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“Okay, but only because you almost died and all yesterday,” John Richard said.

I rolled my eyes. I’d already heard a lecture from Delia reminding me that she didn’t want mine to be one of the ghosts she helped cross over this weekend.

I’d had to remind her that I didn’t particularly want that, either.

“Can you look up a divorce record for me?” I asked John Richard and gave him Haywood’s name. “The wife’s name is possibly Twilabeth Morgan.”

“Hold on a sec.” I heard tapping in the background. Then he said, “Married in May of ’eighty-seven. Divorced in November of ’eighty-seven.”

Mayor Ramelle had mentioned the marriage had been brief. She hadn’t been kidding.

Twenty-eight years ago, though . . . “Can you do me another favor?”

There was silence on the line.

“Oh, come on, John Richard.” I coughed dramatically, which wasn’t too difficult considering I’d been hacking since being pulled out of the fire. “I almost died, remember?”

“Okay,” he said, dragging out the word. “But don’t breathe a word of this to Caleb. You know how he gets about personal favors on company time.”

“Don’t you worry none about him,” I said. Caleb was all bark and no bite. “Can you look up the birth certificate for Avery Bryan? She might have been born Avery Morgan or Avery Dodd. She’s twenty-seven and possibly the daughter of Twilabeth and Haywood.”

“It’s going to take me a minute. Can I call you back?” he asked.

“Yep. Thank you.” I hung up and found Dylan and Delia staring at me. “What?”

“His daughter?” Dylan said.

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.” I stuck out my thumb for example number one. “It explains why Haywood was so protective when your mama tore into her.” I added my pointy finger. “It explains why she was grieving after his death.” Another finger. “Why she had an invitation to the party—Haywood invited her.” Another finger. “It’s why his ghost was watching over her at the Silly Goose.” I thought of the way Hyacinth had treated Avery at the Goose and shared it with the two of them. “Hyacinth must know she’s Haywood’s daughter, and isn’t too happy about it.”

Suddenly, I was very cranky with Haywood for lying to me when I asked him about Avery yesterday. He’d known her, all right.

“If it’s true that Avery is his child,” Delia said, “why didn’t he tell anyone that he had a daughter? Haywood has lived in this town all his life, and I never heard a word about a daughter.”

“I never heard anything, either,” Dylan added.

The phone rang, and I quickly answered it.

John Richard Baldwin said, “Avery Lee Morgan, born May of ’eighty-eight to Twilabeth Morgan. No daddy listed. And I’ll do you one better on account of you coughing up a lung. At age twenty-four, Avery Morgan married Dale Bryan and divorced him last year.”

That explained her differing name perfectly. “Thank you, John Richard. I owe you big-time.”

“You know what I want,” he said solemnly.

What he wanted was a date with Hitching Post’s newest resident, Gabi Greenleigh, who was currently living in the apartment above my mama’s chapel. Gabi was still nursing a broken heart after a particularly nasty breakup, however, and I wasn’t pushing her into dating. Not yet. “Keep dreaming.”

“So much for owing me,” he grumped and hung up.

“Twilabeth is Avery’s mama, but there’s no daddy listed on the birth certificate,” I shared with Delia and Dylan. “By my math, she’d have to have been conceived near the end of her parents’ short-lived marriage. September or October.”

Delia closed the laptop. “You think it’s possible Haywood didn’t know about her?”

Before I could answer, Dylan chimed in. “You think it’s possible that’s what
he
was being blackmailed about? You just told us how Avery said she’d been dragged into this situation when Haywood got a letter.”

I said, “I don’t know what to think, but if she is his daughter, we’ve got a bigger issue.”

Looking drawn and tired, Dylan dropped his head back on the sofa. “What’s that?”

“Avery would now be the rightful heir of the Ezekiel mansion. And if someone killed Haywood over that fact, then she could be in danger, too.”

Chapter Fifteen

A
n hour later, Dylan went to work and Delia left Boo with me while she went off to the Pig to pick up some chili fixin’s for supper. After being constantly surrounded by people for the past couple of days, the sudden silence seemed unnatural.

Boo followed me as I went into the kitchen for another cup of tea, his tiny toenails clacking on the wooden floor. I was dismayed at how slowly I moved.

As much as I didn’t want to worry anyone, I had to admit—at least to myself—that I wasn’t well. My chest ached, breathing proper was a bit of a struggle, and I couldn’t shake a rib-rattling cough.

I didn’t like it.

Not the symptoms so much as feeling weak.

Which was why when my daddy walked through the back door, I had never been happier to see the man in all my life.

He gave me a big bear hug, and I didn’t mind at all when he held on just a little bit longer than usual. When he finally let go, he said, “I brought your bike back, but the cupcakes you left at the shop didn’t make the trip.”

“Why not?” I asked.

He grinned like a mischievous little boy. “Ainsley and I ate them for breakfast. They’re damn fine with a hot cup of coffee. Don’t tell your mama. She’d get all fired up that I didn’t save one for her.”

“I won’t tell,” I promised.

“And I brought this.” He pulled an apricot-colored potion bottle from his coat pocket and held it out. “Special delivery.”

My hand closed around the warm glass. I tugged the stopper and sniffed, picking up the predominant scent of New England aster, which was an excellent choice to soothe my lungs. I drank the potion, feeling its effects almost immediately. The pain in my chest eased, and my throat stopped aching. I drew in a deep breath, held it, and marveled at the magic that was in my life.

“Better?” he asked.

“Better. Thanks, Daddy.”

He dropped a kiss on top of my head. “So help me God, if I find out who did this to you . . .”

“You’ll have to get in line,” I said, smiling.

“Any leads yet?” He bent and picked up Boo, who then bathed Daddy’s chin in kisses.

“Not really. Partial sneaker footprints were found outside the kitchen windows at the Ezekiel house that support the theory someone had been out there looking inside. Spying on Mr. Butterbaugh and me. A deputy took casts as evidence. The kitchen was full of fingerprints because of the party the night before and it’ll be weeks before that’s all sorted out.”

Still holding Boo, he leaned against the countertop. Quietly, he said, “I’m guessing the fire had to do with you nosing into Haywood Dodd’s murder?”

The kettle began to whistle. “We don’t know why the fire was started yet,” I evaded.

“Carly Bell.”

“Daddy.”

Shaking his head, he said, “You’re as stubborn as your mama. Where was Patricia when the fire started?”

I pulled the kettle from the burner. “Dylan had just dropped her off at Hyacinth Foster’s home. Apparently Patricia wanted to check on her in light of Haywood’s passing. There wouldn’t have been time enough for her to get to the mansion and start the fire. Besides, when have you ever known her to wear sneakers in public?”

“I’ve been thinking. Have you ever considered that Hyacinth and Patricia could be in cahoots?”

I couldn’t help but smile.

Boo’s round black eyes were drifting closed as my father rhythmically rubbed his head. “What’s so amusing?” he asked.

“The way you say cahoots. Cah . . .
hoots
. Almost like a sneeze. Say it again.” I pressed my hands together in a praying gesture. “Please?”

Stone-faced, he didn’t so much as blink. “Carly.”

“Daddy,” I echoed, using the same no-nonsense tone.

“You have to at least acknowledge the possibility the two are . . .”

Ever hopeful, I lifted my eyebrows.

“. . . working together.”

Let down, I said, “It’s something to consider.” Any or all of the Harpies could have worked together to kill Haywood. Tag-teaming, as it were. I needed to find out which one of them knew Haywood was Rupert’s heir. That would narrow down suspects in a hurry. Because of my conversation with the Kirbys yesterday, I could already cross Idella off that list. That left Patricia, Hyacinth, and Mayor Ramelle. They could all easily lie to my face, but they couldn’t keep me from reading their energies. It always told the truth. “Tea?” I held up the kettle.

“No, thanks. I need to get back to the shop to relieve Ainsley. She has to pick up the Clingons.” He put Boo on the floor and reached into his back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I do want to show you something before I go. Take a look.”

I set the kettle back down and picked up the paper. It was a copy of an official-looking letter from a genetics company. It was dated a week ago.

Daddy said, “I found it in the stack of papers you photocopied at Haywood’s house. A DNA paternity report. It was the only thing that jumped out as interesting in that entire pile.”

Wide-eyed, I read it quickly. With ninety-nine point ninety-nine percent certainty Tyson Ezekiel was the father of Haywood Dodd. “Who’s Tyson Ezekiel? Is that Rupert’s son?”

“I believe so.”

“How is that possible?” I asked. “Mr. Dunwoody said Tyson had been at war when Haywood would have been conceived. It doesn’t make sense.”

“I can’t explain it, but science confirmed it.” Daddy gave me another hug. “I have to get going. You’ll be okay here on your own?”

“I’ve got Boo.”

The little dog wagged his stumpy tail.

“In that case, call if you need anything. I’ll be at the shop until closing. Oh, and I’m waiting on some return calls about Moriah Booth Priddy. I should know something by the end of the day.”

Between Daddy and Mayor Ramelle, I should have Moriah’s address by nightfall. I started planning ahead for a road trip tomorrow.

Setting my mug down, I walked him to the door. “Thanks again. For everything.”

He gave me a nod and headed out into the sunny afternoon. When he was halfway down the driveway, he looked back, lifted a hand in a good-bye wave, and pretended to sneeze. “Cahoots!”

I laughed and laughed. He blew me a kiss, then turned out of sight.

When I went back into the house, Virgil was floating in the kitchen.

Neither Boo nor the cats were anywhere to be seen. Turned out Boo was just as freaked out by the ghosts as Roly and Poly.

When Virgil spotted me, he immediately backed up, paused, and tapped his wrist with his index finger, mimicking pointing at a watch.

“I haven’t forgotten about going to get Louella,” I reassured him, though I wanted to forget. “Give me a minute, and I’ll be ready to go.”

I went about brushing my teeth and hair and trying to make myself look presentable. I changed out of flannel pajamas into jeans and a sweatshirt, grabbed one of Dylan’s ball caps, and skipped any makeup at all except for lip balm. I threw treats to the cats and Boo, who were under the bed, and left a note for Delia telling her where I’d gone off to.

I was searching for a spare set of sunglasses—my other pair had been lost in the fire—when my phone rang. It was Dylan’s number at the sheriff’s office.

“How’re you feeling, Care Bear?” he asked when I answered.

“Much better. My daddy came by with a potion just a few minutes ago. And he also brought a DNA report.” I told him all about it. “So, I guess we can now erase any doubt that Haywood was the heir to the house. We just have to uncover who knew it, too, so we can figure out who may have killed him over it.”

“Have you
deduced
a way to go about getting that information?”

I smiled. “I thought I’d ask each remaining Harpie point-blank and read the energy of the answer. It’s how I knew Idella didn’t know about the house.”

“That could work.” He paused. “And I think you should start with my mama. I’ll bring her by tonight for supper. Okay with you? I can pick up some take-out.”

“Delia’s making chili.”

“Sounds delicious!” he said, overly eager.

“You do remember I almost died yesterday, right? I’m not sure my system can handle another shock so soon. And your mama is all kinds of shocking to my system.”