opens and it takes everything in me not to shake my head, refuting the accusation. Not that he’s totally off-base. I can definitely see marriage with Jasper. And, if I’m being truthful, I wouldn’t mind it sooner than later.

  I’ve thought of it—probably a bit too much lately. His lips twist. The truth is, I couldn’t imagine my life without her in it. Bizzy is the best thing that’s happened to me, and I don’t want to let her down in any capacity.

  His heart thumps wildly against me.

  “Know this”—he says as his eyes search my features with a tenderness in them—“I promise you, Bizzy, we’re not missing a beat. Be warned. I won’t be dragging my feet.”

  A small laugh trembles from me. “Well then. It sounds as if we have a lot to look forward to.” Like a proposal. I cinch my arms around him. “Now about that crime ring—which crime, exactly, are we talking about? Larceny? Grand theft? A bank heist? Extortion?”

  “You have quite the active imagination, and a good pulse on the criminal mind.” He takes a breath. “We’re talking antique jewelry taken from a variety of sources. It’s odd. The more reports we get, the more curious it becomes. They’re not just stealing from antique shops and reputable vendors. We’ve had homes burglarized and instances of pickpocketing. In fact, we had two complaints filed from that night at the Chadwick mansion.”

  “The night of the murder?”

  His brows bounce as he nods, and I can’t help but get momentarily distracted by how cuttingly handsome he is.

  A thought comes to me. “Jasper, the other night at the casino, Mariah was seated with a shady-looking man in a tan suit. He handed her something and she shoved it into her purse. Fast-forward to twenty minutes later, the contents of her purse scattered all over the floor. I helped her scoop up a gorgeous vintage necklace. It was deep blue with scalloped filigree edges. She said a friend gave it to her. I think she mentioned the necklace was an heirloom.”

  “I’ll have to look into that.”

  “If you go back to that casino, I’m coming with you,” I say and it comes out more of a threat than an offer.

  “You bet you are. I demand a rematch at the blackjack table. If you beat everyone at that table again, I motion we head to Vegas.”

  “Vegas doesn’t bring out the best in me.” I’ve told Jasper all about my accidentally drunk marriage to Emmie’s brother, Jordy. Our unholy union may have lasted mere hours, but it managed to frighten me from both that sin city filled with glittery lights and bad Elvis impersonators who wield the power of holy matrimony.

  Jasper’s chest rumbles with a dark laugh.

  “Bizzy Baker, you bring out the best in me. And I don’t think there’s a place on earth you wouldn’t.” He lands a kiss to my lips as if to affirm the fact.

  Jasper showers me with his fierce affection for the rest of the night, and every single kiss is deliriously delicious.

  But in the back of my mind, the Chadwick mansion stands like a hunted relic of an era gone by.

  A murder, a couple of thefts. Perhaps that old place really is cursed?

  But I’m not buying the fact Siena Thompson merely fell from the second floor balcony.

  There was a struggle.

  Somebody pushed her.

  And it was most certainly murder.

  Chapter 11

  Another storm is pushing through Cider Cove, a brutal beat-down with violent winds and sideways rain.

  Grady, Nessa, and I have been tending to an uptick in guests filling all of the rooms at the inn at record speeds when Georgie stumbles through the door wrestling with an umbrella. There’s a man behind her about my father’s age, full head of hair, deep laugh lines embedded into his face, and there’s an overall friendly appeal to him.

  “Bizzy Baker”—Georgie hustles him in this direction—“this is Elvis Hendrix.” She presents the younger man like a prize. “Isn’t he fabulous?”

  “Elvis Hendrix?” I parrot back in disbelief as both Fish and Sherlock circle him while sniffing at his jeans. He’s got on a leather jacket and electric blue boots, and his hair is long enough to reach his shoulders in the back. “Georgie, I think we need to talk about that Dependable app you’re addicted to.”

  “I agree.” She reaches down and picks up Fish. “And that’s why we need to see the ballroom. I’m thinking it’s the perfect place for what this guy has cooking.”

  “Oh no. Not in my ballroom.” For all I know, Elvis Hendrix has fleas or something far worse than that and a lot harder to get rid of. In fact, I’m pretty sure whatever it is he’s cooking is considered illegal in all fifty states.

  The man belts out a laugh. “Nice to meet you, Bizzy.” He offers his hand, and I shake it. “I’m the owner of the Dependable app. And from time to time, I like to get to know the end users.”

  “End users?” I’m only mildly amused at the not-so-adorable nickname he has for Georgie. “How can I help you, Elvis?” Considering the fact I was married by someone who pretended to share the same moniker, I guess you can say I don’t have the best track record with the King myself.

  Georgie lifts a finger. “It’s my idea, Bizzy. And you just can’t say no.” She gives his chin a squeeze. “Who could refuse this cute little face? And he’s already brought so much happiness to so many people.”

  Sherlock brushes a paw to my thigh. Why is Georgie attacking this man?

  I shrug down over at the intuitive pooch. But if Elvis makes one wrong move, I’ll be moved to attack him myself.

  Elvis nods. “Three marriages, six living arrangements, and a rectangular domicile union.”

  I don’t dare ask.

  “Any deaths?” I tease as Fish lets out a yodeling laugh.

  I just love the way that cat gets me.

  “No deaths.” Elvis squints as he smiles, and a part of me can’t help but like him.

  Fish twitches her ear. No deaths, yet. Just you wait, Bizzy. I’d better accompany them to the ballroom in the event he decides to rack up a bo
dy count, starting with my favorite walking kaftan.

  “Good thinking,” I whisper and Elvis nods as if I had said the words to him. “So what’s with the ballroom?” If either of them utters the words tantric, yoga, or rectangular domicile union, it’s a hard no.

  “Speed dating!” Georgie belts it out as if it were a present she couldn’t wait for me to unwrap.

  Elvis chuckles. “It’s a little bit more of a singles mingle. I’m calling it a blind date with Cupid. My company is having a special event next month for Valentine’s Day, and Georgie mentioned the ballroom here at the inn would be big enough to accommodate it. Of course, I’d be more than happy to rent the facility. I’m not looking for a freebie.”

  Good thing. Fish meows as she hops out of Georgie’s arms. I wouldn’t let you give it to him, Bizzy.

  Sherlock sighs. You’re an awfully bossy furball. He takes a playful swipe at Fish and the two of them are off for a playful game of hide-and-seek.

  I nod over to Elvis. “We’re available all of February. Just let me know when and we’ll book it.”

  Georgie whisks him off toward the ballroom before I can change my mind.

  A singles mingle? I’m not sure why, but it sounds like a very fun disaster.

  I’m so glad I’m not in the dating pool anymore. I’ll have to show Jasper just how thankful I am later tonight.

  Before my cheeks can heat, the doors swoop open and in strides a familiar face from that night at the Chadwick mansion, Lucy Miller, the attractive older woman with a tight smile and sparking blue eyes. Her arms are filled with two clear plastic tubs, and from what I can tell, they’re filled to the brim with colorful items. Striding in right behind her is Jordy, hauling two more giant plastic tubs in his arms.

  “Hello, Bizzy!” she calls out as she lands the tubs at the base of the counter. “I’m not sure if you remember me, but we met—”

  “That night at the Chadwick mansion. Of course, I remember you, Lucy. What’s inside all the bins? I’m anxious to take a peek.”