“Then that’s a few too many.” I stood up and headed for my coat. “Come on, Detective. We have work to do.”

  “Tomorrow.” He intercepted me and grabbed my hand. “Tonight, we’re going to get to know our baby.”

  My heart melted.

  “I read we should talk to your stomach and play music. Things like that.” He shrugged. “They can hear, you know.” He snagged a book from the table that I hadn’t even noticed sitting there. I scanned the title, and my eyes sprang wide. It was about all the stages of pregnancy and how the baby develops. He really was going to be Superdad.

  “Who are you and what have you done to my husband?”

  He laughed. “Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  Well, how could I say no to that.

  8

  The next morning, I pulled into the service bay of Dawson’s Digs and cut the engine to my VW Bug. The sound of power tools and the smell of motor oil permeated the air through my open window. I’d never been here before. Looking around, I was impressed and happy for Dawson. His garage wasn’t as big as Big Don’s Auto, but he’d done well for himself. Dawson snagged a clipboard off the service station desk and headed in my direction, looking tall, dark and rugged. I’d never noticed how much he looked like Mitch. Even their walks were similar. How had I missed that?

  I got out of the car.

  Dawson looked up and blinked, halting in his tracks.

  “Hey, Sunny. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  His eyes scanned my outfit, making me rethink the black and yellow sunflower sundress I’d donned. I wasn’t trying to look pretty or anything, I just…I don’t know. I just wanted things to be the way they used to between us.

  “You look nice,” he continued, then he glanced back at his clipboard.

  “Thank you. I’m so sorry about the wrongful accusation of you trying to sabotage my wedding.”

  “No harm done.” He shrugged. “Marriage agrees with you.”

  “Thank you, Dawson. You too.” We had been friends. I hated the awkwardness between us now.

  “I’m not married,” he replied, meeting my eyes with a blank expression. I hated that I couldn’t read what he was thinking.

  “I mean, you look nice, too,” I rambled. “Not that marriage agrees with you.” A bubble of hysteria popped out of my mouth as a laugh before I kept rambling. “But I bet if you were married, it would agree with you. Not that I want you to get married, or that I don’t want you to get married. I mean—”

  “What can I help you with,” he steered the ridiculous conversation back on track, thank goodness.

  “My girl is acting up again,” I gladly said in a language we both understood.

  He quirked a brow. “Why didn’t you bring her to Big Don’s Auto?”

  “They’re full all day. Besides, you know her better than anyone.”

  “Maybe it’s time you put her out of her misery.”

  “Bite your tongue. That’s blasphemy. Would you put your grandmother out of her misery just because she’s old and shakes when she moves?”

  His lips twitched as we relived the same conversation we’d had for the first six months I’d been in Divinity. My car would break down. I would take her to Big Don’s Auto and spend a fortune getting her fixed. Dawson would tell me it was time. I needed to put the poor girl out of her misery. I would scold him for teasing me because he knew full well I would probably go to my grave still driving this car.

  He sighed dramatically, but we both knew it was fake. “I guess I can take a look. What’s wrong this time?”

  “What isn’t wrong?”

  “That’s my point.”

  “Yeah yeah.” I laughed, and looked him in the eye, growing serious. “It’s really good talking to you again, Dawson. It’s been a minute.”

  “It has, and I’m sorry about that.” His eyes softened. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry for letting you think it was.”

  “Don’t be sorry. You seriously don’t have anything to be sorry for.” I shook my head no, over and over. “I’m the one who’s sorry for being so bad at dating.”

  “Clearly, you’ve done something right.” His gaze fell to my slightly less flat stomach, and he grinned. “Congratulations, by the way.”

  My hands covered my bump, and I smiled with happiness. “I have done something right, haven’t I?”

  “You sure have. I really am happy for you, Sunny.” His eyes and tone told me he was sincere.

  “Thank you. That means a lot. What about you?” I asked. “I want you to be happy as well.”

  “I’m doing okay.” His face flushed a little if I wasn’t mistaken.

  “Willow Goodbody is a beautiful woman.”

  The flush deepened, and he cleared his throat as he walked over to the counter. “She’s a nice enough woman, but she’s only here temporarily. As soon as everyone is cleared, she’ll be moving on to the next Psychic Fair.” He held out his hand, and I handed him the keys to my car as he filled out a form.

  “Willow said she gave you a reading and then spent the night with you the evening of the murder. Is that correct?”

  He eyed me curiously.

  “I promise I really did need my car fixed and Big Don’s was full today, but I thought since I’m here, I might as well verify her alibi.”

  He lifted a shoulder and looked up as if remembering, then nodded. “Yes, it was Sunday night. The last day of the festival. She was lonely, and I was lonely. The rest is history. Nothing more complicated than that.”

  “Have you seen her since?”

  “Around town, but she hasn’t been back to my place if that’s what you’re asking.” He set his pen back on the counter.

  “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you. Hopefully, you’ll find someone amazing because you deserve it.”

  “It’s okay, Sunny. My ego was a little bruised back then, but I’m fine. Seriously.” He smiled a genuine smile.

  I smiled back and then started to head for the door when he asked, “What time did they estimate the murder happened?”

  “Between eleven p.m. and twelve a.m., why?”

  He hesitated for a moment as if torn, but then finally answered, “I like Willow, but Sean is my friend. Willow Goodbody didn’t get to my place until nearly one a.m. I have no clue what she was doing before that.”

  “Well, this is certainly an interesting turn of events,” I said.

  “Why, yes, it is,” came a deep rumbling voice from behind me. “It certainly is.”

  I didn’t have to be psychic to know I was busted.

  “Well, I’m officially in the doghouse,” I said to Jo and Zoe at Papas’ Greek restaurant. “I hadn’t expected to be here so soon after the honeymoon.”

  The smells of various meats, greens, and olives assaulted my senses with delight while the clatter of silverware against plates and the hum of conversation filled the background. Marble pillars and statues were scattered about, making customers feel as if they were actually in ancient Greece.

  Nikko’s Italian restaurant with old school Italy decor was just down the street, and the owners were often trying to outdo each other. I paid equal homage to both. Dawson’s garage was just down the street from the local restaurants. I’d walked there, all too happy to get away from my fuming detective husband, and called the girls on the way, asking them to meet me for lunch.

  “Spill the tea, girl.” Jo rubbed her hands together. “I need to talk about something other than diaper rash cures and when to start oatmeal.”

  “Well, my car was having problems, so I brought it to Dawson’s garage to be fixed.” I couldn’t quite meet their eyes.

  “Oh, boy,” Zoe said.

  “Oh, yeah,” I replied, looking up and feeling my cheeks warm.

  “Why not Big Don’s Autobody?” Jo eyed me curiously.

  “I was going to take it there, but Belle said they were booked full for today.” I waved my hands in front of my face. “That is the truth, I swear.” I dropped my hands and wrinkled my nose. “Could it have waited a day? Yes, but I saw this as my opportunity to clear the air with Dawson.” I blew out a big breath. “What a mess this has turned out to be. He used to be my friend, and it’s been so awkward between us ever since I accidentally shot him down when he was trying to ask me out.”

  “I hate to be the voice of reason, but you’ve had all sorts of time to clear the air,” Zoe asked. “Why now?”

  “Willow Goodbody claims she spent the night with Dawson the evening of the murder. One of us had to verify her story.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Jo took a bite of her Caesar salad. She told us she was trying to lose weight after having the twins, which was crazy if you asked me. She looked amazing, especially with nursing the two human garbage disposals who seemed to have bottomless pits for stomachs. “Earth to Sunny. Where’d you go?”

  “Sorry. My mind is a mess these days.” I refocused on our conversation. “Dawson and I really did clear the air, and we’re fine now. I feel so much better about that, but I knew Mitch would be angry. He specifically said he would handle talking to Dawson.”

  “Ohhh.” Jo wiped her mouth with a napkin.

  “Yeah.” I shoved a gyro in mine.

  “Men can be so touchy,” Zoe said, pushing the fluffy layer of bechamel sauce and cheese around the top of her moussaka, not eating a bite. “Lately, Sean takes everything I say to him the wrong way.”

  “He’s just stressed about being a suspect and not being able to do anything about it.” Jo sipped her water. “Remember how bad Cole was?”

  “Mitch too,” I agreed, sipping my milk. “It’s so silly, though. I’m married to him, not Dawson. In fact, I didn’t even date Dawson. My car needed fixing, I made amends with a friend, and I got what I needed for the case. Willow didn’t actually show up until after the estimated time of death for Audra, so her story has holes in it now. If Mitch had been the one to talk to Dawson, he may not have given him anything on Willow. I will do whatever it takes to clear Sean’s name, even if it means sitting in the doghouse.”

  “And I appreciate that more than you know.” Zoe fidgeted with her napkin. “I don’t know what I’ll do if Sean goes to jail for murder.”

  “He won’t, and that’s that.” I took her hand and tried to let my energy flow into her. “I can feel it.”

  Her eyes met mine and filled with hope. “You really think so?”

  I needed to give her something to hang on to. “What are you ladies doing for the rest of the afternoon?” I asked with a mischievous grin.

  “Honey, I cleared my day when you called,” Jo said. “I could use a girls’ day out, no matter where it is.” Good thing because she wasn’t going to like what I had to say, but it was essential, and Zoe needed this.

  “I’m free,” Zoe chimed in. “The only wedding I’m planning is my own, and that is on hold at the moment.”

  “Good, it’s settled then.” I set my napkin down and nodded once. “Put on a nice outfit, and let’s go on a little adventure.”

  “Where to?” Jo eyed me cautiously.

  “Finger Lakes wine country.”

  “Sylvia Meadows Stone, don’t you know alcohol is bad for the baby,” my mother said from behind me.

  I turned around to see the great Vivian Meadows, Granny Gert, Great-Grandma Tootsie, and Fiona being seated at a table right by ours. How had I missed them when I came in? This pregnancy brain fog was no joke.

  “I know that mother.” I kept my calm, remembering the therapist’s advice, before she knew who I was and threw me out of her office, that is. “That’s why I’ll be the DD.” I smiled a little too brightly.

  “DD?” Toots asked. “You kids and your lingo. I can’t keep up.”

  “Designated Driver,” I clarified.

  “We can’t all fit into that tiny beetle of yours,” Fiona added.

  “It’s a Volkswagen Bug, not a beetle.” I laughed, but my chuckles quickly faded as her words sank in. “Who said anything about we?”

  “I think it would be okay,” Zoe said. “The more the merrier.”

  “Well, tweedled dee dee, I have a big ole Cadillac that’s just sitting at the inn. I can drive,” Granny Gert chimed in.

  “No!” we all said at once.

  “You can drive Cole’s minivan,” Jo offered. She’d refused to give up her truck after the twins were born, so Cole surprised her by trading in his for a minivan. He’d earned big points for that one.

  “Boys oh day, we’re going on a road trip.” Toots clapped her hands and hummed show tunes, swaying back and forth as her mind wandered off in thought before she added, “I haven’t been on a road trip in years.”

  “Oh, my word, we’re going to have a grand ole time.” Granny Gert twittered. “I’ll bake us some cookies for the road.”

  “And pie,” Fiona chimed in. “Don’t forget about my pie. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. I feel like a spring chicken.” She smoothed her bottle-blond hair.

  “You’re all something, all right, and you’re not going anywhere without me.” My mother pursed her lips before adding, “I’ve got my eye on all of you.” She looked at me and pointed. “Especially you.”

  How had my day gone from a girls’ trip with my best friends to babysitting the Tasty Trio and listening to Mimizilla lecture me every step of the way. My mother refused to be called grandma anything and mama was reserved for me, so she’d chosen Mimi. I’d just gotten a taste of what Mimi was going to be like as a grandmother. I groaned, wishing I were anywhere but here.

  Suddenly the doghouse didn’t look so bad.

  9

  Hastings Tastings was a Finger Lakes winery situated along Seneca Lake about an hour and a half west of Divinity. It was small but quaint. With only one tasting counter, there wasn’t a lot of room in the building. The rest of the space was filled with bottles of wine, glasses, magnets and other paraphernalia. Rich could use some help in arranging his winery shop, and maybe hire someone who was more organized when it came to distributing his wine. He had the right idea; he was just too green.

  “I feel bad I had to let Rich go,” Jo said, searching the room yet again. We’d been there for an hour already. “You owe me for being here.” She sampled a chardonnay and wrinkled her nose, dumping the rest out. “Audra was right. This is awful. I hadn’t tasted all of Rich’s wine. The Riesling wasn’t bad, but then again, the Finger Lakes region is known for producing outstanding Rieslings. I was going off Mark’s recommendation. Lesson learned. Act like a businesswoman before a friend. The pinot grigio is okay but the reds are the worst.” She shuddered.

  “I wouldn’t know about the wines, but I saw it as an opportunity to question him,” I responded. “You can relax. I’ve looked everywhere, but I haven’t seen him.”

  “I don’t feel bad for him,” Zoe said, joining us. “He obviously has an issue with anger. He got into an argument with Audra, and then he threatened Sean. I don’t understand how Mark ever became friends with him in the first place, but why stay friends after he witnessed Rich’s bad behavior? That’s not like the Mark I knew.” Zoe was the wine lover among us all. She’d taken one sip of a Sauvignon Blanc and had refused to taste any more.

  I didn’t blame her. I took a sip of my water. I couldn’t drink any wine because of the baby, but that didn’t mean my stomach wasn’t turning over the overwhelming smells of the different types of wines blending together.

  “The coroner did say there were signs of a struggle on Audra’s body,” I said, focusing on the investigation. “It makes me wonder if Rich went back to see Audra. The argument could have escalated, resulting in a struggle. He could have seen an opportunity and pushed her into the electrified puddle.”

  “Or she could have stumbled and fallen into the puddle,” Jo said.

  “Either way, Rich Hastings had the means and the motive.” I set my glass down and ate a cracker. “The question is does he have an alibi?”

  “Do, re, mi…mimimimimeeeee…fa, so, la, ti, do!” came a woman’s operatic soprano voice from the end of the tasting counter.

  “Wait, is that…?” I couldn’t finish my sentence because that would be utterly ridiculous. Impossible. Never happen.

  “Mimi, hahaha. Get it? That’s meeeee,” the voice trilled again.

  I stepped away from the counter and leaned back to look down the bar. “Oh, good Lord.” Several patrons had already whipped out their phones and pressed record.

  “No way.” Jo choked on another taste of awfulness.

  “Is that your mother,” Zoe asked.

  “No, that’s Mimi, my unborn child’s future grandmother.” I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “And here she was worried the Tasty Trio was going to misbehave. Or worse, me. She’s going to die when she sees this later.”

  Great-Grandma Tootsie hummed along, lifting her wine glass in salute as she swayed back and forth. She was more of a rye and ginger type woman, but she appeared to like the taste of Hastings wine just fine. Or maybe her taste buds weren’t what they used to be as she approached a century of living.

  Granny Gert waved her wooden spoon—yes, she carried it with her everywhere—around as if she were a maestro, directing a choir of one.

  Fiona danced in circles, not to be outdone, clapping her hands and singing the background chorus with a few yodels thrown in.

  “Ma’am?” The wine steward, called a sommelier, was a woman, and she didn’t seem too happy as she flagged my attention with a towel. “Can you get the rest of your party to quiet down please? No one can hear me describe the notes and body of the wines. Or possibly get them to leave. There are others waiting to taste, and those ladies appear to have tasted every bottle we make…twice.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said and meant it, wincing when another rendition of operatic mimi’s rang through the air, nearly shattering the glasses. “I was just waiting to meet the owner, Rich Hastings, before we left.”

  My eyes sprang wide. Was that a kazoo?

 

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