Page 15 of A Jingle of Justice
“Morning,” I chimed.
Joss was cleaning our wares with a feather duster. Surprisingly, her Hawaiian shirt was khaki and drab, which I deduced matched her mood. Her face was tearstained.
I plunked Pixie on the floor and hurried to her. “You got my text about what happened last night, I see.” I’d sent a message the moment I got home. “It’s horrible, isn’t it?”
“What text? I didn’t see a text.”
“About Tianna Thistle,” I said. “We found her after closing, dead on the patio.”
Joss gasped. “OMG. Did she have a heart attack? Why didn’t you call me?”
“I didn’t want to ring you after ten. She was murdered.” I motioned to the yellow police tape crisscrossing the French doors. “Did you miss seeing that?”
“Geez!”
I gave her a quick recap and assessed her face again. “Why have you been crying?”
“Mom.” Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. “She’s not doing well.” Her mother had dementia and was in a retirement facility. “She’s not eating. They’re trying to force her, but . . .” She covered her mouth with one hand.
I swooped her into a hug.
Fiona winged into the shop. She’d wanted to keep guard and had spent the night slumbering in the ficus on the patio. She alit on Joss’s shoulder and stroked her hair. “There, there.”
Joss wriggled free of my grasp. “I’ll be fine, and she’ll be fine. Aging is the way of the world. I just wish it were more graceful.”
Fiona flitted to Pixie and kissed her on the nose. Pixie swatted her playfully.
“Morning!” My bestie Meaghan waltzed into the shop and closed the Dutch door. Her curly brown tresses graced her shoulders in stark contrast to the ecru jumper she was wearing. “I hope you’re all hungry. I brought goodies to celebrate the engagement.”
“Are you and Brady engaged?” Joss clasped my hand.
I pulled free. “Not me. My dad and Wanda.”
“Yep, they’re biting the bullet,” Meaghan said. “I’m thrilled for them. To celebrate”—she hoisted a bakery box from Sweet Treats—“I’ve brought cinnamon buns made with mincemeat and marzipan.” She paused by one of the holiday displays. “Ooh, I love the bells. We’re decorating the gallery today.” She drew nearer. When she took in Joss’s face, she set the box on the sales counter. “Whoa, what happened?”
Joss burst into tears and dashed toward the office.
“Is it her mother?” Meaghan asked. “Did she?—”
“No. She’s declining, but she’s alive. However . . .” I filled her in on the events of last night.
“How awful. I didn’t know Tianna, but my mother went to her for a reading. You know Mom. Anything for a lark. She didn’t believe one word Tianna said, but she liked her. She said she was guileless.” Meaghan shook her head sorrowfully. “Poisoned. Do you have a clue who did it? And is there really a treasure?”
“If there was, it’s long gone. The hole is empty. Red wants an archaeological team to view the area and see if they can find telltale clues. By the way, he’s got a cold. He might need some TLC,” I advised her.
“Noted.”
“Halloo! Do we smell goodies?” Glinda Gill entered the shop.
Lissa Reade followed her, carrying a stack of paperback books.
Glinda was dressed for tennis, her bobbed blond hair pulled into a scrunchie. Seeing her bare legs made me shiver. Light onher feet, she weaved through the showroom to us, searching left and right. For Fiona, I imagined. She had yet to see a fairy.
Fiona, the imp, knowing Glinda was eager to see her, orbited her head giggling.
Giving up, Glinda lifted the unopened bakery box. “I didn’t eat breakfast,” she chimed. “I’m starved. May I?” When she registered our faces, she frowned and placed the box on the sales counter. “Why so glum?”
Meaghan explained. The hole. The treasure. The poisoned cookie. The body.
