Magnolias & Murder (Willowmere Cozy Mysteries Book 5) by Corrine Winters

Author:Corrine Winters [Winters, Corrine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-05-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

"That wasn’t here yesterday."

Maeve crouched beside the edge of the compost heap, brushing away a thin layer of citrus peel and broken lavender stems. Morning light angled through the greenhouse panels and touched the burn marks like old script—blackened curls where paper had curled in on itself. The soil beneath was darker, too compacted.

She pushed gently with her trowel and uncovered the edge of something scorched. A tea packet—half-melted, its label warped but still partially legible. The ink had bled, but she caught two words clearly: memory blend.

Not printed. Handwritten. And the penwork was familiar. Laurel’s.

The scent was worse than anything she’d cataloged lately. Not rot or mold, but a strange burned sweetness—floral at first, then sharp, as though someone had tried to burn away meaning and left it smoldering in the air.

Whim settled beside her with stiff legs, fur bristling. "If you have to burn it, it’s already said too much."

Maeve placed the remains in a shallow dish and covered it loosely. She didn’t know yet if Laurel had burned it—or someone trying to implicate her. But whoever had done it had known exactly where the compost turned hottest. And what had to disappear.

The latch rattled once.

Maeve froze, the teacup in her hand still warm from the steeped valerian blend she’d been testing. The second rattle wasn’t subtle. It was metal scraping against metal, the unmistakable tug of a bolt being tested.

Whim leapt down from the shelf and bolted toward the greenhouse door, tail low, ears back. Maeve followed, setting her lantern carefully on the table before reaching for the rake by the back entrance.

Another sharp sound—wood striking the outer latch on the equipment shed. She stepped into the side corridor between greenhouse and fencing, moving slowly, breath shallow.

The figure on the other side of the gate didn’t speak. They didn’t fumble. The lock was being tested with precision. The bolt twisted once more, harder.

Then, just as she raised the rake, another shadow moved fast across the garden.

Silas.

He moved without shouting, his posture steady but urgent. “Hey!” he called. “You lost?”

The figure jerked upright and took off at a dead run—boots slamming across gravel, disappearing down the rear garden path toward the woods. Maeve caught only a glimpse of a broad back and a dark cap before the intruder vanished into the tree line.

Silas stood still, exhaling once before turning back to her.

“You okay?”

Maeve nodded as she dropped the rake, hands trembling, adrenaline still humming in her ribs. “It wasn’t a kid.”

“No,” he said. “And it wasn’t random.”

He walked the perimeter with her in silence, checking hinges and beams. When they returned to the door, he didn’t press her. Just held the gate open and waited.

That was the moment. She knew it had been coming. As much as she feared it, she knew it was time.

She glanced at Whim who simply sat by the open door, tail curled around his legs.

She breathed deeply, then broke the silence.

“I need to tell you something.”

Inside, Maeve stood near the prep table, where samples lay arranged in meticulous rows.

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