Double Trouble Page 3

  I spoke up. "But I read that Port Danby's claim to fame is a stately Victorian manor, the Hawkings estate or something like that. Terrible murder happened there, from the tidbits I caught in my reading."

  I'd obviously sparked Lacey's enthusiasm. She sat upright on her chair.

  "Oh boy, here we go," Lola muttered.

  Lacey waved off her comment. "It's the Hawksworth Manor and it's located just behind my house. It's a dilapidated old relic but cool, like one of those haunted houses you'd see in a movie. But the real story is behind the terrible tragedy that happened inside the house just over a hundred years ago." Her eyes glittered as she spoke animatedly. "The case was closed as a murder suicide. According to the official report, Bertram Hawksworth shot dead his wife and three children before turning the gun on himself. Only there are some things that don't add up."

  Now she had my undivided attention. This time it was my best buddy's turn to mutter 'here we go'. "So you think the police report is wrong?"

  "Photos of the murder scene show the gun in Bertram's right hand. Only some research into old newspaper archives helped me find a picture of Mr. Hawksworth before the tragedy. In one front page picture he was signing a document for a future shipyard, a project that never came to fruition." Lacey's voice dropped an octave to give a little weight to her next statement. "He was holding the pen in his left hand."

  I nearly slipped off the front of my chair. "A hundred-year-old unsolved murder? Now I'm envious. Are you unraveling the clues?"

  Lacey sat back, pleased that she had found someone to share the story with. "Little by little. I'll tell you about if we have time after the antique sale."

  I nodded. "Looking forward." I glanced around the table. "Well, girls, if we're done devouring the quiche, I suppose we should get to the flea market."

  Chapter 4

  The four of us had climbed into my jeep for the short drive through town. The flea market organizers had color coded each aisle of the event to keep people organized and shoppers moving forward. We headed down the first aisle of bright blue canopies. Vendors had their wares, some old, some new and some in-between, what Lola referred to as early vintage stuff, spread out on tables and tarps.

  Lola and I meandered through a maze of unmatched dining chairs. I ran my hands along the smooth, worn wood of a nice mahogany splat back chair with intricately carved details. The seat was soft brown leather. It was the only chair like it in the seller's collection. "I know it's popular to place different style chairs around tables right now," I said. "But I'm not sure I have the shopping skill, the patience or the vision to do it right."

  Lola nodded. "It also takes luck. Aside from the chairs having to go together in a pleasing, eclectic way, you have to find chairs that have similar heights. Otherwise, your diners will be sitting at different elevations and that won't work with a level table. You're probably better off finding several different but complete sets to make up your dining room. I'd keep with the same wood grain, but you could mix up the styles for a little touch of whimsy."

  "See, that is why I'm so glad we became friends. I don't know nearly enough about antique furniture to properly decorate an entire bed and breakfast."

  Lola could hardly contain her grin. "I'm glad to help and equally glad we became friends." She stopped at a cute, round porcelain enamel farm table. "These are super popular right now, but they fit better inside a farm kitchen than a Georgian formal dining room. Of course, you can also transform a dining room with the proper linens, even if the tables are lacking."

  "Good point. A little linen camouflage for covering up flaws in the furniture. I'll remember that trick."

  Raine joined us in the maze of dining furniture. She held up two pewter candlesticks that were adorned with ivy leaves. "Five bucks for the pair," she crowed.

  "Nice deal." I stepped backward and bumped into someone. "Excuse me," I said as I spun around.

  "No problem." The tall woman, possibly late forties, had her reddish brown hair clipped short and pushed back behind her ears. Even weighted down with a stack of cumbersome wicker baskets, she managed to keep a ramrod straight posture.

  An elderly woman, early seventies, stepped with a sort of shuffle around the woman and her unwieldy armful of baskets. "Grace, don't block the aisle," the older woman said sharply. Her thin, frizzy, pale like straw hair was pulled into a neat little bun at the back of her head. She was dressed primly in a pastel floral silk blouse with a matching bow tied at the neck. Her gray pleated skirt looked as if it had been bought at one of the finer department stores . . . fifty years earlier. She reached up to check that her short strand of pearls was still sitting safely on her neck.

  "People are trying to get through, Grace," she continued lecturing the woman with the baskets. "And watch how you're holding that bottom basket. I don't want it damaged." She glanced at one chair, then huffed. "I don't know why you led me here. I don't need any more furniture. Let's head back home. My knees are starting to bother me."

  The rather unpleasant woman shuffled out on gray orthopedic shoes. Grace toddled after her, trying to avoid losing her tower of baskets and, all the while, avoiding obstacles in her path.

  Raine came up next to me. "That's Etta Derricot. She lives in a massive Colonial on a private road in Hickory Flats. Her husband died two years ago, a heart attack right in the middle of church. He had some inherited fortune from his family's business, fine fabrics or something like that. If my husband left me a beautiful house and sizeable bank account, I don't think I'd be quite so grumpy."

  We had a good chuckle as we streamed back out into the main walking aisle between the canopies. "I think Lacey wandered ahead to look through the old books at the vintage book stand," Raine said.

  Lola got sidetracked by a vendor who had some interesting looking ceramic pots. She told us to go ahead and that she'd catch up. Raine and I met up with Lacey, who was flipping through what appeared to be a midcentury book on floral arrangements.

  She looked up and smiled as we reached her. "I've had a few clients ask for bridal bouquets that might have been popular back in the 1950s and 60s." She flipped to the back cover. "It's only fifty cents. Perfect."

  Raine and I browsed through the stacks while we waited for Lacey to pay for the book. I pulled out one that was titled Folk Magic and Herb Craft. "This looks like something you might be interested in." I handed it to Raine, who responded with an irritated brow lift.

  "I don't dabble in magic."

  I shrugged as I put it back on the stack. "Excuse me for trying to stretch your repertoire. You're the one who mentioned you wanted to go to the magic shop's closing sale." I stopped and blinked a few times. "I think I'm seeing double today, only the image has changed clothes." A woman who looked remarkably like the rich and snobbish Etta Derricot was standing under the neighboring canopy looking through some antique picture frames. She was short and stout like Etta with the same frizzy, straw colored hair, blue eyes and prominent cheekbones, only this version of Etta was wearing a flowy, jagged hemmed skirt. Her boho style cotton blouse had long trumpet sleeves, and instead of demure pearls, she had on a long silver chained necklace that ended with a turquoise, silver and black pentagram.

  Raine turned discretely around to find out what had me so baffled. She turned back around. "You're not seeing double. They're twins."

  "Who are twins?"

  "That cranky, prudish woman, Etta, the one you just saw in the furniture booth and that lady over there who looks as if she might be planning to travel back in time to the Woodstock festival. They are the Smithers sisters, identical twins, who grew up here in Firefly Junction. Etta married a rich man, but Minnie, her sister, didn't do quite as well."

  "Wait, did you say Minnie?" I asked. "So, she's the owner of—"

  "Minnie's Shop of Magick," Raine finished for me.

  "Magic shop?" Lacey asked as she reached us. "I'd love to visit a magic shop. As long as my nose can take the plethora of incense and candles."

  "You wil
l definitely smell a ton of fragrances in Minnie's shop," Raine said. I had only briefly mentioned Lacey's special sense of smell, but occasionally, Raine tuned things out if they didn't truly interest her.

  As we spoke, Minnie noticed the three of us congregated in the dusty book stacks. "Raine, hello, I didn't see you there." Her heavy pendant necklace swung back and forth as she waddled around the book tables to greet us. She definitely moved faster and smiled more than her twin sister. It was slightly ironic to see her in much brighter spirits since she was losing her business and her grumpy sister was living like a queen with her inherited wealth. Maybe Etta was generous with her sister. I certainly would be with mine if I had inherited a large fortune.

  Minnie reached us. "Raine, you must drop by the shop before all the jasmine and sandalwood are gone. I could save you a box of each, if you like. I'm heading back to the shop after I finish buying things I don't need. Like this picture frame." She held up a carved teakwood frame that had tiny green stones on the corners.

  "Could you? And some white sage and patchouli too, if you don't mind," Raine said. "I'll probably swing by later this afternoon."

  "Wonderful. By the way"—she smiled energetically at all of us—"We're having our annual Mabon Apple Harvest Rite tonight in the wilderness area behind the park. We always welcome visitors. It starts at eleven. Hope to see you there." With that, she shambled off on her sandals with her flouncy sleeves dancing at her sides.

  "Minnie is the high priestess of the local Wiccan group," Raine explained.

  "I saw some of her group members setting up for that ceremony," I chimed in. "Jax and I were eating lunch in the park. Looked like they were setting up for quite the autumn event, complete with pumpkins, gourds and garlands of flowers."

  We followed Raine out of the tables of books. "Yeah, their ceremonies can be pretty elaborate. They love to decorate and wear all the pretty headdresses and jewelry."

  Lola had caught up to us. She was carrying a glazed piece of cola brown pottery that resembled an old fashioned milk jug. It didn't look like much to me but judging by the grin working hard not to burst free on her face, she had found a treasure.

  Lacey stared down at the rather plain, crude looking pot in her hands. "Since you are wearing your completely transparent poker face smile, I assume that ugly thing in your hands is worth money."

  Lola motioned for us to move away from the stand where she'd just purchased the pot. As we rounded the corner, she stopped us and cheered "woo hoo!"

  "All right, let's hear about your woo hoo treasure," Lacey said.

  "I just paid twenty-five bucks—and, mind you, the seller was only asking ten, but I told her it was in such nice condition, it was worth more. She was, of course, a little stunned that I was bartering up instead of down, but I felt like I was stealing. According to the mark on the bottom, this is an authentic piece of Brown Brothers Pottery." Her proclamation didn't earn quite the expected oh my, how amazing response she was hoping for. In truth, we all just stood silently, with questioning expressions on our faces.

  "Speak in layman's terms, Lola," Lacey said. "What's it worth?"

  "Let's just say, this trip has already paid for itself. I'll probably put a price tag of three thousand dollars on it at the shop."

  This time she earned the astonished gasps she had anticipated.

  Raine put her hands under it. "Whatever you do, don't drop it."

  Lola cradled it in her arms. "I'll be carrying it just like this when we get on the airplane to go home. I'm not going to risk shipping it with one of those clumsy carriers."

  "I hope you don't mind if I write about your find in my newspaper article," I said. "I've got to post a story about the flea market, and I'm worried it's going to be as dull and dry as my hands after washing a sink full of dishes. Naturally, I won't use your name or mention specifics about the piece."

  Lola smiled down at the pottery in her hands. "Actually, I don't mind. You could just say an antique dealer named Lola who owns a shop on the west coast."

  "Awesome. Thanks, Lola. Maybe this article won't be so boring after all."

  We continued on to the next aisle of vendors. "What did I miss while I was discovering lost treasure?" Lola asked.

  "We've been invited to a Wiccan ceremony in the forest," Lacey said plainly.

  Lola didn't miss a beat. "Cool, I brought my Rush t-shirt with the pentagram. I'm already set for the party."

  We walked along in silence for a few seconds, then I looked at everyone. "So we're going?"

  Everyone exchanged glances. "I'm game," Lacey said. She pointed to Lola with her thumb. "She's already picked out her outfit."

  "Then it's settled," Raine said. "I haven't been to one in awhile, but they are generally entertaining events."

  Chapter 5

  After an enjoyable morning, including a walk and talk lunch of corn dogs and ginger ales, we piled into the jeep for the trip to Minnie's Shop of Magick. A large blue and gold banner hung across the front window of the small shop announcing that they were having a going out of business sale and everything was half off. Two women, excited about their candle purchases, walked out as we walked in.

  Lacey burst instantly into a sneeze fit and took a temporary detour back outside for fresh air. Lola was unfazed by it all. "Too many strong smells all crashing those supersonic olfactory cells at once," she explained calmly to our looks of concern. "She'll probably do a little mind sifting to block out the scents, now that she knows the extent of the assault that waits for her on this side of the door," Lola continued. "It's a skill she had to teach herself back when she was a kid. Otherwise, eating was a chore." Lola turned temporarily away from the display of wooden wands that had gained her interest and looked at us. "Can you imagine trying to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when all you can smell is the yucky school cafeteria odors? I'm sure you remember those stinky smells, the ones that seemed to have no origin but they were always there, hovering in the warm, muggy air over the tables and benches, no matter what they were cooking in the kitchen."

  Raine nodded. "Our cafeteria always smelled like moldy bread, except on pizza day. Then it smelled like pizza sauce mixed with moldy bread." We both looked out the window. Lacey was blowing her nose in a handkerchief. It seemed the sneeze fit had stopped.

  "Poor thing," I said, "I envy her ability but I can't imagine how hard it must be to block out unpleasant odors and smells that are inconsistent with what you're eating."

  Lacey walked back inside, still covering her nose with a tissue. "I'm fine," she muttered from behind her hand.

  Minnie had heard our voices and came out from the backroom. She looked a little stiffer, far less friendly than earlier in the morning when she invited us to her celebration. "We'll be closing in an hour," she said curtly. "I have to set up for the Harvest Rite." With that she turned around on her sandals and disappeared into the back.

  Raine stared after her for a second with a bunched brow. "Well, that was unfriendly." She shrugged. "But worth it for fifty percent off."

  Some of the shelves had been cleared, most likely by anxious customers taking advantage of the deals, but Minnie's shop was bursting with merchandise. A large multi-tiered shelving unit was filled with jars that reminded me of an old fashioned candy store, only the containers were filled with herbs and oils. Glossy, colorful candles filled tables and cabinets and bundles of dried sage hung from a wire on the wall. An impressive display of hand carved wands, silver chalices, pendants and charms filled a glass case beneath a shelf piled high with bath oils and soaps. Books of spells and rituals and bundles of tarot cards took up a rotating display stand that stood in the center of an otherwise empty rug. The rug was bright blue with a large pentagram, each point labeled with the elements earth, air, fire and water. The rest of the shelves were bursting with unique items like pewter dragons, jagged crystals and glittery masks. There was almost too much for a person to take in. It seemed Minnie had a lot of stock to sell off before she shut down for good
.

  Lacey and I stopped to admire the display of wands. They were the least offensive to her nose. She picked up a carved yellow wand that was crisscrossed in leather strips and covered in small green crystals. "I could have used a magic wand in elementary school. Nothing mean, mind you, just the occasional tarantula in a backpack or spilled thermos of milk." She lifted the wand and swirled it around like a character in a Harry Potter movie. "I was teased a lot because I was so skinny." She pointed to her nose. "My sense of smell made eating a chore."

  "Yes, Lola mentioned that you had to train yourself to block out odors. That must have been hard."

  "It took me a few years but I've pretty much mastered it now."

  "I'd love to hear how you've used your sense of smell to solve murders," I said. "We'll have to carve out some time to exchange stories."

  "I would love that."

  The door opened and several more customers swept in, including the two women I had seen at the park carrying decorations for the celebration. "Raine," the tall, brunette said as she spotted my friend filling a shopping basket with incense and candles.

  "Oh hey, Aubrey," Raine said in reply. She didn't seem inclined to have a chat and refocused on her candle selection.

  Aubrey wasn't dissuaded. "Are you coming to the Mabon Harvest Rite tonight?" she asked. "You should come. The more the merrier."

  Raine glanced my direction. "I think my friends and I might pop by. Minnie mentioned it earlier."

  Lacey turned back to me. "Should be an interesting night."

  "One thing I've discovered about living in Firefly Junction," I said, "it might be a small town but things are never dull." My phone buzzed and I pulled it from my purse. It was a text from Emily.

  "I'm making butternut, mushroom and sage pot pie. I think it'll be a winner for the autumn meal list at the inn. Why don't you bring your friends by tonight for a taste test? I'll whip up some fudge brownies to go with the vanilla bean ice cream I just churned."