Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53698 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 268(@200wpm)___ 215(@250wpm)___ 179(@300wpm)
“I understand,” Lucy assured her with a firm nod. For some reason, the assurance struck Jane as genuine. “I once dated-not-dated a guy I only ever spoke with through text. Our relationship lasted three months.”
Could there be a more perfect opening for matchmaking? “So you’re single right now?”
“I am. After Oliver, I may never date again.”
Ha! Jane used to say the same thing. Then she met Conrad. An honorable guy had the power to change everything. Well, not everything. He would never convince her to consider the ultimate prize: a future together. She couldn’t let him. Nope. Whatever happened, her course was set. City boys and cursed cemetery girls didn't get forever, remember?
Again, she cleared her throat. “If you’ll give me a loan application, I’ll get going. Just so you know, I don’t actually want the loan, I don’t think, so maybe don’t approve it. But either way, this will help us maintain our cover.”
“Yes, yes. Smart thinking. Honesty is always the best policy.”
“Agreed.” She meant that. Did the other woman?
Lucy gathered the necessary pages, stuffed them inside a folder, wrote something on a Post It she adhered to the top, then handed everything over. “Please call me anytime. That’s my private number.”
She stacked the folder against Truth Be Told, crammed both in her oversized purse, and stood. “Let me know if you recall anything else about Tony.”
“Will do. And Jane? Thank you.”
“What can I say? I’m a sucker for justice.” She let herself out of the office and strode from the building, entering the warm, sunlit afternoon. Cars zipped across Prospect Street.
As she strolled along the sidewalk, heading for the Gilded Scissor Beauty Shop, her phone vibrated. She paused in the shadows under an awning, out of the way of any passersby, and freed the device. Ugh. The Headliner again.
“Ignore,” she muttered, kicking into motion. In less than a minute, she was striding inside the salon. Unfortunately, neither the owner nor the guy who’d helped operate the booth had arrived for the day.
Far from done with her quest for info, Jane headed to the Treasure Room. A showplace for local crafters that had quickly grown into a tea shop, book nook and event center. The owner’s booth had possessed a bird’s eye view of Lucy’s. Along the way, Jane passed the Cave of Wonders Hobby Shop, aka the Treasure’s Room’s fiercest rival.
“Hello,” she called, waving to the two patrons outside.
The pair ignored her. Oh well. Outside of events at the cemetery, most townsfolk brushed her off. She’d always been a bit of an oddball, she supposed.
Next door, ill-played piano tinkled out of the Grand Dame Dance Academy as Mrs. Dehew banged on ancient keys. At some point, every child of Aurelian Hills had either shuffled along the dance floor or practiced scales in that building.
Jane’s phone rang as she turned a corner. She swallowed a groan, halfway expecting Ashley Katz again. Or even Hannah Thorton, the Treasure Room’s owner, hoping to set up a meeting and hire her to solve the mystery of Tony’s death. For all Jane knew, every party attendee worked together to slay the attorney and now each one awaited a chance to cast blame on Hagger. Which wasn’t exactly a nonstarter. Stranger things had happened. Namely, three murders in a handful of months, each taking place within the same cemetery.
Braced for a shock, Jane freed the phone yet again. Oh! Dread morphed into relief and happiness when she caught sight of Fiona’s name.
“Hey you,” she said, pressing the cell to her ear. “I’m so glad you called. I have so much to tell you.”
“Jane! Jane!” her friend screeched, all kinds of panic in the undertone.
Oh, no, no, no. What had occurred? Her heart thundered in her chest. “Fiona, what’s wrong?”
“Jane, stop whatever you’re doing and come to the hospital. Nothing has ever been more important in your entire life.”
The blood rushed from her head, igniting a high-pitched roar in her ears. “Who’s hurt?” Fiona herself? Had Conrad been shot on the job? Had Beau gotten into some kind of altercation with an intruder at the cemetery? What, what?
“It’s Raymond.” Fiona whimpered. “He’s had a heart attack.”
CHAPTER FIVE
“Don’t just play the game. Play to win.”
Isaac Redding, security expert
Jane squeezed Fiona’s trembling hand. They occupied a small room in Pinetum Regional, the rural hospital shared by two neighboring communities, where Sheriff Moore slept on a bed. He wore a paper-thin gown and had wires and tubes extending from a plethora of locations. Usually tanned skin was pallid, a blue tracery of veins visible.
Beau and Conrad had arrived minutes after Jane. The two sat in cushioned chairs by the only window, marveling in hushed tones about small towns and the number of visitors allowed to congregate in each private space. In the background, a steady beep-beep played on repeat.