Mrs. Twiggs gasped, taking a step back.
Chapter 9
Detective Willows, I presume
We stood outside as we waited for the detective to finish his preliminary investigation. The large man in an ill-fitting brown suit brandishing a detective’s badge, Detective Willows, came out, peeling off his gloves. “And what were you doing here this late at night?” Detective Willows asked Mrs. Twiggs.
“I had a feeling.”
“What do you mean?”
“A premonition.”
“About Mrs. Lund?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Twiggs slid down to the ground, out cold. She had fainted. I stepped close to her mouth, pushing my breath into hers.
Detective Willows lifted her up and carried her into the nearby kitchen. He placed her on a chair. “Mrs. Twiggs, Mrs. Twiggs?” He caressed her cheeks, trying to rouse her. “Mrs. Twiggs. Mrs. Twiggs,” the detective repeated.
She opened her eyes with a flutter. “What happened?”
“You fainted.”
Mrs. Twiggs gazed around the kitchen and realized the detective had carried her in. Her face turned a bright red.
I’ve known Detective Willows for years, as he is a frequent visitor of the Leaf & Page. He is a kind man. A forty-year veteran of the Asheville police department. His wife had begged him for years to retire, but he couldn’t. He loved his job and the people he protected. After his wife died, Detective Willows decided it was time to retire. Until he received the call about the body in the Biltmore.
He smiled at Mrs. Twiggs, which made her blush even more. “Let’s get you a cup of tea and then we can talk.”
I watched Mrs. Twiggs’s aura change colors. She had become quite close to Detective Willows since his wife’s passing. Detective Willows held the delicate teacup and saucer; they looked like a child’s play set in his large hands. He carried his girth with ease and grace. For a man of his size, he was a remarkable dancer, having won many dance contests at the annual Asheville dance competition.
“Beatrice, take a sip.”
Mrs. Twiggs sipped slowly, her eyes popping open at the first taste.
“I’ve fortified it.”
Mrs. Twiggs finished the tea.
“Beatrice, there must be some reason aside from your premonition that you were here today. It doesn’t sound good. Premonition? Vision?” Detective Willows shared the skepticism that many police officers felt for mystical events in Asheville.
“Butch, I’ve always had a sense of foreshadowing, but it’s been stronger as of late. I can’t explain it. I see things before they happen.”
“Next time you see something, call me first. We’ll keep it between us. Let’s get you home. We can discuss this more tomorrow.”
Detective Willows helped Mrs. Twiggs up, leading her to the door. EMTs carried the body, Mrs. Lund, out on a gurney as police investigators roped off the room with yellow caution tape. I stayed close to Mrs. Twiggs, lost in my thoughts. Why would someone want to harm Mrs. Lund? Who was she? We knew little about her. All we knew is that she was a known Civil War expert from the University of Richmond in Virginia and that she was dead.
Chapter 10
A Twitch of the Nose
It was almost dawn when Mrs. Twiggs and I made it back to the Leaf & Page where Abigail and Tracker were waiting. We found them in the kitchen, which showed battle scars of white flour and yellow eggs.
“Sorry, I got into a fight with the mixer,” Abigail said, taking off her batter-stained apron. She appeared as if she had lost the battle. “But I got the scones in the oven. I followed your recipe exactly, Mrs. Twiggs.”
Pixel bounded into the kitchen. “Mm. Me smell blueberry.” He gave a sigh of relief. All was right in Pixel’s world. He leaped onto the kitchen counter to make sure Abigail hadn’t forgotten any ingredients.
“You don’t look so good,” Abigail said to Mrs. Twiggs, who sank down at the kitchen table, her head in her hands.
“I’m fine, dear.”
“Where have you been?” Abigail placed a teacup in front of Mrs. Twiggs.
“There’s been some trouble at the Biltmore.” Mrs. Twiggs paused. “Actually, there’s been a tragedy. Mrs. Lund is dead.”
“The woman from Richmond University? The woman you met yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?” Abigail asked, sitting down across from Mrs. Twiggs.
“I had a premonition she was in grave danger. It told me to go to the storage room.” Mrs. Twiggs teared up. She took a lace handkerchief from her sundress pocket and dabbed her eyes. “We found her dead, a sword through her heart.” And then she started to cry, her shoulders shaking.
I leaped onto the table, rubbing against her and purring. “Mrs. Twiggs, it’s okay.”
“I could have saved her, Terra, maybe if I would have called the police first or gotten there quicker.”
“Mrs. Twiggs, she was gone before your premonition was over.”
“How do you know, Terra? How do you know that?”
“You haven’t learned yet how to read your visions. The stronger you get, the further in the future you will be able to see.”
“I felt I was in that room with her, Terra, when she passed.”
“She reached out to you, Mrs. Twiggs, as she turned from this world to the next.”
After pulling the scones out of the oven, Abigail sat back down across from Mrs. Twiggs. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Twiggs. I’ve got everything ready for today’s opening.” She paused and then said, “By the way, Charlotte’s sleeping upstairs in the extra bedroom.”
“Why? What happened?” Mrs. Twiggs asked.
“She got into a fight with Miss Hartwell and stormed out of the house. She doesn’t know anyone else, so she came here.”
“Oh dear, that’s a shame. What could they have fought about?”
Abigail shrugged. “She didn’t really say. I think she wanted to be around someone her own age. We watched a movie, hung out, and I told her to stay over.”
I ran up the stairs to the second floor until I reached the bedroom. I knocked my head against the door. It was locked. I crouched down to peer under the door but couldn’t see anything from that vantage point. I smelled Charlotte or at least the scent she left. I knocked on the door gently, and then I knocked louder. I don’t know why I felt the need to check to make sure she was in her bed and safe. When she didn’t answer, I shook off the feeling and returned to the kitchen in time to hear Pixel say, “Me help.” He pulled his paw back from the hot scones.
“It’s time to open the shop. Thanks for all your help, dear.” Mrs. Twiggs smiled at Abigail and then went into the front room where she walked over to the picture of Albert. She raised her fingers to her lips, kissed them, and then held her fingers to his lips. He smiled down at her as she opened the front door. She greeted each customer warmly and many of them with a hug while Abigail took orders for morning tea. Mrs. Twiggs maintained her pleasant spirits during the morning rush, but I could tell Mrs. Lund’s death was on her mind.
Around lunchtime, Mrs. Loblolly strolled in, wearing a bright daisy sundress. Lately I had noticed all the ladies of the Biltmore Society dressing similarly. They were donned in bright sundresses, flowered hats, and kitten-heeled sandals. Then I remembered it was late April, almost May Day. The ladies were preparing for the Wiccan holiday.
Mrs. Loblolly hugged Mrs. Twiggs. “How are you, Beatrice? I’m so excited.” She looked around the room and then appeared disappointed. “I don’t see her.”