Hidden Secrets: Blackmoore Sisters Cozy Mystery Series Book 9 Read online

  “You okay?” Luke patted the cushion beside him in invitation. “You seem a bit down tonight. You aren’t letting all that mess with Sheriff White get to you, I hope. We’ll figure it out. I promise.”

  She slid beneath his arm and rested her head atop his warm, hard chest as he kissed the top of her head. The reassuring thump of his heartbeat rumbled beneath her ear. “No. It’s not that.” She gave a sigh followed by a small fake cough. “I think maybe I’m coming down with a cold.”

  Ugh. Add another lie to the ever-growing list.

  Belladonna gave a disapproving meow.

  “Aw.” Luke placed his palm against her forehead then leaned down to kiss it gently. “Off to bed early with you then. I won’t have you getting sick. I can’t afford to get sick either. Go upstairs and get into bed. I’ll bring you up a hot toddy.”

  Morgan straightened, glad her long black hair hid her flaming hot cheeks. “I’m not that sick. Seriously. If anything, it’s just sniffles. I’m fine.”

  The cat got up and jumped over to the coffee table right in front of Morgan, gaze narrowed. Feline judgment glittered in her eyes and radiated off her small body in waves.

  Wait.

  If Morgan felt Belladonna’s emotions, did that mean she was getting her intuition back?

  “Look,” Luke said, gesturing toward Belladonna. “Even Belladonna thinks you’re making a bad decision. If that glare isn’t dripping with disdain, I don’t know what is. Just let me take care of you for once.”

  Morgan’s shoulders drooped with disappointment. Not her intuition then, if it was obvious to Luke too. Darn.

  “Hey,” Mateo said, coming back into the room, his words slightly muffled by his mouthful of food. “You guys want to play some poker? Henry Drake down the street is trying to scare up a game. Jolene and I are going.”

  “I don’t know,” Luke eyed Morgan. “Morgan isn’t feeling good, and I want to make sure she doesn’t overdo it.”

  “I’m fine, really. But you go ahead and play, Luke.” Morgan gave him a peck on the cheek and got up. “I’m going to turn in early. Ward off this cold before it starts.”

  Luke gave her an uncertain look, and she shooed him away with her hands. “Go, really. It’s easier to rest if you’re not hovering over me.”

  Luke stood. “Okay, I guess you have a point.”

  Perfect. Now Morgan could head to the library to see exactly what Celeste was doing to practice. Maybe that’s what Clementine had in mind when she told Morgan she had to nurture her gifts. Truth was that Morgan never really did much to strengthen them. They’d always just sort of been there. Was that why they were failing her now? Was it as simple as doing some exercises to get them back? But what exercises? Morgan had no idea, but if she could see what Celeste was doing, maybe she could do something similar.

  After she checked out what Celeste was doing, she could have some alone time to think about the best way to get to Clementine’s place before her sisters tomorrow.

  She said her goodnights, kissed Luke goodbye, and promised to call him in the morning to let him know how she was, then headed over to the south side of the huge mansion. They built them big and sturdy three centuries ago, and Blackmoore House had stood the test of time. The library was a regal room with jewel-toned oriental rugs on the floor and oak bookcases that soared ten feet high to the ceiling around the perimeter of the space. Expanses of burgundy papered walls, broken by paintings of old ancestors in gold-gilt frames.

  Celeste was sitting in the middle of the room on one of the rugs when Morgan arrived. A book was open in front of her, but her eyes were closed in concentration. Morgan hesitated in the doorway to watch as the pages flipped slowly on their own.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Celeste said without opening her eyes, making Morgan jump. “Come on in.”

  Great. Seemed even her sister had better intuition than Morgan these days. “What are you doing?” she asked as she took a seat on the rug across from Celeste.

  “Like I said, I’m practicing.” More pages of the book flipped on their own. “Ever since I discovered I could cast spells when we went to Salem, I’ve been trying to up my game. So far, all I’ve been able to do is minor things, like turning these pages with a simple spell and some focused concentration, but it’s still something, and I don’t want to lose the ability.”

  She peeked one eye open to glance at Morgan. The pages stopped turning, then she opened both eyes with a sigh. “We have to nurture our gifts, you know. Just like you nurture those plants and herbs of yours. If you don’t give them fertilizer, sunshine, and water, they’ll wither away and die. Same with our gifts. If we don’t train and practice and keep improving them, they’ll go away.”

  Morgan’s chest squeezed tight. That was eerily similar to what Clementine had been trying to tell her. Could these exercises of Celeste’s be the cure to what ailed her?

  “I mean my skills aren’t anywhere near as important as yours,” Celeste continued. “But I still want them to be the best they can be.”

  “Your gifts are just as important as mine,” Morgan scoffed. “You can see ghosts, for goodness sake. Talk to them and find out what they know. That’s helped us tremendously.”

  “Yeah, but you can’t rely on ghosts. They never show up when we need them.”

  “Do you think maybe Clementine’s ghost will appear? She could tell us what happened.” Morgan tried to tamp down the rush of hope that idea brought and failed. Having Clementine speak to them from beyond the grave and reveal the name of her killer would certainly solve the majority of Morgan’s problems at the moment. Unless, of course, Clementine’s ghost also blabbed to everyone that Morgan had been at her place on the day she’d died.

  Celeste shrugged. “Maybe. But if paranormals are involved in the murder, we’re going to need your intuition more.”

  True. Normally, when the sisters were about to be attacked, Morgan could feel it ahead of time. She could also ascertain the moves their opponents would make. Sometimes she could tell where people had been or if they were hiding when they walked into a room. But with her gifts basically nonexistent at present, those talents wouldn’t help them. Not until she figured out what was wrong.

  “Too bad about Sheriff White having it out for us too. I hoped we’d put all that behind us once Overton was gone.” Celeste leaned back on her hands. “White seems just as bad though, at least from what she said to you. How dare she accuse an innocent person like that, with no proof at all. And in your shop too. Good thing no customers were in there. Could be bad for business.”

  Morgan nodded but didn’t say anything, too caught up in trying to figure out how she was going to get into Clementine’s house to get back her amulet without anyone knowing.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it though.” Celeste smiled. It took Morgan a moment to realize she was still talking about Sheriff White and not Morgan breaking into a crime scene. “Like Jake said, there’s a ton of Toyotas out there, and we all know you had nothing to do with Clementine’s death. The real culprit will turn up soon enough.”

  Her sister sat forward again and closed her eyes to concentrate on her practicing, and Morgan stared at the book. The pages started flipping again, rhythmically, hypnotically. Practice and nurture. Practice and nurture. Practice and nurture.

  But how could she practice and nurture her own gifts? It wasn’t like there were intuition exercises that would show results like the flipping of pages in a book. And how would she know if it was working?

  Celeste squinted sideways at Morgan. “I cast spells, and you can see the results because the pages flip. But your gift of intuition is a bit different.” Stunned, Morgan just blinked at her sister. How had Celeste known what Morgan was thinking? Was it just a coincidence? As far as she knew, none of them could read minds. Not yet anyway. But she’d have to be more on guard in the future, just in case.

  “Like with your herbs,” Celeste continued, her blond hair glistening gold in the candle light. “You can make y
our concoctions and test them out on your clients and see the results. Intuition is a way different animal. I guess it’s not as easy for you to practice, is it?”

  Morgan shook her head.

  “Meow.”

  Morgan looked over her shoulder to find Belladonna standing in the doorway of the library, rubbing her cheek against the doorframe. A new idea occurred. Testing her gifts on humans under the current circumstances was tricky, but Morgan had always felt connected emotionally to the feline. Perhaps she could use the cat to test out her intuition. If what had transpired downstairs was any indication, Belladonna already suspected something was wrong. Cats were way smarter than people gave them credit for, and Belladonna was more intelligent than most. And there was no way she could tell her sisters what was up.

  Perfect.

  She got up and started out of the room, scooping the cat up on the way. “Have fun practicing.”

  Celeste simply nodded then closed her eyes, focusing again on the book. Silently, Morgan left the library and headed for her own room. She’d spend some time working with the cat, trying to pick up her emotions with her intuition, then figure out how to get into Clementine’s place to retrieve her amulet.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The next day, Morgan was up early. Her plan was to sneak out of the house before anyone else was awake. She hoped to get to Clementine’s place before the police started their day and before her sisters arrived. Plus, she was scheduled to work at Sticks and Stones first thing, and Fiona would get suspicious if she showed up late. Just to be on the safe side, she left a note in the kitchen telling Fiona she was stopping to pick up coffees on the way to work. Then she slipped outside and hurried to her truck.

  She parked a few blocks away from Clementine’s house, not wanting any nosy neighbors to spot her there again. Morgan climbed out and turned to lock the doors, only to hear a loud meow from inside the vehicle.

  Great. Belladonna had snuck into the car again.

  There was no time to take her back to the house now, and it wouldn’t have done any good anyway. The cat never stayed where she was supposed to. It was too cold to leave her in the car, so Morgan had no choice but to unlock the door and let her come along. On second thought, it could turn out to be a good thing, she supposed. Given her lack of intuition, the feline’s senses could be helpful. She reached in and pulled out the cat, tucking her safely inside her coat for warmth, then locked up and headed toward Clementine’s place.

  Police tape still covered the doors and windows from what she could see from the road, but there weren’t any officers in sight, thank goodness. Several rows of footprints tracked through the snow. Morgan double-checked to make sure no one was around then carefully picked her way through the existing tracks to avoid leaving any new footprints for the cops to find. The street was quiet, especially this early, and Clementine’s house was set away from the others anyway. The sun had barely started to rise, the sky streaked with bands of red and gold near the horizon. Her breath frosted on the wind, and Belladonna squirmed inside her down coat. Maybe she should consider taking the cat more places in winter. She was hot in there, like a little mini space heater.

  In fact, she’d not noticed the other day, but there really were no other houses in the vicinity besides Clementine’s. A gigantic oak tree and some smaller elms stood to the far left of the lot, and Morgan could see a small red ranch house a little ways away. Oh right, that was Alma Myers’s place. Honestly, in the summer, with all the leaves on the trees, the other house probably wouldn’t be visible at all, but now, with the limbs bare, the nearest neighbor would have a limited view of Clementine’s property.

  The windows of Alma’s house were dark though, from what Morgan could see, meaning she was either still asleep or not home. Good. And it wasn’t like she had a choice about breaking and entering or not. She had to get her amulet back, especially since her sisters were planning on coming here.

  Traipsing through the snow along the side of the house to the rear yard, Morgan hesitated at the back door. If Celeste was here, she could unlock it with one of her spells, but even when they were working properly, Morgan’s gifts didn’t include that kind of magic. Good thing Jolene had taught her how to pick a lock the old-fashioned way. Another bonus of working at a PI’s office.

  Morgan crouched and pulled out the small leather pouch that Jolene had given her with everything she needed to break any type of lock. She pulled off her gloves, blowing on her fingers to keep them warm and flexible, before picking up the tiny, delicate tools.

  Belladonna meowed from inside her coat, poking her head out the top of the zipper to watch. The last thing she needed was her fingerprints on the door, so easy did it, even if her prints were probably all over the house already. Thoughts of Sheriff White pulling up to the front of the Blackmoore House, lights blazing, to arrest Morgan flashed through her head.

  Nope. Not going there. She forced herself to concentrate on picking the lock instead. Given that the temperatures had dropped to almost zero last night, she and Belladonna would get frostbite if they stayed out here much longer.

  Morgan blew on her stiff fingers again then got to work, slipping two picks into the lock to align the tumblers just so. A few clicks later and she smiled as the door creaked open. She packed up her tools and pulled her gloves back on before heading inside and quietly closing the door behind her.

  The quiet stillness inside the house was a bit creepy, so different from the lively surroundings of the day before when she’d had her appointment with Clementine. Then, there’d been soothing new-age music playing in the background and sweet patchouli incense burning. Candles had been lit, and bright winter sunshine had filled the place. And Clementine had still been alive.

  Now the place was as silent as a funeral parlor and smelled like death.

  She took a moment of silence in reverence to the woman who’d died here then slowly proceeded farther into the house. Belladonna meowed loudly from inside her coat, so she slowly unzipped and unloaded the feline, placing her down on the ground to explore. From the police markers, it appeared Clementine had been murdered in the kitchen, at the table. The remnants of a body outline were still on the floor. One of the chairs was pulled out, and the table was still set with a teapot. No plates or cups though. That was weird. Then again, perhaps the police had already taken them into custody as evidence. As murder scenes went, it was pretty neat and orderly. Apparently there hadn’t been much of a struggle. No strange burn marks on the floor or walls or other abnormalities that indicated murderous paranormal energy.

  It was chilly in the house, though at least there was no wind. The sound of the breeze whistling past lent a more sinister air to the house than Morgan remembered. Her mind raced as she walked from the kitchen into the living room. Clementine had told her during her appointment that she only brought clients into her front parlor, never farther. Could that mean the killer was someone Clementine knew, then? The fact she’d been murdered in the kitchen certainly suggested that.

  As Morgan peered around the place, she tried to summon her intuition to divine a solution but got nothing. Belladonna trotted past Morgan’s booted feet, sniffing everything and watching Morgan carefully. The wind howled louder outside and spurred her onward. There was no time to inspect the rest of the house now. She needed to get her amulet from the parlor and get out of here.

  She crept into the front room and opened the glass door cabinet where Clementine kept her dishes of sea salt. There it was!

  Morgan’s heart leapt at the sight of her black obsidian stone resting inside a purple dish. Beside the dish with her amulet were a set of china teacups. Clementine had used one of them to read Morgan’s tea leaves the day before. The pattern matched the teapot in the kitchen.

  Two of the cups, Morgan noticed, were set rim-side down, their handles perfectly aligned. A third one sat with them, rim-side up. Odd, that one would be different. Then again, she didn’t know Clementine that well. Just because Morgan was a neatnik who li
ked everything in order didn’t mean everyone else was like that too. Maybe Clementine just didn’t care, or maybe she’d been in a hurry. Or perhaps she’d been drinking tea with her assailant in the kitchen and the police had put the cups back after processing them. That would explain the absence of cups in the kitchen and indicate that she had known her killer.

  Shoving her thoughts about the teacups aside, Morgan grabbed her amulet and put it on then hurried back to the kitchen, where Belladonna was now meowing loudly.

  “What’s the matter?” Morgan whispered as she came around the corner to find the cat batting at something with her paw. “No, no. Don’t touch anything, Belladonna. We shouldn’t disturb things.”

  She didn’t want to mess with anything at the crime scene. The police weren’t done yet, at least according to the tape still covering the doors and windows. If she got caught tampering with a crime scene, Sheriff White would have a field day. Plus, most likely, they’d photographed the area too and would know if anything had been tampered with.

  When Belladonna continued to bat whatever she’d found around with her paw, Morgan bent down and picked her up then noticed the object that the cat had seemed fascinated with. It appeared to be a small scrap of paper. Morgan picked it up and found it was thicker stock, almost like a business card, slightly laminated with pretty blue and purple colors on one side but no writing. Weird. There was no police marker near the paper, so it didn’t appear to have been catalogued by the police. Had Belladonna brought it to Morgan as a clue?

  She chuckled at her own silliness. Of course not. That wasn’t possible, right? Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time Belladonna had helped them out with a clue. Maybe she should take it more seriously.

  As she inspected the tiny piece of paper more closely, a creak issued from the floorboards near the front door. Morgan’s heart clogged her throat. Someone else was here. She scooped up the cat and stuffed the scrap of paper into her pocket.