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“You dug up a body?” he demanded without preamble. “With help from a certain someone, I’m sure.”
“Why isn’t your first guess looters, since everyone in town has heard rumors about the gold?” she asked him quietly, being respectful of Beau’s nearness, And involvement. “I might have taken photos of their crime. In fact, I might be calling a certain special agent right now to report said crime. But however it happened, I think we can both agree it was my billion-year-old relative, my decision.”
A soft growl filled the line. “We wanted to douse the flames of interest in the cemetery, not to fan them.”
His gravelly voice tickled her ears. “The coffin had no gold. Consider the flames doused. You’re welcome, by the way. You can repay me by opening up my cemetery and removing the police tape.” It hadn’t bothered her before, but for some reason, it bothered her now.
“First, I planned to call you in the morning and tell you the cemetery is cleared for visitors. Second, check out your text messages. I’ve sent you several screenshots. Comments from your post.”
Uh-oh. He’d grated those words with more force than before.
Jane held her phone in front of her face and opened the new messages from Conrad. Though most of the townspeople were asleep, two night owls had already replied.
Believe Cemetery Girl’s staged picture? Try again. Stated by John Langston, a guy she’d gone to high school with. A bona fide conspiracy theorist, so big deal.
You obviously removed the gold before taking those photos. Posted by the mayor.
Okay, that one came with a sting. Her fingers tightened around the phone as she returned the device to her ear. “So that didn’t go exactly as planned. How do I prove there’s no gold here?”
His heavy sigh crackled over the line before he grumbled, “I know that tone. It means you’re already plotting something else. Stop it. Stop it right this second.”
Too late. Ideas rolled through her mind. “I think I need to launch a sting operation.”
“No,” he stated simply. “No sting operation, Jane.”
“I’ll host a tour, like I’ve done countless times in the past. Business as usual. Except I’ll charge double. Triple! Prices so exorbitant they weed out the merely curious. Only people invested in the case or the gold will pay. And you can’t forbid this, because the cemetery is still cleared for business, yes? Mourners gotta mourn, Conrad.”
“Yes. You are still cleared to open your business.” He’d graduated from demanding to hissing. “What do you hope to learn from this?”
Easy. “Who’s interested in the gold or the murder, as previously stated. Who’s interested in the gold, period. If someone attempts to snag the murder weapon. Finally ending the mystery about gold for everyone in town, making myself and my cat safer. Gaining a chance to look my home intruder in the eye. Revenge. Finding out if there’s someone paranoid enough to double check no evidence was left behind. Shall I go on?”
“How do you make sense?” He heaved another sigh. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. Come to my office first thing in the morning. Eight sharp. If I can’t stop your tour, I’ll help you as much as I can.”
He would? Really? “Thank you, Conrad. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Goodnight, Jane.” But he didn’t hang up. Not yet.
“Something else you wanna say, Conrad?” she said, and chewed on her bottom lip. Had she sounded as needy to him as she’d sounded to herself? In that moment, the Ladling curse meant nothing to her. She only wanted more of this man.
Another sigh. “I’m really glad I met you, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart again. Her chest clenched, a stronger squeeze than ever before. Tomorrow, the curse could matter again. For tonight? “I’m glad I met you too.”
They hung up, then, and she and Rolex crawled into bed. She tried to fall asleep, but her mind remained too active, running through the information, pairing different clues together. By six, she gave up and meandered into the kitchen, ready to start breakfast for Beau.
A note rested on the table alongside the shredded remains of her IOU.
We’re friends. You owe me nothing. I’ll stop by later, and you can tell me about your meeting with Conrad. B
So the two had already chatted? Men sucked. They were so freaking annoying. And so, so pretty. But mostly annoying. She couldn’t exactly prepare herself a feast, now, could she? Instead, she had to settle for whole grain.
Forget it. She had time to kill before making the hour-long drive to the city. Why not have pancakes. Except, they weren’t Fiona’s pancakes.
Back to whole grain.
Chapter Twelve
Brian McGowan
I Told You That Tasted Funny.
Plot 77, Garden of Memories
Jane stood behind a big potted plant in the lobby of Georgia Bureau of Homicide headquarters, phone pressed to her ear, writing in her notebook and hiding from the receptionist as she finished her call with Fiona. A big sign had been taped to the desk: NO CELL PHONES PAST THIS POINT.
