I got into my grandmother’s Mini-Cooper, my mind on my next target.
Kayla Wren. The soft-spoken baking competitor who Mrs. Bijon had listed as a prime suspect for stealing the recipe book.
I had about an hour before I needed to be back at the Gossip Inn to help prepare everything for lunch, and with Lauren in a whirl about the baking competition later this week, she needed all the support she could get.
But the short drive to the other side of town helped me mull over the problem at hand.
Being that Kayla Wren was staying in Jessie Belle-Blue’s guesthouse. I highly doubted my grandmother’s arch enemy would allow me to waltz in and start questioning her guests.
Twenty minutes later, I stepped out into the late morning sunlight, Jessie’s guesthouse and combined cattery ahead of me.
How on earth am I going to do this?
If I’d had the opportunity, I’d break in, detain Miss Wren, and bring her back to the Gossip Inn for interrogation. But that was about as likely as Jessie Belle-Blue growing a conscience and apologizing for her constant slights against Gamma.
I stopped on the sidewalk outside the gate, fisting my hips.
The front door of the guesthouse crashed open before I’d finished considering the horrible turn of events that had brought me to Jessie Belle-Blue’s doorstep.
The pashmina queen herself stormed onto the porch. “No!” she cried, with a flick of the ends of her lace-frilled pashmina. “Absolutely not.”
“Eh?”
“Do you think I’m stupid?” Jessie strode down the pathway that led from her witchy-looking home to the front gate. Her eyes were a striking blue, her auburn hair—straight from a bottle—styled in a bob, and her stubby legs ensconced in velvet.
“Good morning, Miss Belle-Blue,” I said.
“It’s Mrs. Brown to you!”
Be that as it may, Jessie would remain “Belle-Blue” to me. The evil ring of the name had lodged itself in my brain.
“Get off my property,” Belle-Blue snapped, before I could tell her the reason for my presence.
“I’m on the sidewalk. Technically, that’s public property. Look, I didn’t come to get into an argument or upset you, I just wanted to—”
“That idiot, Georgina, has sent you to spy on me. Don’t even try to deny it. I won’t allow your presence here. If you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”
“Jessie, come on,” I said, trying for a soft smile, one that Charlotte the maid would have used to de-escalate the tension. “I’m not even here to talk to you or to stay at your guesthouse.” The guesthouse that had once been just a cattery and, before that, Jessie’s home. “I want to talk to one of your guests.”
“Get off my property!” Jessie roared.
I considered bopping her on the nose, but I wasn’t going to get anywhere here. I retreated to Gamma’s car. Jessie glared at me for a moment longer before retreating to the steps of the higgledy-piggledy guesthouse.
Futile.
I’d have to find out about Kayla another way. That left two names on my suspect list, Glendaree Bijon and Colton Harrison. I’d deal with Colton first, since he lived in the Happy Campers trailer park outside of town, and I hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to him yet. And of course, I’d have to find out when Marie Tippett had arrived in town.
I put on my seatbelt, started the engine and—
My phone trilled in my purse. I fished it out to find my grandmother’s number flashing on the screen.
“Georgina?”
“Come back to the inn, right away!” My grandmother’s British accent was particularly pronounced when she was angry or excited. “There’s been a development.”