Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
No child but must remember laying his head in the grass,
staring into the infinitesimal forest and seeing it
grow populous with fairy armies.
~ Robert L. Stevenson, “Treasure Island”
THE HARRISON LIbrARY WAS A GREAT PLACE for people of all ages.
For kids, they had story time, craft time, baby time, and preschool yoga.
They even offered a drawing class for tweens.
The library’s motto was Busy minds are happy minds.
Though the place wasn’t huge, it had a terrific collection of books, e-books, audiobooks, and movies.
In addition, it featured the history of Carmel through photographs, letters, diaries, maps, and yearbooks.
Lissa Reade was in when I asked for her.
We met at a table in the Barnet Segal Reading Room of the library, an expansive, light-filled space fitted with a fireplace, tables, and easy chairs.
For the first half hour, after I explained my quest, we didn’t speak. She browsed the Internet on her laptop. Fiona danced along the edge of the table, humming a little ditty. Other patrons in the room didn’t seem to be disturbed by my fairy’s music, meaning only Lissa and I could hear her.
“Where’s Merryweather Rose of Song?” I asked Lissa when the quiet felt overwhelming. Merryweather was Fiona’s aunt and mentor.
“Around and about,” Lissa said.
Merryweather was a guardian fairy and dwelled in the library, devoted to inspiring patrons to learn.
“I’m right here,” the elderly fairy chimed, and landed atop the table. Unlike Fiona, her cheeks were plump and her wings sported matching polka dots.
Fiona popped to her feet. When she’d first arrived in the human world, her aunt had been a rigorous taskmaster. Now, Merryweather was delighted to be her tutor. She loved how bright Fiona had turned out to be. The two hugged warmly.
“Finally. Here we are.” Lissa tapped the screen. “Doreen Tillbury, also known as Reenie, was Daniel Tillbury’s sole child. She never married.”
I sighed. “I guess that answers my question. There are no other living descendants on Daniel’s side.”
“Now hold on.” Lissa patted my hand. “Don’t be in such a rush. I think your idea has merit, and I see Doreen was a traveler. Europe was her favorite destination. However, after the travel bug was sated, she settled down and became a baker.”
“A baker,” I said, “like her cousin Thessalonia. Here in Carmel?”
“No. In Chicago.”
“Whoa! Horace Elias just came back from a trip there. Coincidence?”
Lissa didn’t respond.
Fiona said, “She left town when she was a teenager. What if . . .” She paused.
“What if what?” I asked.
“I’m not hurling accusations,” Fiona said, “but what if she traveled so much because she was pregnant, and when she was ready to have the child, she decided to settle in Chicago?”
“Excellent deduction,” Merryweather said.
Lissa typed a command in the search bar and clicked Enter. “Well, well. Yes, I’ve found something. She put up a child for adoption—a girl named Daniella—the day the girl was born.”
“In Chicago?” I asked.
“Yes. Now let’s see what the adoption agency can share with us.” She continued to type.
After an hour, all she found out was Daniella was adopted by John Smith and his wife.
“John Smith? How generic can you get?” I groused.
Further exploration didn’t lead to any family connection to Horace Elias or Ferguson Moss or even Shara Popple. It was a dead end.
Frustrated, I returned to Open Your Imagination—Fiona flew off with her aunt—and I helped a few customers with their purchases.
One woman, my hygienist who had the most perfect teeth, requested a private lesson.
For her I would squeeze it in. We convened on the patio, and I taught her how to set up the story for her garden.
She’d chosen twin figurines because she, herself, had twin girls.
How she raised them and held such a demanding job was beyond me.
The twins loved to play hide and seek in the backyard, she divulged.
I advised her to select plants large enough for the fairy figurines to crouch behind, and we added environmental pieces similar to those in her own yard—a swing set, a slide, and koi pond.
When I was ringing her up, Yvanna rushed into the shop. She was still clad in her holiday outfit, but she’d removed her Sweet Treats apron.
She waited until the sale was complete before approaching the counter. “I’ve brought you the list of customers who bought cookies over the past week.”
I scanned it. All were names of my steady customers, none of whom would harm a flea.
I thanked her, and she left while inserting EarPods into her ears.
Realizing I’d meant to ask her about her sister who was now working at Aroma Wellness Spa, I raced after her.
She was climbing the stairs toward Dolores Street, her head bobbing right and left in rhythm to the music she was listening to.
I called out her name, but she didn’t turn around.
I decided I’d reach out tomorrow and began to pivot, but I paused when I saw Idris locking up Sweet Treats and the word key sprang to mind.
Brady had asked me who could have stolen into Open Your Imagination without a key.
I recalled Shara saying she’d found keys when scouring the sand for collectibles at the beach.
Was it possible she’d landed upon a set for Cypress and Ivy Courtyard?
I eyed my watch. Nearly six. I called out to Joss saying I’d be right back, and then I dashed up the steps to the landlord’s office, which was located beyond Time Tinker.
Logan Langford was exiting, his back to me, a key inserted into the lock. He must have sensed me, because he turned and smiled. “Courtney, hello.”
Along with his new bicycling regimen, he’d changed his appearance.
His thinning hair was no longer salt-and-pepper.
He’d dyed it a soft brown. He’d even stopped wearing his daily go-to outfit of black T-shirts and black jeans, and was now dressed in a floral shirt and chinos. A regular guy on vacation.
“Hi,” I said. “Quick question. Are you missing any keys?”
He squinted. “Gee, I don’t think so.” He counted the keys on his loop. “I’ve got all twenty.” He owned a few other properties but preferred having his office in this courtyard.
“Do you store keys to our units in your office?”
“Duplicates? Yeah, sure.” His mouth turned down into a frown. “Aw, heck. I meant to reach out after the tragedy. I’m so sorry you had to . . .” He twirled a hand, not uttering that I’d encountered yet another dead body. “The police have questioned me.”
“About?”
“CCTV, which, like the rest of Carmel, we haven’t installed.” He sighed. “We used to think of our fair community as the safest in the world. Not so, any longer. You knew the victim?”
“We met briefly. Have you had a break-in?”
“Not that I know of.”
I glanced at Time Tinker as a notion surfaced. Could Horace have stolen into Logan’s office, borrowed a key, slipped into Open Your Imagination, dug the hole, killed Tianna, and returned the key without Logan knowing? If he could have, someone else could have, too. But who?
I thanked him and started to leave.
“Hold on.” He scratched his chin. “Come to think of it, I do recall the door was ajar when I returned from Sweet Treats the other day.”
“To purchase gingerbread cookies?”
“No. I was craving a donut. I checked out everything, though, and nothing was missing. Why do you ask?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Of course. The duplicates. You’re wondering if the killer took one. Nah, I’m pretty sure they’re all accounted for.”
Again I thanked him and headed to the shop while forming a picture in my mind of the killer. He or she was a planner. The culprit could’ve sneaked into Logan’s office, somehow made a copy of the duplicate key, and skipped out unseen.
I said hello to Joss as I entered Open Your Imagination. She was returning from the office, having stored the day’s receipts in the safe.
“Off to see my mother,” she announced. “Need anything else before I go?”
I wagged my head. “Tell her hello.”
“Like she’ll remember.” She offered a sad grin.
As I was collecting Pixie, Brady called and asked me to dinner at the café. He was taking the night off, but he didn’t want the new weekend manager at the restaurant entirely on her own.
“Yes. I’d love it. But I need to run home first and change.”
I was exhausted from work as well as from following all the clues.
He said he’d be waiting for me with bated breath.
Pixie wasn’t pleased I was going out, but she settled down after I fed her a salmon dinner—her favorite.
I dressed in a pair of dark blue slacks and soft white sweater, brushed my hair, and donned lip gloss.
I added a dash of sparkly blush for pizzazz.
Fiona winged in and inspected my face. “Glitter,” she said. “Like Tianna.”
Rattled, I wiped off the blush with a tissue, reassessed myself in the mirror, and headed out. Fiona accompanied me.
“Did you have a good time with your aunt?” I asked.
“We talked about me being on my best behavior.”
I regarded her with amusement. “Best behavior?”
“She said I must learn to control my antics if I’m ever to be queen.” Fiona stuck out her tongue.
“I imagine that response was unacceptable.”
Giggles rippled out of her. “Do you think I’m loco? No, I was more than compliant and said, ‘Absolutely, Auntie. Whatever you say.’”
When we arrived at the café, Idris Gentry and a handsome employee at Wizard of Paws, the pet-grooming salon opposite Open Your Imagination, were waiting in a line of six to be seated.
Idris had swirled her curls into a hair claw.
Loose tendrils graced her cheeks. Deep green eyeliner enhanced her eyelids.
The date appeared smitten with her. He tapped the corner of a rainbow-colored envelope peeking from the top of Idris’s purse and asked a question.
Her coy response sounded like, “For me to know,” and then she adjusted the strap of her gold purse.
The hostess bypassed those ahead of me and advised me to proceed to the back patio.
“Hi, Idris,” I said in passing.
“Hi, Courtney. Say hello to your fairy for me.”
She was teasing. She couldn’t see Fiona. Otherwise, she would have burst out laughing because Fiona was mimicking the same googly eyes her date was making.
I stepped onto the patio, and as always, seeing the trees twinkling with fairy lights brought a smile to my face. Brady, who looked as handsome as all get-out in linen shirt and tan trousers, rose from the table in the far corner and waved to me.
“Bye,” Fiona said, and disappeared into the ficus beside our table to play with Ulra.
I sauntered past a couple of tables and spotted Reddick dining with Meaghan.
She winked at me and gave me a thumbs up, meaning she’d received my text asking her to question him about his investigation.
As an assist, I’d sent him an earlier text sharing everything I’d learned so far, to show him I was a compliant citizen.
Brady pulled out my chair for me and kissed me on the cheek. “Hello, beautiful.”
“Ha. Liar. It’s been a long day.” I sat and took a sip of the wine he’d already ordered for us.
Fiona and Ulra emerged from the tree. Ulra sped to Brady and perched on his shoulder. He was oblivious.
The hostess escorted Idris and her date to a table. Idris made eye contact with me, and then laughed at something the young man said.
For the next half hour, Brady and I discussed what I’d learned at the recorder’s office and from Lissa Reade.
“I can’t derive any conclusions,” I said.
He placed a hand over mind. “You will.” He nodded toward Reddick. “You should tell him about the keys angle. If someone did take the duplicate to your shop, perhaps he or she didn’t risk returning it to the landlord’s office, and it’s still in their possession.”
“I did.”
“And?”
“Crickets.”