40 #2
The press scrutiny had been overwhelming in the beginning, especially once Raquel’s past came to light.
Mandy had to assign her officers round-the-clock shifts to patrol the property.
No trespassing signs and cease-and-desist orders apparently didn’t apply to true crime bloggers let alone overly zealous…
fans? Groupies? Nut jobs? How did one categorize people who overidentified with the crime scene, the victims, and even Raquel herself?
World got weirder all the time.
“New crisis management firm is meriting their retainer,” Theo supplied. “And Mr. Man is earning his kibble.”
“Filet mignon,” Raquel clarified.
“Whatever.”
Mandy nodded. Waited patiently.
“I’m not going to do the book,” Raquel stated abruptly.
Another nod.
“I could. Tell-alls being all the rage, let alone true crime documentaries. Like the writer said, it would be an opportunity to honor my brother and sister, all my brothers and sisters. But no way to tell their story that doesn’t also bring my mom back from the dead.
I have no interest in doing that. It’s time for the past to be the past.”
“I can think of an entire town who will agree with you on that one,” Mandy observed.
Raquel and Theo exchanged glances. Theo did the honors: “Have you heard from him?”
No need to define who. William Dixon, aka Detective Samuel Adams. He’d gotten the hell out of Dodge the second the news broke, making a requisite appearance at Major Crimes long enough to tell them what he knew, which was pretty much nothing, then taking an immediate leave of absence.
“It’s a lot to process.” Mandy’s standard line on the subject.
“We offered to let him stay for a bit if he’d like. In case…well, in case it might be helpful.”
“The rest of the extended Dixon clan are going to come in the spring,” Theo spoke up. “They’re thinking of spreading the ashes near the fishing pond. Apparently, that was one of the family’s favorite spots.”
“Maybe by then, it’ll be good timing for William as well.” Mandy regarded the two of them. “And you? Gonna stick around or return to Boston?”
Theo and Raquel exchanged glances.
“In case you haven’t noticed, we got a lotta remodeling left to do.” Theo.
“Plus, a Boston condo isn’t a great place to raise a dog.” Raquel patted the slumbering pooch’s head.
“Not to mention this is a solid hundred miles away from my parents.”
“I swear he reached that conclusion all on his own.”
Theo grinned at his wife. Raquel smiled in return.
On that note, Mandy rose to standing. “Need anything, you know where to find me.”
Theo followed her out. On the front porch, he paused. “So that’s that? All of this, it’s officially over?”
“Almost,” Mandy said, then headed for her next stop.
Isla McLean’s ramshackle cabin was as tiny and overheated as Mandy remembered.
The woman greeted her with a single nod, then retired immediately to her chair, piling on her collection of moth-eaten tartans while Mandy stood awkwardly in place.
Lovey III thumped her tail in greeting. Mandy gave the old dog a pat, then placed a treat within easy reach.
Who knew dog cookies would become her department’s fastest growing expense.
Isla looked tired these days, less an ageless witch, more an exhausted mere mortal.
She’d had a rough few weeks and still faced multiple criminal charges related to concealing the murders, tampering with evidence, et cetera.
Given the woman’s age and extenuating circumstances, the various jurisdictions involved didn’t seem eager to prosecute, especially as they currently had Mason Carhart and Austin Dekes as trophies.
Mandy didn’t know if this conversation would help or hurt with Isla’s current situation. Mandy spun her hat in her hands.
“How’s the supply of firewood?”
“Good.”
“Got the basket of teas, I see. And Lydia’s cookies?”
“Just say what you’re going to say. Beating around the bush doesn’t change the space-time continuum, regardless of what you think.”
Mandy had to smile. “As pleasant as always.”
Isla shrugged, regarding her intently.
“You know what pisses off Mason the most?”
“Getting caught?”
“Not finding the damn treasure. The infamous Continental currency he’s convinced still exists.”
Isla remained silent.
“I got to thinking, he’s not the only one around who knew that legend—”
“Plenty of townsfolk know the story.”
“You know it. You mentioned it yourself. But it wasn’t part of Rita Light’s diary.”
Isla shrugged.
“McLeans,” Mandy stated. “Even back then, the town thieves. Seems to me, commandeering a shipment of currency would be right up their alley. Say sneaking up to a military convoy in the middle of the night, grabbing the goods, and running.”
“They probably took a horse or two as well. And any whiskey they could get their hands on.”