If Rip and Maureen were getting a divorce that certainly put a different spin on things. Rip struck me as the type of man who liked having status in the community. He wouldn’t want to live just anywhere.

“Now you’re starting to get it,” John said, studying me.

“But I still can’t imagine Constance leaving it to him in her will.”

John laughed bitterly. “My brother always has a plan. He’s not a smart man, but he sure is cunning.” He reached to turn the key in the ignition of his lawn mower.

“What about Mary?” I knew I was pushing my luck questioning a man I had only just met like this, and I felt terrible prying into his life, but what choice did I have?

“What about her?” John asked, not turning the key, but not moving his hand from it either.

“What role did she play in all this?”

“In Connie’s death? None, I would imagine. Mary’s been trying for years to make things right, but some things don’t deserve forgiveness.” The expression on his face made me think he was describing his own feelings rather than his sister’s. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a lawn to cut.”

“No, wait. What things? What happened?”

Instead of answering, he turned the key.

“John,” I shouted over the roar of the engine, holding up my hands. “Please!”

He drove the machine around me and didn’t look back.

My hands dropped to my sides.

Dog swooped away from the branch where he had been perched, flying in the direction of the B&B. Guess it was time to head home.

I followed the large bird back to the sidewalk. My mind was full of questions, but as I watched Dog soar overhead, one in particular stood out. What would cause a crow to bring a man other people’s mail? I needed to talk to Gideon. Hadn’t he said something about crows being messengers of the dead? Maybe Dog was trying to give John a message.

Despite what many think, witches don’t have familiars in the traditional sense. Most of us do have an affinity for animals, especially cats, but they’re not the demonic helpers the old witch hunters led people to believe. That being said, there were some animals who were a touch more tuned in to the human world, and they often gravitated to witches. These familiars, for lack of a better term, could often see things that the rest of us couldn’t, and in Dog’s case, well, he literally had a bird’s-eye view.

Yes, I would definitely bring it up with Gideon. Maybe my uncle had some other inklings as to what went on in the secret life of Dog, aside from his stealing letters and his tormenting poor—

Oscar!

I was so deep in thought I didn’t even realize I was looking at the bulldog sitting contentedly on his front lawn, not even a block away.

I hurried my step to stand underneath Dog perched in a tall tree. The way he was tilting his head side to side I couldn’t help but think he was weighing his options for a point of attack.