Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Then a sentence shocked a gasp out of her. She read it again. Then again. Nope, the words didn’t change. “I think my great grandfather Benjamin had an affair.” Furious on Opal’s behalf, Jane read the words out loud. “Do I stay with my pregnant wife or leave with my darling Elise, who is also pregnant?” She fumed. “How could he?”
Conrad winced. “Yeah. That’s pretty bad. To be fair, though, he doesn’t say Elise’s baby is his.”
Still! Jane had fond memories of Opal returning to the Garden every summer before passing at the age of ninety-nine. The small, gray-haired woman had made the world’s best homemade biscuits and sausage gravy. She used to rock Jane to sleep while staring out the window, as if waiting and watching for Benjamin to return home. Honestly, there’d been no sweeter or kinder woman. But of course, the Ladling curse overlooked no one. Had Benjamin run off with his precious Elise?
Or had he run off on his own, leaving both women behind? A cheater cheated.
A wave of sadness washed over Jane. And more anger. If Elise had lived in Aurelian Hills, she was most likely buried at the Garden. There’d been plenty of open plots back then and no other cemetery. Among the residents, two bore the name Elise. Elise Dansing and Mary Elise Sullivan.
Yes, Jane had memorized the guest list long ago. Anyway. Only one of the Elises had lived in the days of Benjamin and Opal. Elise Dansing, wife of Dr. Gabriel Dansing.
What was it with doctors and their six degrees away from scandal in this town?
Jane gulped. Dansing just happened to be the maiden name of Tiffany Hotchkins, a woman she’d accused of murder on three separate occasions. They weren’t mortal enemies, but they weren’t friends either.
Tiffany came from old money. Ancestors who’d struck it rich in the gold mines. What if Benjamin had decided to run away with Elise the night he’d found his own supply of gold—if he’d found the gold, of course—but Elise had entertained other ideas? She could’ve killed Benjamin and stolen his newfound fortune, keeping every dime for herself.
“I probably shouldn’t ask, but I’m a brave boy, so why not?” Conrad asked. “What’s going on in that mind of yours?”
“I think Benjamin had an affair with—” Jane scrunched up her nose—“Tiffany Hotckkins’s great grandmother.”
“Let me guess. You’re hoping to hunt down Tiffany for a chat before we do anything else?”
Jane ignored his wry tone and nodded. “Yes, please and thank you. Besides, she and Abigail were in town the day of my accident. I remember seeing them. So, who knows? Maybe I’ll solve both cases with the first swing.”
Turned out, Tiffany was indeed home this fine morning. According to sources at the Headliner, the rich widow never rose from bed before noon.
At 9:32, Conrad and Jane punched in the neighborhood’s gate code that everyone in town learned within minutes of a change, thanks to the app, and parked in the Hotchkins’s driveway. The sprawling, three-story mansion dazzled with its perfectly manicured yard and historic white columns.
In the good old dating days, Conrad would get out of a vehicle and rush to Jane’s side to help her emerge. Today, she didn’t give him a chance to sink into former boyfriend habits. If he reverted to such gentlemanly behavior, she’d melt into him; she knew she would. If he didn’t, she might spend the rest of the day missing it. What? A girl should always know her weaknesses and faults.
Anyway. Jane set Benjamin’s journal aside and entered the cold seconds behind Conrad. She smoothed the fabric of her yellow dress and covertly examined his expression. He still wore Beau’s sunglasses, hiding whatever emotion glimmered in his amber eyes. What’s more, his soft lips gave nothing away. Super soft. Beyond soft. But also firm the times they’d pressed against—Gah! Not going there.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she kept pace at his side as they made their way to the porch, not holding hands. How her palm ached to anchor to his.
“You know what you want to ask her?” he asked, his fist hovering over the closed door. “You’ll get only one answer out of her before she shuts the door in our faces, guaranteed.”
A good guess, considering the animosity Tiffany bore towards her. Besides accusing the widow of murder thrice, Jane had proved her ex-fiancé guilty of murder. Which was really a favor, if you thought about it. But, okay, yes, she’d also ruined Tiffany’s Halloween party by trapping a killer in her master bedroom.
“I don’t mean to brag, Conrad, but I’m about to rock this.” Probably. Mostly.
He snickered before he knocked his patented double rap. Then he knocked again. And again. He didn’t stop until the door swung open, revealing Tiffany.
Her dark hair hung about her shoulders, messy but somehow delightful. She blinked against the morning sun, tightening the belt of a champagne-colored satin robe with lace circling the cuffs and hem, giving off an old Hollywood glam vibe. Did this woman never look bad? She’d just been disturbed mid-slumber, and there weren’t even sheet creases on her cheeks.