Page 12 of A Jingle of Justice
I ended the thread and said to Brady, “One of Idris’s cookies wasn’t the culprit. Phew.”
“I think the killer put a hex on Tianna to control her,” Fiona whispered.
I shook my head. “I agree with Brady. I think it was someone she knew and trusted.”
Fiona jammed her fists on her slim hips. “Or someone who forced her to eat a bite.” She mimed shoving an imaginary cookie in her mouth and gagging.
I shuddered. “Tianna said she didn’t bake. Her olfactory senses were nil. She wouldn’t have known the cookie contained cyanide.”
“How did she sneak into the shop?” Brady asked.
“Maybe the killer arrived first and didn’t lock the front door,” I replied. “Tianna found that person digging. They fought.”
“That might explain the dirt beneath her fingernails, but I don’t think they tussled,” he said. “Everything on the patio seems as it should. The wrought iron tables and chairs are in place. Nothing has tipped over.”
“You’re right.” I studied the rest of the area. The gnome-adorned fountain was burbling. The new iron fairy statues I’d set out were where I’d placed them.
“And her face is untouched,” Brady said. “No bloody lip. No bruising.”
Fiona said, “Courtney, there’s glitter on Tianna’s cheeks.”
I bent to inspect. “You’re right.”
“Shara,” Fiona said.
I said over my shoulder to Brady, “Fiona noticed something sparkly on Tianna’s face.”
“Why is that significant?” he asked.
“Because Shara Popple, who makes many of the fairy doors and toadstools we sell, was the first to tell me about the treasure, and she is always dusted with glitter. Her special touch for her art is sprinkling them with phosphorescent sparkles so they’ll glow in the dark.”
“You think she did this?”
I glimpsed Tianna again, and tears welled in my eyes. “No. She couldn’t have. Shara is a scaredy cat. She jumps at the slightest provocation. However, when she came in last night, convinced an ogre or evil fairy was chasing her?—”
“There are no such things as evil fairies,” Fiona stated.
“Last night?” Brady said. “You were closed.”
“Yes, but we were setting out holiday items, and she saw the lights on and begged to come in.”
So had Idris Gentry, I recalled, but she worked at one of the courtyard shops, so her appearance made sense.
Brady squinted. “Wouldn’t Shara have needed a key to enter tonight?” he asked.
“Maybe she knew how to pick a lock. It’s not a complex double bolt.”
“Is it possible she saw you set the alarm when you left?”
“No, but she might have seen me disarm it before I let her in.”
“Could they have been working in tandem?”
I gawked at him, processing the question. “Tianna said she didn’t know Shara. She could’ve been lying.” I glanced through the French doors at the main showroom as a memory formed. “Shara touched one of the porcelain bells last night. She might have transferred glitter to it. If Tianna picked it up when she stole in and touched her own cheek, that could explain why there are remnants on her face.”
The chime over the front door jingled.
Seconds later, Officer Redcliff Reddick, a lanky redhead in his thirties, nicknamed Red by Meaghan who was dating him, strode down the ramp to the patio. Two younger officers followed him. Reddick was a good six inches taller than most of the officers in the department. He didn’t tower over Brady, but he did over me. “You guys, secure the perimeter.” He sounded congested. His nose was chafed and red. “Courtney, sheesh. Another one, huh?”
