Free Up In Smoke: Spirit of the Soul Wine Shop Mystery (A Rysen Morris Mystery Book 3) by K.J. Emrick

would have to do was sell it.  This seemed a little, well, extreme.
    “Chris?” she called out.  The other flashlight beam froze in place.  It was coming from the far end of the cellar, past topped racks that formed a chaotic maze and spread shadows like spiderwebs between the two flashlights.  “Hey, it’s me.  It’s Rysen.  I came to get you out of here.”
    There was no answer.  Her sister didn’t move from where she was.
    “Come on, Chris.  I know things have been hard.  Let me help you.”
    She took a few more steps, moving around a pile of broken crates, getting distracted by a hole dug into the wall to her right that was as tall as she was, the chunks of stonework tossed around the floor.
    “What were you doing down here, sis?  Come on.  Say something, won’t you?”
    Her flashlight came back around to light her path and fell on something that wasn’t broken, and wasn’t stone.
    A woman lay there on the cold floor.  Red stained the back of her neck from a cut at her hairline.  Rysen gasped.  The woman’s head was turned to the side, and the face was visible in profile.
    Christina.  It was Rysen’s sister laying there.
    Then who…?
    “Rysen!”
    Beatrice’s voice.  It was Bea down there holding the other flashlight while Christina lay bleeding on the floor. 
    “Thank God you’re here!” she said, stepping out where she could be seen.  “Your sister is hurt.  I came over to ask if she’d made a decision about selling the store and I found her like this.  I think she needs an ambulance.”
    Rysen started to rush forward, but then stopped.  Bea’s face looked ghastly in the backsplash of her own light.  Her raggedly chopped hair was coated with fine white dust just like the sleeves of her blouse were.  In her hand was a tool of some kind, sharp on one end.
    She didn’t need to be a licensed private investigator to add up what she was seeing.
    “It was you,” she said to Beatrice.  “You’ve been digging at the walls.  You destroyed everything down here.  You…set the fire?  Why, Beatrice?”
    The other woman hung her head with a ragged sigh.  “Oh, Rysen.  Why did you have to come back to town?”
    Then she lunged, with the tool up.  Rysen ducked back into the broken mess around her, terrified and confused.  Hiding was her only thought.  That, and getting help for her sister.  She wanted answers, damn it, and she wanted help.
    She’d have to stay alive first.
    Crouching down behind a tall shelving unit that used to hold dozens of wine bottles before it had been pushed over to lean against the wall, Rysen took slow breaths through her mouth, hoping Beatrice wouldn’t find her.
    That tool with its sharp point came crashing through the wood shelf right next to her head.  Rysen yelped and bolted, scurrying further away.
    “I see you, Rysen!” 
    Bea’s voice seemed to come from everywhere, and in her panic Rysen had gotten completely turned around.  She didn’t know which way to go.  The flashlight!  She realized she was leading Beatrice right to her with the flashlight on.  She switched it off, and held it like a mighty weapon that would save her life.
    It was plastic.  And orange.  It wasn’t going to save her from anything.
    “It’s always you,” Bea shouted, her voice shaky.  “Every time I try to do anything, you’re there to mess it up.  All I wanted was for your sister to leave this shop.  That’s all.”
    The pick tool crashed down on something wooden and Rysen heard whatever it was splinter and crack.
    “I tried having her shipments stolen.  I figured if she didn’t have any wine to sell she’d have to close up shop.  But, no, you had to come right in and get my thief arrested.”
    Rysen found a hiding spot behind another of the wine stacks.  Where were the damned stairs?
    “So then I tried to poison Cristina.  I know, I know.  Friends shouldn’t try to kill other friends.  But you made me kind of desperate, Ry.  Know