Dreamed It

Justice for the dead and solace for the living is Baxley Powell’s creed, but she faces uncharted territory in this sixth book of the Dreamwalker Mystery Series. The Suitcase Killer has struck again, only this big city menace is now a problem for Baxley’s hometown. As that investigation heats up, a local woman is reported missing. The sheriff orders Baxley to work the missing person’s case.

Listening to the dead is familiar ground for Baxley but finding a missing young lady isn’t in her skill set. Besides, her dreams rarely follow a timeline. With the clock ticking, can this crime consultant discover a way to reach the living?

Her main source of help in the afterlife, a mentor named Rose, is unavailable. Instead, Baxley must rely on her wits and her Native American boyfriend, Deputy Sam Mayes, to find leads. Each shared dreamwalk and energy transfer binds them closer together, creating another issue. Mayes wants to marry Baxley but it isn’t that easy. They’re hampered by their community roles in opposite ends of the state.

Baxley juggles the pressure of two high-profile cases, a determined suitor, and expanding her limits. One thing is certain. Without her extrasensory sleuthing, the missing woman will die.

Excerpt:A sudden jolt propelled me to consciousness. I gazed upon a vast darkness and wheezed air into my lungs. Time passed as I steadied my breathing and slowed my racing heart. Flat on my back, I took stock of my situation.

Numb limbs indicated an extended dreamwalk, but I had no memory of any such excursion. I’d spent a quiet Sunday evening at home with my daughter and Sam Mayes, my Native American boyfriend, who was down from North Georgia for the weekend. I’d gone to sleep in my own bed and awakened here, wherever here was. Was I alone? I called upon my flagging energy to do a life signs scan. Using my extra senses, I virtually ranged out from my prone position. Mayes was to my immediate left, and from his low energy levels, as wiped out as I was. He was a dreamwalker, same as me. And from the cold energy pressing against my leg, my ghost dog watched over us. He’d bark on the spirit plane if someone or something approached, though my scan assured me we were alone. The void in my memory worried me. My debilitated condition pointed to an extrasensory event, but danged if I remembered contacting a spirit on the Other Side. Strange, because I remembered every other dreamwalk I’d ever made. Why not this one?

So much for me being an expert on the paranormal. Just when I thought I had the hang of my unusual profession of communicating with the dead, it socked me in the teeth. Crossing over to the spirit realm was something I did often, but the veil between the living and the dead nearly won this time. This had been no ordinary dreamwalk.

Instead of it being a spirit-only event, somehow our bodies had also undergone the shift. That defied the laws of physics, but here we were, body and spirit. Impossible and yet my reality. Tears misted my eyes, and I blinked to sharpen my vision. A woodsy aroma filled my nose, so we were outdoors. The darkness suggested it was night. My thoughts drifted into a self-healing meditative trance focusing on the breath. Gradually, clarity returned. As numbness yielded to tingling nerves, sensation seeped into my rigid body. Fatigue rolled in next, and with it, the riptide of bone-deep exhaustion. Despite my weariness, I took heart. This reaction was normal after an extended dreamwalk. Oliver lapped happily at my face, his whip-thin tail wagging his entire ghostly form. Good dog, Oliver, I managed as I joined him on the spirit plane. While here in spirit only, I still maintained awareness of my physical surroundings. My ghost dog materialized as a misty image of a jet black Great Dane, his body aquiver with happiness. Earlier this summer I rescued Oliver from virtual chains and too-tight collar at a haunted house. No amount of urging had prompted him to the afterlife, and his essence attached to mine. At this bereft moment, I was delighted by his presence. Oliver showed us the way home through the drift, I realized. It wasn’t the first time he’d rescued me, and I owed him so much already.

Despite my dry-as-cotton mouth, I cooed over him while I tried to pinpoint my location. Stars twinkled overhead, framed by tall oaks and pines. Not my treetops, not my yard. I heard a moan to my left. Felt the urgency as Mayes whispered my name.

“Baxley.”

With a final rub of the ears for Oliver, I integrated fully into the physical plane.

Mayes whispered again, his tone deeper and freighted with authority. “Bax. You okay?”

“Yeah.” I managed. “What happened to us?”

“Got no clue.” Sam Mayes had become a fixture in my life, though I’d only known him for three months. I wished I was in his protective arms right this very second.

“I feel like I got run over by a truck,” I said. “Last thing I remember is getting ready for bed.”

“That’s right.” His voice roughened. “I shared your toothpaste before we crawled under the covers.”

My face heated as memories surfaced. “I remember the before-sleep part fine, but between there and here is a big, fat zero. Except for Oliver. He guided us home through the drift.” I tried to sit, but my limbs weren’t fully responsive yet. I remained prone.

“I have the same mental gap. I believe we were taken, body and spirit, from your house.” Hearing the words made it real. The impossible had happened. Nothing else explained our physical displacement, the prolonged recovery time, and the shared memory gaps.

My teeth ground together as I made another connection. “Unless some other entity kidnapped us, my money’s on Rose. Her abilities go beyond the possible. I’ve never met another spirit entity as powerful.”

Allegedly, my otherworld mentor, Rose, worked undercover in the spirit realm, but she claimed to be an angel. Seeing her dark, powerful wings had made a believer out of me. That physical manifestation, her ability to do impossible feats, and her total hold on me proved she was more than a powerful spirit. She’d banished demons, fetched folks from beyond the point of no return, wrestled with selkies, quelled spirit rebellions, and more. Trouble was, Rose kept changing the rules of our association.

By sheer willpower, I managed to draw one hand close enough to study in the starlight. From the faint glow of my watch, it was three a.m. The rose tattoo on my hand was still there. Rose put three tattoos on my body to indicate the hours of my indenture to her. Rats. If she’d gone to the trouble of kidnapping us and erasing our memories, her prominent brand indicated I still owed her the hours of my life I’d willingly exchanged during life-or-death situations of loved ones.

That’s right. Rose charged for her supernatural favors, and I’d begged for her help three times. Each time the terms had been the same. A favor in exchange for an hour of my life. I’d agreed due to the dire nature of the situations, but darn-it-all if I wanted Rose to collect. With her rule-bending nature, I could turn into a mass murderer or worse on either side of the veil.

“I keep reminding you, Rose is not your friend,” Mayes said.

“Maggie Toussaint’s ability to craft growing, exquisite tension couched in interpersonal relationships, revelations, and the fine line between the Other Side and waking events enhances another story that is hard to put down: one which will attract and please both mystery readers and those seeking a walk on the wild side of paranormal abilities. Dreamed It crafts a tense, outstanding whodunit that will keep readers involved on both an emotional and an investigative level, right up to the story’s riveting conclusion.” –Diane Donovan, Midwest Book Review

“Dreamed It is a carefully crafted tale of murder and the paranormal with a unique protagonist in the person of dream-walker and amateur sleuth Baxley Powell.” Diane A.S. Stuckart, NYT bestselling author (as Ali Brandon) of the Black Cat Bookshop Mystery series “Dreamed It is a suspenseful page-turner that you won’t be able to put down.” –Nancy J Cohen, Author of the Bad Hair Day mysteries

“The very first paragraph flings you into the paranormal subplot of Dreamed It. Baxley and her boyfriend, Mayes, wake up after an extended dreamwalk that neither remembers taking. Who did this to them and why? Baxley’s powerful otherworld contact, Rose, is not answering and cannot be found. Mayes is preparing to return home from his visit when Baxley is called into work. A suitcase with a body in it has been found. Mayes knows of the Georgia cases relating to a serial killer known as the Suitcase Killer and requests permission from his sheriff to stay and assist. The impetus to solve the case ratchets up when a local woman goes missing. Dreamed It continues Baxley’s story as she learns her dreamwalking powers and her heart. This is a well written series that has continued to surprise and engage from the very first book. I can’t wait for more stories.” –Pat Dupuy as seen on Goodreads

“This is a wonderful series. The paranormal aspect is written well and captivates you from the get-go. The characters are interesting and engaging. This latest offering is one you won’t be able to put down! I voluntarily reviewed an advance reader copy of this book.”—Karen Kenyon on Goodreads

“This is one of my favorite series. The author has created dimensional characters that I have come to care deeply about. I find myself thinking about Baxley, Sam, Baxley’s daughter Larissa, and all the secondary characters when I’m not reading the books. Another thing I like about this is, the paranormal aspects are plausible. It requires very little suspension of disbelief to get caught up in Bax and Sam’s dreamwalks, or in Bax’s conversations with the dead people she delivers messages to, or the crime victims she helps. There is a good balance of mystery, interpersonal relationships, day-to-day living, and romance. Wherever Baxley is, is a place I want to be. I am always pleased to see a new Dreamwalker mystery, and this one did not disappoint. I am enjoying watching Bax’s and Sam’s relationship progress, and seeing Bax settle into her powers I’m envious of her support team, and her relationship with 10-year-old Larissa. I appreciate how she treats Larissa like a person, giving her a safe place to grow up, but not sugarcoating the realities of life. Baxley is someone I wish I could hang out with. I hope this is a long-running series.” – Denise Zendel on Goodreads

“I very much enjoy this series. It is just enough “out there” while still being grounded in a familiar reality. The characters are developing nicely (believably) with each story. This one was particularly creepy with so many women being the victims and the manner of their deaths. The final countdown was hair raising.” –Elizabeth Dodd on Goodreads

Confound It


Series: Dreamwalker Mystery Book 5
Publisher: Camel Press
Release Date: June 1, 2018
Genre: Paranormal Mystery
Available Formats: eBook and Print
While hosting out-of-town guests at her Georgia home, Dreamwalker Baxley Powell is called upon to help investigate a suspicious fire. One of her guests, close friend and fellow dreamwalker Deputy Sam Mayes, accompanies her to the scene.

A meth cook is dead, and when Baxley visits her beyond the Veil of Life, she determines that the woman was murdered. Baxley pities Mandy Patterson, a single mother with aspirations for her teenage son Doodle. Unconcerned about the death of a criminal, the authorities pursue the drug-supply chain angle. Baxley worries about Doodle and vows to find out who killed his mother.

As the case grows more baffling, Baxley struggles against her attraction to Sam. Although her husband is missing and declared dead, she does not feel free to love again until she is sure of his fate.

Two suspects have the strongest motive, but Baxley has reason to believe they are pawns in a deeper game. And unless she can stop them, the world will never be the same.

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Excerpt

© Copyright 2018 – Maggie Toussaint
Wayne turned from the fire chief. “Virg and Ronnie, you guys go next door and find out who lived here.”

“Hold up,” Ronnie said. “I already know. The Pig Woman.”

Wayne shook his head. “What?”

“The Pig Woman. Jerk next door must’ve filed half a dozen complaints about her blasted pigs.”

“The woman with the pot bellied pigs?”

“That’s the one.”

“What’s her name?”

“Mandy Patterson.”

Wayne studied the ground a moment. “It’s coming back to me now. Mandy’s pigs turned up their noses at their pig-chow dinners, escaped under the fence, and got into the dog-food bag on the neighbor’s back porch. The guy nearly had an aneurism telling you about it, right?”

“Yep. Good ole Ricky Dixon. He’s wound tight, that’s for sure. If his wife wasn’t bedridden, he’d be a permanent bachelor because no woman would put up with his sh—, uh, stuff.”

“Head over there anyway. I want a statement from him about what he may have heard or seen. I want to know where those pigs are. Take Powell with you so I know if he’s lying.”

He was sending me away from the scene? I didn’t want him to think I couldn’t do my job. I pushed away from Mayes’ protective arm. “I can do it,” I said. “I needed a moment to prepare for seeing the body.”

Wayne snorted. “Sometimes I forget you’re a chick, Powell, but I can read you like a fast-food menu. This is the best use of your time. Dixon is important. He’s either a witness or a suspect, and I need your take on what he says.”

His words didn’t ring quite true. My spine stiffened. “I said I can do it.”

“Sure you can, but Mayes is a cop. He’s seen burn victims before. He’ll assist me because he wants in on the case. With the fire department’s approval, I’ll collect one or two personal items belonging to the victim, and you can go inside the place once we remove the corpse. Right now, I need you next door with my guys.”

Crap. I was being sent away on the “B” team. Simultaneously, Mayes had been promoted from spectator to “A” team. Good ole boy networks never died.

Though my pride smarted, I couldn’t deny I was glad to be granted a respite on the viewing. Wayne was doing me a favor, so I should hush and be gracious about it.

“Virg, let’s get that statement stat,” the sheriff said.

“Roger that, boss man.” Virg cocked his head at me. “You ready?”

I nodded and gathered my thoughts. I might not like being sent away, but I would do my assignment. As a police consultant, I needed to let my abilities be tasked however the sheriff deemed fit. Didn’t matter about the temporary demotion, I’d do my job. I would get justice for this victim.

“If this guy doesn’t cooperate, I’ll light him up with my Taser,” Virg announced as we trudged down the dirt road to the neighbor’s home.

Ronnie laughed, an affable giggle with a sinister twist. “Go git ’em, Virg.”

Having been on the wrong end of Virg’s Taser before, I didn’t wish that experience on anyone. “You will not. The object is to gather information, not have this man sue the sheriff’s office. If he won’t talk to you, I want a crack at him.”

“No way he’s gonna talk to you. I’m telling you. This man’s crazier than a sprayed roach.”

The Trouble With Cupid


Publisher: KaliOka Press
Release Date: February 14, 2018
Genre: Mystery
Available Formats: eBook
Digital: ASIN: B079989CP6

Fun-sized bites of Trouble, Cat Detective! All proceeds from the sale of THE TROUBLE WITH CUPID will be donated to Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. The famous black cat detective from Wetumpka, Alabama is at it again in this collection of sometimes poignant, often amusing short mystery tales. Bestselling authors Carolyn Haines and Laura Benedict lead the lineup with the sassy “Calling All Cupids” and the sweet “Of Mice and Munchkins,” followed by Claire Matturro’s heartwarming contribution, “The Madonna in the Garden.” With additional stories by eight other authors, including critically acclaimed veterans and exciting new talents, The Trouble with Cupid is a delightful offering of wicked fun for anyone who loves mysteries, cats, and a touch of romance.

Authors: Laura Benedict, Carolyn Haines, Greg Herren, Michelle Broussard Honick, Eve Osborne, Fran Roberts, Nancy Sartor, Maggie Toussaint, Lisa Wysocky, Claire Matturro, and Jaden Terrell.

The Trouble books are a multi-author coalition published by KaliOka Press with each mystery novel featuring Trouble, the black cat detective. All the full-length mysteries are available in e-format and print.

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Excerpt

© Copyright 2018 – Maggie Toussaint

An excerpt from Maggie’s short story “Trouble with Horses”

My hands shook during the drive down the fence-lined lane to the big house and barn. The wonderful scent of horse coming through my van’s windows helped my frayed nerves. True confession time. I’m River Holloway and I’d contracted this catering job against my better judgment.

Pete Merrick broke my heart a year ago when he merged his security company with another and moved across the country. He knew my ailing mother depended on my care, knew I couldn’t leave her behind. At first, he called when he could, but his job took over his life. Three months ago, he became CEO of North Merrick Security Systems. Not that I’d kept tabs on him after he dumped me.

Was I ready to see my ex again? Enough time had passed that I should’ve moved on, but I’d been trapped in that tween place of anger and brokenness. I turned down this Valentine’s Day catering job, three times to be precise, until Pete offered an exorbitant rate. I hated that money trumped my pride, but my brother stole the mayor’s car after our mom’s funeral last month. Now he needed a lawyer and bail money. I was his only hope.

“River.” At the sound of Pete’s voice, my arms tightened instinctively around the marvelous paint. It’d been forever since I’d been near horses, but I longed to have one, and this gentle giant stole my heart at first glance. The affection seemed mutual, which is more than I could say for the man standing behind me.

His corporate dinner for six was prepped in my van, but my wafer-thin composure suddenly needed a pep talk. Pete chose work. He didn’t choose you. My eyes misted at the heartache these decisions still wrought, until I shoved the emotional chaos out of my mind and revisited my priorities. This isn’t about him or me. This is about earning the money to help my brother. Mom always said to try your wings and fly. This is me flapping my wings. This is me helping my brother.

“River,” Pete said again.

I could do this. With a final pat, I released the horse and turned around, my gaze hungry for the sight of him. From his dark hair tamed into submission, to the tailored suit that flattered his broad shoulders and narrow waist, I was captivated. His gem green eyes radiated strong emotion that stirred up a swarm of butterflies in my belly. Would he try to mend fences? Would I let him?

“Hello, Pete.” I cringed inwardly at how wooden my voice sounded.

He stopped a few steps short of me. “It’s great to see you again, River. You look amazing.” My hands automatically flew to my hair, which had been perfectly confined in a clip before I had been drawn to this powerful gelding. Now, loose tendrils dangled in my line of sight. Not exactly the polished image I planned to present to my ex-boyfriend.

I smoothed them in place and dashed the horse hair from my jacket. I recited the lines I’d rehearsed on the three-hour drive west. “Thank you for the opportunity to cater your executive retreat. I hope you’re pleased with Holloway Catering.”

His eyes narrowed, and I picked up the black cat for moral support. “This is Trouble.”

He gave a lopsided smile. “It sure is.”

I frowned. “Have you met before?”

“I’m not talking about the cat. I’ve missed you, River.” He stopped calling two months after he left. Just stopped. I left three unreturned messages before I gave up on him. How was I to believe a word coming out of his mouth? Time to remind him of the ground rules.

“I agreed to take this job if we kept things on a professional basis.”

His easy smile faltered as a cab stopped in the circular driveway. He gestured toward the mansion. “As you wish. Dinner is to be served at five. Follow the drive around to the kitchen. I’ll have my security team unload the van for you. I hope you still like mysteries because after the meal, I need your help with one.” He was gone before I could object.

Lindsey and Ike Mysteries


Series: Lindsey & Ike Novella Series, Anthology
Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
Release Date: Nov 14, 2017
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Available Formats: eBook, eBook and Print
Digital: 9780996770668
Hardcover: 9780983361404
In this three-novella anthology, an amateur sleuth and her dog return home to a town of secrets … and murder.

“Really, Truly Dead”
Lindsey McKay has no intention of being Sheriff Ike Harper’s girlfriend when she returns home with her dog to bail out the family newspaper, but Ike has his eye on her. The murder of a local judge proves to be a boon for the newspaper, but the bad news hits when her father’s arrested for the crime. Will saving her father’s life cost Lindsey hers?

“Turtle Tribbles”
The Turtle Girl, a college intern named Selma Crowley, begs newspaper editor Lindsey McKay to write about the theft of turtle eggs from their nests. Lindsey agrees but asks for more proof. Selma disappears and is soon found dead. Lindsey blames herself because she demanded concrete proof, so she noses into Sheriff Ike Harper’s investigation. Can she discover the truth before time runs out?

“Dead Men Tell No Tales”
Newspaper editor Lindsey McKay’s small town is rocked when a suspicious hunting accident proves to be premeditated murder. Sheriff Ike Harper vows to get his man and keep Lindsey safe. Only, the more Lindsey and Ike dig, the more questions they uncover. People aren’t what they seem. If only a dead man could tell tales.

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Dead Men Tell No Tales


Series: Lindsey & Ike Romantic Mystery, Book 3
Publisher: Muddle House Publishing
Release Date: Nov 2017
Genre: Cozy Mystery
Available Formats: eBook
Digital: 9780996770651
In this third installment of the Lindsey & Ike romantic mystery novella series, things don’t add up after a suspicious hunting accident. The more Sheriff Ike Harper and newspaper editor Lindsey McKay dig, the more questions they find. Will a dead man tell tales?

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Excerpt

Excerpt

© Copyright 2012 – Maggie Toussaint

Chapter 1

Despite the distant rumble of thunder, the first dinner in our new home on River Road was amazing. I couldn’t stop smiling at Ike and his eight year old son Trent. Sure, we’d grilled burgers and hot dogs here before, but tonight everything tasted extra special.

I’m Lindsey McKay, editor of the Gazette, Danville, Georgia’s, weekly newspaper. Sheriff Ike Harper is my partner in housing and love. He’d been burned in matrimony once so we were trying a less traditional route with our nearly nine-month romance. We’d joined our names on a property deed and called it good.

In principle, I agreed with Ike. A piece of paper saying we were married wasn’t a guarantee of happiness, but I also valued tradition. Living in the moment was challenging.

Forks clanked on plates, drawing me from my musings. I passed the platter of grilled meat since the baked beans and watermelon bowls were empty. “Seconds?”

Trent dug in like he hadn’t eaten in a week. Ike settled back in his seat, a goofy smile on his face. “We should’ve done this months ago.”

We’d struggled with our commitment level this summer, or so I’d thought. Turned out we had communication and processing issues. Since summer had turned to fall, I’d been learning to speak guy, and he’d been doing his best to make me happy. How was it possible to be deliriously happy and yet worried that I might mess it up?

“What?” Ike said. “You scowled.”

“I did? Sorry. Thinking of something else.”

“You must not like that something else.”

“It’s no big deal,” I said, hoping he’d let it drop.

Lucky for me, Trent distracted his dad with a question about football tryouts, and less than five minutes later, an emergency call came in for Ike. Hunting accident.

After Ike left, I thought how my role had shifted. Before, I’d chased cops to a scene to get the story for the paper. Now I lived with a cop and had more information than I could print. Best of all, I chose to stay home with Trent when these afterhours calls occurred.

From the incident details I overheard, one man accidentally shot the other in the swamp when he heard a noise. I didn’t know the name of the shooter yet, but Dispatch mentioned he seemed broken up about the tragedy.

The victim, John Starling, tended bar at Fiddler’s at the north end of the county. I’d met him once when he came into the office to buy a newspaper, not long after he moved here this spring.

Time flew as Trent and I played cards, bathed, and got ready for bed. Ike returned in time to tuck his son in for the night. “Was it bad?” I asked when we were cozied up on the sunporch sofa.

He drew me into his arms. “Seemed straightforward. Both men were hog hunting in the swamp. Neither was aware of the other. Sonny Mowrey shot the bartender, thinking he was a hog. Mowrey was so upset he could barely hold it together to give his statement.”

“I’ve shot a gun before, at targets mind you, but I’ve never shot a person, and I hope it never came to that. I’d be a wreck too.”

“Seemed cut and dried to me. Accident all the way.”

An accident. Many people today thought “accident” meant no one was responsible. Surely that wasn’t the case for a human life. “Will Mowrey face charges for killing someone?”

“I’m running his fingerprints right now, something he isn’t happy about.”

“Why? He said he shot the guy.”

“Learned this lesson a long time ago. Tie up loose ends or they’ll bite you in the butt. Whatever happened out there, I’ll get to the bottom of it. It’s always best to follow procedure.”

“I want to see the police report tomorrow.”

He nuzzled my neck. “I expected no less, Madame of the News.”

I swatted him playfully, enjoying his attention. “You make me sound like something dirty.”

“You make me think wild thoughts.” His hands drifted lower. “How about we take ourselves up to our bedroom and let the world take care of itself?”

“Sounds good, but I have one more question.”

Ike groaned. “What is it?”

“Where was the bullet hole?”

“Straight through the heart. Two kill shots.”

Swamp hogs came in all sizes and were ferocious. You did not want to be charged by one, so you made sure you aimed at the right spot. “A person is taller than a hog.”

“So?”

“Shouldn’t Mr. Mowrey have aimed lower if he was hog hunting?”

“Good observation, but these people barely knew each other. Let’s not look for murders. The simplest explanation is usually the best.”

“I’m not looking for anything. My mind went there on its own.”

He studied me for a long moment. “You have good instincts, Linds, and I’ve learned to trust them. We’ll find out the angle of the shots at autopsy. Now, can we let the dead sleep long enough for us to have some privacy?”

I pulled free of his embrace and rose. “Race ya.”

Chapter 2

Cousin Janey, my best friend and sleuthing buddy, stopped by my office first thing in the morning. Her face glowed from all the time she was spending with Junior Curtis, so things between her and the bail bondsman must be going strong. “I heard.”

Though I was pretty sure I knew where she was headed, I couldn’t resist teasing her. “About what? The first night Ike and I spent in our home?”

She slouched in a guest chair and propped her sandal-clad feet on my desk. “Well, that too. Nothing like buying property to cement a relationship. Or destroy it.”

Janey was a Realtor. She’d seen it all with the clients she’d chauffeured around in hopes of a sale. “We’re going for cementing our relationship. Don’t jinx us.”

“Got it, but you guys are golden. With home ownership, you and Ike are legally bound. You’re as good as married now.”

“Keep that on the down low. Ike’s scared to death of the M-word.”

“At least you got a commitment out of him. My guy goes home every night. No hint of a ring or a future.”

“Junior makes you happy, and he lights up when you enter the room,” I said. “I’m glad he turned out to be a nice guy.”

“Me too. If he’d been with the mob as rumored, I’d be in deep trouble by now because I can’t stay away from him. He’s got this magnetic pull.”

I chuckled. “They’re called pheromones, Cous, and you are hooked on his.”

Janey took her time answering, as if she were considering the matter at great length. “Junior’s all-consuming. We talk, we make out, we, you know, and then he goes home. Both of us want that so we don’t have to explain that he slept over to my daughter or to my ex.”

“Y’all are finding your way. It’ll work out.”

“I suppose, but I didn’t come over to talk about either of our relationships. I heard about Sonny Mowrey. I know him.”

My curiosity spiked, and I leaned forward. “You do?”

She nodded. “I sold Sonny and Deena that foreclosure house out on the point a few years ago.”

I grabbed a notepad and a pen, eager to take notes. “What can you tell me about them? Where’d they come from?”

“They were vague about their hometown, but they moved here from Florida. Just wanted a place on the water that was off the grid.”

“Lot of people come here for that reason. Who’d they get their loan through?”

“No loan. They paid cash.”

Even though my folks gave us a good price on the house, Ike and I had to get a mortgage to buy this place. “Cash? For a house?”

“It was an easy sale and a quick closing. They offered on the house and owned it less than a week later. They told the people they could leave any furniture they didn’t want in the house. First I ever heard of anyone doing that.”

The furniture part wasn’t too weird. Mom and Dad left a lot I still needed to go through. But we were family. “Weren’t you suspicious?”

“I needed the money,” Janey said. “But now, I’m wondering if I should mention it to Ike.”

“Ike already believes I read murder into every 9-1-1 call. Are you thinking Sonny Mowrey didn’t have an accident? That he meant to kill John Starling?”

“Something is strange about the Mowreys. Both of them had short bleached blonde hair when they moved here. Now Sonny’s totally dark-haired with a full beard and a ponytail. Deena’s sporting a pink doo at the moment. I don’t know how she walks with so many rings on her toes. Have you ever worn a toe ring?”

“Nope.”

“Me neither. What’s wrong with us?”

I shrugged. “I dunno. Seems like with our racy ancestress, we’d be on the forefront of every trend. Guess the Episcopalian upbringing trumps the Beulah McKay exhibitionist genetics.”

“Speak for yourself. I’ve been letting my inner exhibitionist have free rein lately. It’s more fun, and Junior likes it.”

I did not want to know what they were up to at her place in the deep dark of night. “Enough about us. Can you think of any reason Sonny Mowrey might’ve shot John Starling?”

“Well. The obvious thing is two men and one woman.”

“Deena came between them?”

“Not saying she did. You asked if there was any reason. Deena seemed very flirty and . . . accessible when she was my client.”

“She flirted with you?”

“She turned on the charm everywhere we went. I always had the sense she was working a room when we hit a restaurant or the Bar and Grill for lunch.”

“Extroverted wife. Introverted husband.” I weighed the ideas in each hand. Given Janey’s observations, I had no trouble picturing a love triangle. “What was Sonny’s response?”

“He didn’t react to her flirting, but he always sat beside her in the back of my car.”

“Doesn’t sound like he’d go into a killing rage if she strayed. Do you ever see them out and about in town?”

Janey studied the ceiling for a moment. “I waved to them at last year’s Fall Festival, but I was in the kid area with CeeCee. They didn’t wade through the screaming children to speak to me, and I couldn’t leave my daughter there alone to go speak to them.”

“So they keep to themselves. They haven’t been in trouble with the law since I moved back home last fall. I ran their name through our archive and there’s never been anything in the paper about them. Then it occurred to me that I was looking in the wrong place. I searched for their names online. You know what I found?”

Janey grabbed my orange stress relief ball, squeezed it several times, and returned it to my desk. “What?”

“Nothing. I even checked the Census listing. I was stunned. They should have some digital footprint other than property ownership. Is Sonny a nickname or his legal name?”

“It was the name he signed on the contract and the name on his Florida driver’s license.”

“I wonder if Ike knows about this,” I mused, thinking out loud.

“He doesn’t like you nosing around in his cases.”

“I’m fact finding for my feature story. He can chase all the bad guys he wants. I want nothing to do with that end of things.”

“I’m sure he’ll discover this much on his own,” Janey said. “How come there’s no other information on the Mowreys?”

“Perhaps they’re not newsworthy people. If not for Aunt Fay’s membership in the DAR and her property deed, I couldn’t find her online. I checked.”

“Get real. The Mowreys are our age. Look up any late twenty-something online and you get a ton of hits from the search engine. Something’s fishy about this duo.”

“I’m getting that sense myself. What about the bartender? You know John Starling?”

“He asked me out once. I was attending a high school classmate’s birthday party at his bar not two months ago.”

“Did you do it?” I reached for the stress relief ball and massaged it absently.

“Nah. No chemistry. After my divorce, I thought I wouldn’t date again. I was devoting myself to being the best Mama ever.”

“And look at you now. How do you explain Junior to your daughter?”

“I just say we’re seeing each other. CeeCee doesn’t have a problem with it one way or another.”

“And your ex?”

“He’s steamed about Junior, but he’s keeping his mouth shut. Junior’s badass reputation is serving me well.”

“My, how the tide has turned.”

We were grinning at each other like silly fools when the front door burst open. I heard my assistant’s voice go from placating to loud in the lobby. Ellen is a good gatekeeper, and she keeps the public at bay when I’m busy. She only allows people back if they’re blood relatives, Ike, or someone we’re interviewing for our next paper.

A buxom woman appeared in my doorway. She was pretty in an overdone, big pink hair and fake eyelashes kind of way. The short dress, bare legs, and high heels made a feminine statement. A closer look revealed shiny rings on her toes.

Deena Mowrey had come to me. Oh, joy.