The chief sat back in his desk chair. “The local cops say the diner owner is just an old-timer. The gangs respect his turf, and he keeps his eyes and mouth shut in return. They can’t pry anything out of him. I have one of my investigators poking around. So far, he’s only learned that Fiona kept to herself, like everyone else. No one seemed to hold any grudge against her.”
Putting his feet up on his desk, Walker continued, “A couple of the waitresses thought it was funny that she peppered some jerk’s cheesecake with jalapeños. Apparently that customer made a practice of hitting on them. He had a pretty bad reaction to the peppers. But we’ve looked him up, and he’s just a clerk at a pawn shop. I’d watch yourselves around our new cook, though, unless you like jalapeño desserts.”
Aaron snorted his approval of the tactic but didn’t offer anything useful.
Monty knew that any private investigation was out of the pocket of Walker’s corporate research firm—fancy name for a detective agency that worked high-end cases. He couldn’t demand more without paying the company’s hefty prices. And he had no excuse to ask Kurt and his mother to ante up the money from the resort’s funds for an investigation. It wasn’t as if Fiona was even a guest of the lodge.
“We have a whole host of people coming in for the wedding,” Monty said in resignation. “The lodge is booked tight. I don’t suppose we can assume gang members won’t be hanging around because there’s no room at the inn?”
“We’re not talking just hoodlums off the street,” Walker warned. “Some of the characters who hang out at that diner are connected to international organized crime. If that key has anything to do with the cartel, the criminals have gold to spare. That level of wealth attracts maggots from every walk of society. Even your friendly banker could be in their pockets.”
“Fiona is a poor waitress, for crap’s sake!” Monty shouted. “What would an international cartel have to do with a waitress in a dive in the back street of nowhere?”
Aaron jiggled the coins in his pocket. “Do I need to add more security?”
At least the antique dealer wasn’t demanding that Fiona move. Monty gave him major points for fearlessness in the face of murderous cartels.
Walker juggled the flat key in his palm. “My guess is that someone has to want this key really badly to send a hired killer. I have an expert coming in to pick it up. We could put the old collar back on the dog, let the gang find the dog, and hope they’ll shoot each other up when they discover the key is gone. Or we can put the key back in and hope we never see them again.”
Both Aaron and Monty snorted over both those propositions.
“You go suggest giving up the dog to your bride,” Monty said. “Try it, just for fun.”
Despite his practiced expressionless façade, Walker looked peeved. “It’s a dog. Fiona only just picked it up a couple of nights ago. She can’t be too attached. If our theory is correct, people have died for that dog.”
Aaron opened the door. “And you’ll let Peggy’s killer get away with that?” He walked out.
The usually imperturbable chief cursed and sat back up. “Then tell the Lucys to start making magic circles. The town will be packed with wedding guests this weekend, and your girl will be running her feet off at the diner and probably the reception. Good luck with keeping her safe.”
“Maybe it will rain and everyone will stay home,” Monty said gloomily, then followed in Aaron’s path.
Rain was just about as likely as persuading the Lucys to give up the dog.
He had work to do, but numbers that made his eyes cross didn’t interest him, not when a killer could be looking for Fiona. Her life had been hard enough. She didn’t deserve to live in fear. He could at least offer her Walker’s proposal, even though he knew her answer.
No one had saved him a place at Dinah’s counter. He should probably wait until after the rush, but he had a driving need to examine every damned stranger in town to find the bastard who’d got away last night.
In the café, Mariah was taking orders, while her big Scots geologist husband loomed over the far end of the counter, keeping an eye on things. So, the grapevine had already spread its tentacles. Keegan was usually back in the canyon at this hour, not guarding the premises.
“I don’t suppose you have a posse of miners surrounding the town,” Monty said, inserting himself between Keegan and the wall. “How much do the Lucys know?”
Keegan tilted his head at a booth containing two unfamiliar couples. “Amber read their cards and says they’re polluted with death. Tullah and Cass held a séance and say there are protective spirits hovering over Fiona. Mariah wants to slap all strangers with ectoplasm and ask them why they’re here. The usual.”
“Well, at least Teddy is too occupied with the wedding to invent a crystal ball.” Monty studied the couples in the booth but neither of the middle-aged men looked large enough to be the one he’d tackled last night. “I’m thinking slapping tourists might be bad for business. But if you think she’s up to it, I’d appreciate it if Mariah would look into the connections between a couple of names for me. I’m always suspicious of manna from heaven.” He pulled the card of the investment broker out of his wallet and added one from the lodge manager who’d introduced Portelli.
Keegan slid the cards into his shirt pocket. “She’s getting pretty good at controlling her impulses to slide down electronic bunny holes. The results of her searches might not be as thorough as they once were though.”
“I find that almost reassuring.” Monty knew Mariah’s name was actually Zoe de Cervantes and that she was an infamous hacker who’d leaked internationally dangerous information into cyberspace. Her obsession with justice almost equaled her impulsiveness in a dangerous match. “I wouldn’t ask, except I figure it’s better if she’s focused on real names and not Fiona’s ancestors.”
“Good thinking. You’ll note all of us have our walking sticks at hand. We have no idea how to use them, but when we get them all in one place and focus their intent, it’s like walking into a simulated earthquake.” Keegan gestured at his own massive, carved oak branch leaning against the wall.
“An earthquake only Lucys feel?” Monty asked, striving to understand half the population of the town he was supposed to be governing.
“One assumes, although if the reports that they stopped a landslide are true, then the vibrations have some effect on the real world. Not especially useful in this case though.” Keegan watched as Mariah lifted a plate from the pass-through. “We can’t keep the poor kid trapped in the kitchen all day, every day.”
“Is that why everyone is here? They’re hiding Fiona in the kitchen?” Monty considered that. “She probably doesn’t mind. She’s not exactly a people person.”
“Amber says Fiona’s a crab, born under the sign of Cancer or some such. Our new cook likes her shell around her, and she snaps at anyone who gets too near.” Keegan sipped his coffee, not giving evidence of belief or disbelief.
“I’m gonna go with she’s lived a rough life and learned to defend her space. That doesn’t mean she should have to live like that here. Let me know if the Lucys stir up anything interesting.” Monty slapped Keegan on the shoulder and snagged a seat in a booth across from Teddy and Kurt, the blissful bridal couple.
His brother pushed a plate of fries at him. “They’re green beans. Your Fiona made green beans taste like fries. Dinah’s good, but even she can’t do that.”
“She’s not my Fiona, and I don’t eat salt.” But Monty took one anyway. He hadn’t eaten fries in so long, that he couldn’t swear that the taste was the same. “Not greasy,” he said in approval.
Ordinarily, he’d tell Kurt his fear for Fiona and demand that a safe house be found for her. But his big brother had his hands full with the wedding. Not only were they committing to a lifetime together, but his overachiever brother and bride saw their nuptials as an opportunity for Hillvale to garner a reputation as a wedding venue. Kurt had given up his architectural career to bring the to
wn to a point where it might support itself. Now that he had a chance at a little freedom, Monty couldn’t toss obstacles in his path.
Teddy offered a sympathetic look. “Come over to the shop and I’ll give you a crystal that will ease anxiety. I have one for protection, too, but I don’t know if you can persuade Fiona to wear it. She’s a bit prickly.”
Teddy was a Lucy—empathic to the max. Monty didn’t know how Kurt dealt with that. “I need an army to surround the town to ease my anxiety. Or maybe a mountain of gold. Are all the wedding preparations in order?”
“Other than worrying about Dinah and the reception, there’s not much else to do,” Teddy said with a dismissive wave of the diamond Kurt had given her. “The amphitheater is spilling over with flowers Samantha planted last fall. It looks like every wedding bower you’ve ever seen rolled into one, and the blooms are all real.”
“We have stadium seats ready so people don’t have to sit on rocks. Harvey and Val will provide the music, as always. My only concern is Carmel,” Kurt added.
Carmel, their mother. Monty rolled his eyes. “She hasn’t said a word, but she’s been a raging virago for weeks. Have you talked anyone into pouring a bottle of Valium in her wine?”
“My bridesmaids will all be carrying protective crystals in their bouquets. We’ll be fine. I’m not sure about our guests. She may stupefy them before the ceremony is over. We’ve given her a chair in front to isolate her. That’s all we know to do,” Teddy said, attempting a laugh.
“In front, while Cass is standing above her on the platform, officiating?” Monty asked in scorn. “Yeah, that’s gonna work. If we’re lucky, they’ll only glare each other to death.”
Mariah dropped a salad in front of him. “Compliments of the chef.” She sauntered off, her long black braid swinging.
Kurt chuckled and slid out of the booth with Teddy. “You’re my best man. You’re the one who has to prevent explosions at the altar. I’m counting on you.”
Oh, swell. They may as well say Bind and gag Momzilla. As they walked away, Monty stabbed a piece of salmon and shoved it in his mouth so he didn’t say what he was thinking. As he worked his way through spinach and nuts, he contemplated giving the Yorkie to his mother and letting the gangsters go after her. If he could be sure the Yorkie would survive, he’d definitely try it.
He was half way through a lunch he didn’t usually eat when Wan Hai marched up. Walker’s feng shui master wedding gift was even tinier than Dinah, or maybe she just wadded herself up to look like an invisible dust bunny. Monty figured the wiry lady was about his age or older, but she wore the bitter expression of an aging crone.
“Mr. Mayor,” she said curtly to demand his attention. “It is very bad chi to have parking in woods. If I am to arrange favor for the town, I must insist guests park in proper lots.”
Monty knew he wasn’t a genius, but he normally understood clear English. Wan Hai, however, spoke on a level even beyond Lucy. He processed her declaration with care, not wishing to offend the woman Walker’s mother had sent to feng shui the town. Monty figured Walker’s mother was smart and had just found a way of ridding herself of a pest.
“Our cottage guests have to park in driveways,” he said, parsing his words as cautiously as Fiona was prone to do. “And the cottages are surrounded by trees. Are we supposed to make them park in town instead?”
Wan Hai’s lips puckered more like a prune than before. “It is no driveway! It is in woods, near cemetery. All that metal bad for wedding.”
Monty was pretty certain that like Dinah, Wan Hai’s accent worsened when she was agitated. He’d heard her speak pretty crisp English when ordering the clerks at the grocery around. “I’ll have Walker look into it,” he offered.
“We have less than forty-eight hours,” Hai insisted. “Must have clear rippling water to welcome chi into church, not rusting hunks of metal.” She marched out to the beat of her own drummer.
Monty translated church as the amphitheater where the wedding would be held. The area was arid and contained no water that he knew of. But rusting hunks of metal sounded suspicious. He bit into a seasoned, cracker-like piece of bread on the plate holding his salad and had swallowed it before he realized he was eating carbs.
The damned woman would make him fat. He got up, handed Amber a twenty-dollar bill at the register, and waved off change. Dinah had a bad habit of taking whatever a customer could afford, so Monty tried to compensate where he could.
He met Walker in the parking lot, on his way to lunch. When apprised of Hai’s warning, his chief grudgingly left his new bride waiting at the café to stomp up the hill toward the amphitheater on Cass’s land. Cass’s land—where Sukey was hidden. Monty felt a cold chill and tried not to believe in ghosts.
Off the road and in the shrubbery near the steps Kurt and Teddy would take to the altar, they found an old Lincoln. It looked an awful lot like the one Monty had seen that night he’d caught the two men in the alley—the night before one of them had been bitten by a rattler.
Fourteen
Thursday, afternoon
“Go play with your doggie,” Dinah advised from the kitchen chair now padded with pillows from Tullah’s thrift store. “We’ll close up early today and tomorrow and just serve the fixed price menu at Delphines tonight. I can ice these cakes with one hand in my pocket.”
“Will there be room for them in the refrigerator? That butter cream recipe is pretty soft.” Fee removed her apron and glanced around to be certain she’d cleaned everything.
“I’ll have them move the eggs and things to Delphines and take the shelves out of this old one.” Dinah pointed her knife at the restaurant-sized cooler taking up half the kitchen wall.
“You’ve thought of everything,” Fee said in delight. “I never had the chance to learn handy tricks from the caterers.”
Dinah’s dark face wrinkled in worry. “We gotta be good to keep Mr. Kurt here. You don’t worry about that now. Take Mr. Monty up the hill with you, hang onto that stick Harvey gave you. We don’t want no one thinking you an easy target.”
Fee examined the delicate walking stick, thinking it might be good for shoving in bike spokes but not much more. But the reddish wood felt strong in her hand, and she liked the handle and the gargoyle with a blue crystal in its mouth. It had a clip she could attach to a belt on her purse handle, but if she was hiking up to Cass’s, she might as well carry it.
“I won’t take long,” she promised. “I’m pretty good at piping icing, so don’t try standing up to do that.”
Dinah waved her out.
Avoiding the deserted alley, Fee used the front door, fastening the latch and turning the closed sign around. She really would like company visiting Cass’s, but the street was empty of familiar faces, and she wasn’t about to go to City Hall and look for Monty.
Keeping her senses open for the tell-tale odor of fish, she passed empty store fronts and Teddy’s crystal shop. The memorial for Peggy had grown, blocking the last parking spot with flowers, candles, and a teddy bear—a painful reminder of Peggy’s little girl. Fee prayed Peggy had a large family to comfort her daughter and keep her safe.
No cars sped up the highway. She jogged across it quickly. The town was so small, she really didn’t even need her bike.
A tow truck blocked the dead-end road to the cemetery. Once she reached the tree-lined drive she’d been told was Cass’s, she saw the truck was hooked to an unfamiliar faded blue sedan. Surely dignified Cass hadn’t been driving that ugly-smelling car. Fee double-checked and saw the bright red barn of a mailbox marking the drive, so she was in the right place.
Monty and Walker stepped from behind the tow truck to gesture it on. Walker waved and jogged toward town in the wake of the truck. Monty waited for her. Fiona tried to read no significance into that.
“Dead car?” she asked. Uncertain how to greet him, she stood back from where the malodorous vehicle had been parked.
“Someone removed the plugs, and it’s been reported s
tolen. I’m on my way over to talk to Cass.” He grimaced. “I’m glad you came along. She’s not likely to let me in.”
“Why isn’t Walker talking to her?” Why anyone would steal an ancient car was a better question, she supposed. Did car thieves usually smell of fish? She might need to widen her definition.
Monty threw his khaki jacket over one broad shoulder and lazily strolled toward the pine-lined drive as if he were king of the jungle and master of all he surveyed. “Cass is my half-aunt. Walker figured I’d pry more out of her, but I’ve never been invited to visit. Old family tale that doesn’t reflect well on my family’s side, so let’s not go into it. I just decided that with Kurt getting married and his bride being part of Cass’s circle, we ought to mend bridges.”
“By investigating an abandoned car? That should endear you to her,” Fee said in amusement as they traversed the narrow drive.
“You have a better idea?”
“You’re the politician, not me. I just want to see my dog.” Fee inhaled the green odor of pines and the more subtle scents of sage and loneliness. She had the sense that people feared Cass, but she didn’t understand why.
“I’ll arrive as your guard dog,” he said as the house appeared at the end of the trees. “You shouldn’t be wandering the streets alone.”
Fee huffed in indignation, but didn’t correct his macho tendencies. She studied the towering Victorian structure ahead. “It looks kind of out of place here.”
“I’m told it’s a replica of the one her family owned in the city. I guess once you pay for an architect’s plans, there’s no harm in using them twice.” He took her elbow and steered her over the rutted drive toward the wide verandah.
He was always touching her. Fee couldn’t decide if she liked it or not, so she didn’t fight him. “I don’t remember any houses in the city with a porch like this.” She admired the sky blue ceiling of the covered veranda and the assortment of wicker furniture. The swing was adorned by a lovely marmalade cat who watched them approach. “It’s pretty Southern.”
Azure Secrets Page 11
