Page 16 of A Jingle of Justice
“Wow,” Glinda said softly. “How are you holding up, Courtney?”
“I’m so sad for Tianna.”
Lissa shook her head. “Yes, poor thing.”
“Tell us more about the treasure,” Glinda said.
I relayed bits of the story, including my suspicions about Shara and Horace.
“I know Shara.” Meaghan twirled a finger. “She can be sort of kooky. Do you know she wants to travel the US selling her fairy figurines?”
“She’s mentioned it.” I didn’t think a city-to-city effort would garner many sales, but I didn’t deter her. Instead, I’d suggested she open an Etsy account, but she was intimidated by a computer. “I think Horace Elias is the one who is a little out there. I mean, c’mon, his cuckoo clock informed him about the treasure?”
Meaghan snorted.
“Horace. He’s a talented clockmaker, but”—Glinda twirled a finger beside her head—“I’m not sure all the gears in his brain are ticking on full speed.”
Fiona mimicked Glinda’s gesture. I frowned at her. She blushed, clearly getting my message to cool it.
“When Brady and I ran into him last night outside his shop,” I went on, “we noticed his fingers were dirty, maybe from digging the hole. I mentioned it to Officer Reddick, who said he was going to speak with Horace. I wonder if he has.”
Meaghan hitched a shoulder. “Got me.”
“Glinda,” I said, “Horace told me you and he have spoken about your pirate ancestry, which is why he believed the story about the treasure was real.”
“We did. He was fascinated.” Using her hands, she painted a picture as she spoke. “As I said to you previously, my ancestors weren’t the bad kind of pirates. I mean, yes, they were privateers, but they didn’t kill a soul, unlike Hippolyte Bouchard, a French-born Argentine who targeted Spanish settlements and ships. Bouchard alleged the Argentine government commissioned him to attack, officially making him a privateer. But I don’t equate the two.” She wagged her head. “Pirates hurt people. Privateers don’t.”
Lissa said, “Did you know Robert Louis Stevenson’sTreasure Islandwas inspired by the Monterey Peninsula? Point Lobos, specifically.”
“Fascinating,” Glinda murmured. “And now, if you all don’t mind, I simply can’t help myself.” She opened the bakery box, withdrew a Christmas bun, and bit into it. Marzipan stuck to her lip. She licked it off. “Delicious. The new baker they have at Sweet Treats is a keeper. Do you know her name?”
“Idris,” I said. “She’s very nice.”
Thinking of her made me wonder whether the killer had personally baked the cookie Tianna ate or had purchased it at Sweet Treats. If purchased, how would the killer have applied the poison?
“Back to Tianna,” Glinda said. “She believed she had a legal entitlement to whatever lay beneath the courtyard property?”
“Yes.” I flashed on the moment when Tianna claimed she hadancestral rights.Ferguson Moss had taunted her, saying she wouldn’t have rights if he found the treasure first. What if he came to the shop and dug the hole and when Tianna showed up, he killed her? Except she had dirt under her fingernails, so she must have begun digging the hole before him. “Lissa . . .” I recapped Tianna’s allegation. “What do you know about ancestral rights?”
“Establishing them relies on documents proving ownership. You know what I mean. Property deeds. Wills. Lineage.” She tapped the list on her fingertips. “Did she present any of those?”
“No. She mentioned the term in passing.” The wordpassingcaught me up and my insides wrenched with grief. Tianna had passed. Died. Right here. “Even if she could have proven her ancestors owned the property the courtyard is built on, it wouldn’t have mattered, right? There’s a new owner. Logan Langford.”
“Good point,” Meaghan said.
“Genealogical research,” Lissa went on, “like examining historical land records, could be helpful in identifying generational ownership and how the property was deeded.”
“Which I would find where?” I asked. “At City Hall?”
“At the Monterey County Assessor-Recorder’s Office,” she replied.
Meaghan glimpsed her watch. “I’ve got to run. Enjoy the treats. See you all on Saturday. Bye, Fiona.”
The fairy zipped to her and pecked her on the cheek.
“Before you go,” Lissa said, and eyed me. “Courtney, did you ask her?”
“Ask me what?” Meaghan cocked her head, her gaze suspicious.
