“For sure. But so am I. The gold is the one I misplaced earlier.” He pointed to a spot close to Tony’s feet, where a small brown bag Jane had sewn only days ago now featured brand new bloodstains.
She took a handful of additional photos and returned the phone to Beau. “Text me those images right away. And don’t worry. Team Truth will figure this out.” Fiona and Beau weren’t guilty. But someone was.
Conrad ended his call, heaved a weary sigh, then joined the group. Drawn like a magnet to metal, Jane eased into him. He welcomed her nearness, slinging an arm around her waist once again.
“My men are here,” Sheriff Moore announced, ending a call of his own. “Holden is helping them usher the participants into the tent. Soon as that’s done, they’ll take statements.”
“I’ll need a list of guests,” Conrad told Jane before casting a grim look at Fiona. “And a detailed account of your whereabouts once you left the welcome tent.”
Uh oh. Did Conrad think the darling grandmother was capable of murder? Because that would be an immediate relationship ender.
Fiona closed her fingers in the sheriff’s shirt, clinging to him. “I’m happy to explain my whereabouts…after I speak with my lawyer. Which I’ll do right away. Just as soon as I hire him.” She looked to the sheriff, who nodded encouragingly. Had he told her what to say? “There’s one here at the party. I’ll find him in the crowd.”
Ugh. How had things dovetailed so quickly?
“As for you.” The special agent gave Jane a little squeeze. “Sheriff Moore will escort you, Fiona and Beau to the tent. Since you’re going to take more photos with or without my permission, be sure to get me candid shots of the guests, without being as obvious as you were with Mr. Miller.”
Did the special agent miss nothing?
Jane saluted him. “Don’t worry, everyone,” she said, only then realizing she, too, clutched a man’s shirt. “Everything’s gonna be all right. I’m on the case.”
The night seemed to last both an eternity and a blip. GBH agents arrived by the droves, tromping through Jane’s immaculate cemetery for the third time in four months, treating the shrubbery as if it had committed the murder. Did no one mind their manners anymore?
“This is the best murder mystery party ever!” someone called.
Others laughingly agreed.
Jane made her way through the tent, secretly photographing everyone as requested. The Berdize sisters noticed and posed, giving her a thumbs up. No doubt their company would be mentioned in every upcoming news report, tweet and post. They’d be hailed as the most authentic party planners in history. New commissions would roll in.
“This is serious business, people, not a game,” a woman exclaimed. Agent Karen Hightower, Jane’s least favorite investigator of all time. During the last case, the no-nonsense dictator with an inverted bob had hoped to lock her in prison and throw away the key. “Someone died.”
Several people bowed their head in shame, including the Berdize sisters. Others acted as if the agent participated in the game and saluted her.
At the moment, Hightower was questioning Beau, Fiona, and Fiona’s attorney—an older gent who reminded Jane of Al Capone. The foursome had been in conversation for over an hour. Her gut shouted, That can’t be good.
Had she mentioned the agent was her least favorite investigator ever?
Finally, the group broke apart. Beau approached Jane, his expression grim. Fiona followed him with tight lips and a brave face.
“We’ve been cleared to leave while the authorities finish up.” Beau massaged the back of his neck. “Let’s head to your cottage.”
Jane scanned the crowd, hoping to catch a final glance of Conrad. He’d come in and out of the tent multiple times. No sign of him. Disappointment surged.
With a bump of his shoulder, Beau nudged her toward the exit. “Last time your Agent Spice was here, he asked me to make sure you got home safely.”
Well. Warmth filled her chest, drowning the disappointment. Again and again that man showed how much he cared for her. It made her all fluttery and—Whoa! What are you doing? Taunting the curse? “Thank you. I’m grateful for your escort.”
They trudged through the grounds in silence, each lost in thought. On the cottage porch, Beau paused long enough to speak in hushed whispers with his friends, who were there waiting. The trio nodded at her before stalking to their vehicles, their booted feet crunching on gravel.
“Are Holden, Trick and Isaac coming back?” Jane asked.
“No,” Beau replied. “They’ll study the Garden’s security feed while the feds organize a warrant.”
Ugh. Did she hold the record for the most warrants issued in the shortest amount of time?
“Good plan. This is the perfect time to compare notes and figure out what I’m going to tell my kids,” Fiona said, her strain obvious. “If I’m telling them anything, that is. I don’t want my precious grandbabies thinking Nana FeeFee is a criminal. Oh! Where are my manners? Is anyone hungry? Why don’t I make us a light midnight snack?” She bolted to the kitchen the moment they got inside.
The precious woman puttered around, whipping up waffle BLTs and fried cheese stuffed Doritos. Jane joined Beau at the counter, perched atop a barstool, and watched. Fiona had been part of her life since, well, always. So much so, the grandmother seemed to be one with the décor. From the harvest gold appliances and dark wood paneling to Grandma Lily’s love of decoupaging with mushrooms.
“Tell us everything that happened and leave nothing out,” Jane said as Rolex jumped into her lap. She kissed his handsome face and scratched behind his adorable ears. He hissed at Beau.
In front of the stove, Fiona poured batter into a waffle iron. “I’m happy to start. Just as soon as Beau tells us where he was all night.”
The vet slinked in his seat, earning another hiss from Rolex. Plus a swipe of the claws.
Jane gave her baby another kiss and cooed her praise. “Such a good guard cat.”
For a split second, her friend looked ready to smile. And oh, wow, he was gorgeous when he almost smiled. And when he actually smiled. And even when he didn’t. He had tons of muscles, wavy blond hair, and green eyes. Although, those eyes tended to veer toward somber most times, the seriousness of his gaze reminding Jane of his past trials. Having returned from several tours of duty overseas, Beau dealt with his fair share of mental horrors. At least, she assumed. He hadn’t shared much.
“And you,” she told her friend, patting his hand. “Such a dapper gentleman.” He still wore the roaring twenties costume Jane selected for him. A glorious ensemble, complete with red and white striped jacket, a satin bow tie, and a braided straw boater hat with a red-ribboned band. Was it a little too tight? Yes. But that only made it better.
He wrinkled his nose at her. “The highlight of my day will be tearing off this eyesore.”
“Well, I never.” Jane’s back straightened with mock affront. “I’ll have you know that outfit was chosen with care. A way to help you stand out.”
“I look like I should be singing a four-part harmony in a barbershop quartet.”
Fiona smothered a laugh. Good. Considering the heaviness of the evening, a touch of levity was good for everyone.