Page 1 of Vows of Murder

Chapter 1

The January business-to-business meeting agenda for South Cove, California, was pretty light. I had volunteered to run the meeting since Darla Taylor, our chairman and owner of the South Cove Winery, was on vacation this week with her boyfriend. I looked down at the list of things we still needed to cover in the last thirty minutes before people would abandon the meeting to open their businesses. I didn’t blame them. My staff members, Judith Dame and Deek Kerr, were both busy helping customers who were wandering through the bookstore and lining up for coffee to get them through a busy day of shopping. Everyone was looking for a magic bullet or perfect system to reframe their New Year’s resolutions.

“The city council wants to let you know that next year, they’re closing Main Street the weekend of Thanksgiving through New Year’s Day. It’s to protect Santa’s workshop. There have been complaints that cars have been parking where Santa’s sleigh and reindeer are supposed to park.” I looked around the room. “They say it’s a safety hazard. This isn’t up for debate here. If you want to complain, call city hall.”

My best friend, Amy Newman-Cross, gave me a dirty look. She would probably be the one fielding those calls. “Call your city council reps instead. I’m sure they’d love to hear from you. And besides, they’ll probably forget to make the change before next Christmas.”

“Closing Main Street makes it hard for people to carry big-ticket items from your store to their cars,” Josh Thomas stated. He ran Antiques by Thomas next door to my bookstore. “I supposeyouexpect everyone to provide delivery service?”

“Not me. The council put this out. I’m just reading what they sent me. Besides, your customers can park behind your store andpick up large items in the alley,” I pointed out. Josh always wanted to complain without looking for an alternative. “Anyway, there are a few more items, but they’re related to the winter festival at the end of the month, so I’ll have Darla send out an email next week. Don’t ignore it, please. One more thing. If you haven’t received your invitation yet, Greg King and I are getting married next Sunday at the La Purísima Mission at three p.m. sharp. Afterward, we’ll have a reception on the grounds as well. Hopefully, the weather will hold out for as long as the bandwants to play.”

Yep, we were finally getting married. The ceremony had been scheduled for June, October, and now January. I just needed Greg’s mom to feel well enough to make the trip this month. If not, we were still getting married. Come hell or high water, as my aunt always said. Maybe saying it aloud was tempting disaster.

“The mission site will be lovely,” added Matty Leaven, the owner of the newest business to South Cove, a jewelry shop. “My husband and I went there just last week to walk around. Of course, we didn’t see the ghost, but it was early. Hopefully, he’ll show up for your festivities. His appearance is supposed tobe a blessing.”

“Hopefully not,” Amy murmured.

Matty turned her head and glared at my friend.

Before she could say anything, I jumped in. “Unless there isanything else?”

Kane Matthews stood and held up a hand. Kane was another new arrival to town. His tall stature, dark hair, and piercing eyes made an impression. Even in a boring meeting. He scanned the room. “I’m sorry to delay closing, but I wanted to invite everyone to our open house at New Hope on Friday. We still have all our holiday decorations up and would love to have our neighbors come and seeour new home.”

The Central California Society for the Advancement of the Mind and Body was a new addition to our town. CCSAMB, or C-scam, as most locals called it, was a group of more than a hundred people who lived on a converted ranch outside of town. They also went by New Hope. Which was much easier to remember. The first thing the group had done when they’d purchased the property was put a stone wall all around the hundred acres. Then they’d added a black gate and guardhouse that was staffed twenty-four seven. Before they’d registeredwith the city as a religious organization, the townsfolk had assumed that a celebrity from Hollywood was moving onto the property.

Instead, now we had our own cult, New Hope. Greg hated it when I called Kane’s organization a cult, but it seemed like the description fit. The women who visited town wore their hair long and in braids or pulled back in a bun. They were always in modest dresses, no pants. And the men wore jeans and button-down shirts. Some wore suits, and I’d seen gun harnesses underneath the expensive jackets. And they had earbuds connected to a wire that ran into their suit jackets. Kane did as well. No religious order I knew had that level of security on their leader. Except maybe the pope. And he didn’t live in a small California coastal community.

The guards surrounded Kane every time he left the property. In fact, two men in suits sat outside the bookstore right now, waiting for their leader to appear. I suspected at least one of the guards was watching the back of the building.

I didn’t know what Kane Matthews had done in the past, but clearly, he thought he was a target now. Which made me question his New Hope organization and its sunshinyMake Your Life A Masterpiecemotto even more.

Today Kane wore an expensive black suit with a purple dress shirt and no tie. He wore a variation of that outfit every time I saw him in town. Or riding in his black Hummer.

The one good thing for me and the bookstore was that the residents of the compound bought a lot of books. Reading must be an approved activity.

I realized Kane had stopped talking while I thought about his cult. I faked a smile. “Oh, how fun. Will there be open house hours?”

He smiled at me, and I felt a chill running through my body. Maybe some women found him attractive, but I never had. He looked cold and mean. “Of course. The gates will be open from eight to eight. I do hope you all will come by. The rumor that we are some sort of cult has been circulating in our lovely town. We want to show you all that we’re good neighbors.”

I hoped I wasn’t blushing since I’d just been thinking that. I scanned the table, but no one else seemed to want to make an announcement. “Okay then, let’s call an end to the monthly meeting.You’ll be getting an email from Darla regarding the winter festival. Please read and respond. And I’ll see you all next month unless I see you before.”

“I’m not sure ‘winter festival’ is an appropriate name based on the lack of snow,” Kane said to the person next to him.

“Okay, we’ll see you all later.” I ignored the comment. I wasn’t going to get into a discussion of Darla’s favorite festival without her here to defend it. Besides, festivals brought in tourists who bought stuff. Kane’s group wasn’t even a business, so I didn’t understand why he attended our meetings. The mayor originally had invited him just to meet the group. Of course, the mayor rarely attended the meetings. A fact that pleased me to no end. I banged the gavel and people started fleeing the store.

Kane Matthews looked around the now almost-empty table and smiled. “I guess I’ll have to fight that battle next year.”

After he’d left, Amy started helping me move tables back to the dining room setup. “He’s so creepy. I can’t believe you stood up to him. Now if you disappear, at least I’ll know the first place to look. That ranch of theirs. But with so many acres, I’m not sure we’ll ever find your body.”

“Stop it. They’re nice people. At least, the women who come into town to shop are nice. He’s just a little off. Maybe it’s the mantle of leadership that has him up in everyone’s faces.” I was trying to be welcoming.

“I heard Kane and Pastor Bill got into it Sunday after services at Diamond Lille’s. The guy came over and challenged Pastor Bill’s beliefs, if the story I heard was true.” Amy moved to another table. “Did Sadiesay anything?”

“No, but I haven’t seen her this week. Since Aunt Jackie retired, I’m only working the morning shifts on Thursday through Sunday—a schedule Greg doesn’t understand. He wants me to work Tuesday through Thursday. That way our weekends are free.” We’d had the discussion again this morning before I’d come in for the meeting.

“Like Greg ever takes a weekend off,” Amy said, supporting exactly what I’d told him during our last discussion. Amy and I had been friends for a long time.

“Being gone on the weekends makes it hard to plan for festivals and impossible to take out the food truck.” I was pretty sure Greg was just grumpy about his mom and her health. She’d had a hard year. Hopefully, now she was in full remission and he could relax a little. When we put off the wedding in October, it was due to her inability to travel. The wedding was beginning to feel like something we had to do rather than something we wanted to do. Weddings could be stressful. One more delay and I was voting for a run to Vegas. “Anyway, I told him we could revisit my schedule after we got back fromthe honeymoon.”

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