by Gina LaManna
The kid shifted his slacks above his boxers, a scowl on his face. I hid a smirk as I fumbled for the lock. Cooper made it around before I’d managed to let myself out of the car. He opened the door for me.
His grip on my hand lingered for a second longer than necessary. My gaze was drawn toward his. We locked eyes, and for a moment, I barely noticed the other women in gowns and the men in suits as they flooded into the theater around us. It was just me and Cooper, gazes fixed on one another.
His eyes were full of depth this evening. The sun had set, and the first fingers of moonlight glinted off his face, casting intriguing shadows over his features. Before I could work my hand free, he tugged me close, dropping his voice to a whisper that only I could hear.
“In case I wasn’t clear,” Cooper said, his arm grazing over my lower back. “Tonight, this is personal.”
My breath hitched in my throat. “Which means you’re not going to talk anymore about that lawyer bit.”
“Don’t push your luck.”
Chapter 10
Cooper went to park his car, leaving me alone with Allie at the entrance of the Blueberry Lake Theater. The venue was a multipurpose building that housed events from children’s plays to black tie fundraisers. Almost every event in town took place either here or at the bingo hall.
However, the decorating crew had done a fine job outfitting the place for a special occasion. A red carpet had been rolled out the front entrance. Fairy lights twinkled in an arch above us, and an older gentleman stood holding a tray of sparkling champagne glasses.
Allie reached for two, handed me one. I took a tiny sip as we made our way up the front steps. Hopefully a bit of champagne would help distract me from the lingering emotions I felt around Cooper’s touch and his promise that this evening would be purely personal.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about being around Cooper without the safety of a murder case to discuss. My feelings were too complicated. With Cooper, there was so much intrigue and frustration. With Matt, there was a nice consistency. Very nice. When Cooper touched me, I lit on fire. When Matt touched me, it felt comfortable and familiar. They were two very different men.
Thankfully, along with the champagne, another distraction was waiting for me at the front doors. Stacey Simone, the host for Sunday night bingo, stood next to another young lady I didn’t recognize. The two women smiled at us. Stacey handed over a flier.
“Here you are,” she said. “The pamphlet for tonight. It lists all of the women participating in the gala, along with the rules and regulations.”
“Oh, my,” I said. “Rules and regulations. That sounds like serious business.”
“It is,” Stacey said. “Very serious. We’ve had a few debacles in the past.”
“Oh?”
“One year,” Stacey murmured, leaning forward, “Linda rigged her auction.”
“How does one rig an auction?”
“She paid people to bid on her and inflated her prices.”
“Ah,” I said. “Got it.”
“And the year before, we had Trevor Norris bid—and win—dates with three different women,” Stacey said. “So, we’ve put a cap on one date per man. Otherwise, it just gets...”
“Messy,” I said.
“Right,” Stacey agreed. “Messy. Especially because he wanted to take all three women out on the same night.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Oh.”
“Trevor’s not allowed to bid anymore,” Stacey said. “That’s rule number seventeen.”
I glanced down and indeed, saw that rule number seventeen forbid poor Trevor Norris from bringing his checkbook to the event. Next on the list, rule eighteen, was that bidding on the valets wasn’t allowed.
“Oh, that,” Stacey said. “We got some women who’d sipped on a bit too much champagne and were trying to bid on the college boys out front. Cooper had to—ah—escort them home early.”
“I had no idea this event could get so rowdy.”
Stacey’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s all the rage. The results will be in the paper three towns over tomorrow morning.”
“Well, best of luck to you,” I said, “though I’m sure you won’t be needing it. I heard you swept the competition last year. By the way, you look great.”
Stacey gave a diplomatic smile. “Yes, thank you. I was very fortunate last year. But every year is different. We never know what will happen!”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Allie said. “I might actually grab a second champagne before we get going here. Little bit of liquid confidence never hurt anyone.”
“It has, actually,” Stacey said, and jabbed a manicured nail at her sheet of paper. “Rule number twenty-one. No more than three drinks per person.”
“Then I better get a move on,” Allie said. “Gotta get my three drinks in before I’m up on stage. I’m lucky number sixteen.”
Allie and I brushed past Stacey and made our way into the theater. The lights were dim and chandeliers hung from the ceiling, accenting the rich maroon color scheme that graced the hanging curtains. Old, ornate golden fixtures decorated the walls. A bar had been set up along one wall, and behind it, a young man dressed in a suit stood shaking up drinks. He already had a slew of women waiting before him, and I highly doubted it was because of the alcohol, seeing as most of them already had drinks in hand.
“That’s Trevor Norris,” Allie whispered to me. “He’s not allowed to bid anymore, so they put him to work.”
“Seems like a good chunk of the ladies present wouldn’t mind being bid on by Trevor.”
“Exactly,” Allie said. “That’s the problem. Trevor didn’t bid on Stacey, so she got jealous and made up that ridiculous rule. Trevor donates anyway, and the women get to stare at a pretty bartender, so nobody cares that much. Anyway, the good news for us is that he doesn’t believe in the three-drink limit.”
“See, that’s one rule that’s probably there for a reason.”
“Probably,” Allie said. “But I don’t care. I’m nervous.”
“Don’t be nervous,” I said, giving her a playful nudge. “If nothing else, you get a date with Cooper. He’s a nice guy.”
“Er, right.” Allie shifted her gaze away from me abruptly. “Let’s take our seats. I bet May is already here.”
We found our way into the main room, which had been arranged into a sort of dinner theater. Tables for six had been set all around the ground floor. Each table had little nametags assigning seating. I wasn’t sure who’d organized the nametags, but I found my place between Allie and May and was quite pleased with the arrangement.
“It’s Blueberry Lake,” Allie said in explanation, when she saw my look of surprise. “Everybody knows who you’re friends with. The organizers figured you didn’t have a plus one.”
“How’d they figure that?”
“Stacey asked me,” Allie said. “That’s pretty much it.”
We eased into our seats and were joined by a very annoyed looking May and a very nervous looking Joe a few minutes later. They took their seats at our table, along with Mrs. Beasley and Angela from knitting club. Apparently, we were one of the few singles tables, with the exception of Joe and May.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, leaning over to May. “You look upset.”
“Joe told me his limit is fifty bucks,” May said, giving her husband a dirty look. “It cost more than that to get my hair done today!”
“Maybe someone will swoop in and outbid him,” I suggested. “You never know.”
May just stared at me. “Everyone knows I’m married and pregnant. The only person bidding on me is the person who’s going to sleep on the couch if he doesn’t.”
I hid a smirk. “Maybe he just wants to save money. Babies are expensive.”
May grumbled. “That’s what he said. But still, it’d be nice to think my husband sees me as worth more than fifty bucks.”
Our conversation was dropped as my mother appeared behind us and squeezed both my shoulder and May’s.
“You girls are
looking gorgeous,” she said, leaning forward and smelling of a new perfume. “I’m excited to see how this all shakes out.”
“Not much to see,” I said. “Seeing as May’s married, and I’m not participating.”
“Oh,” my mother said abruptly, then squeezed my shoulder harder. “Right.”
My mother released her grasp on us and shuffled over to the nearest table where she slipped into her seat next to Sid.
“That was odd,” I said. “Everyone’s being odd. Plus, my mom’s wearing new perfume. It’s like she expects this to be an actual competition or something. She’s married, too.”
“You never know,” May said. “In your mother’s younger years, I heard she was a hot commodity.”
I groaned. “I’m going to need another glass of champagne to get that image out of my head.”
“Good idea,” May said, raising a hand and gesturing for a server to swing by the table. Within seconds, she had another glass in front of me. “Drink up, buttercup.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to butter me up,” I said. “But it’s too late for—”
“That’s weird,” Allie interrupted. “Did you see this, Jenna?”
“See what?” I glanced to where Allie was pointing at her brochure. Her finger underlined the name Amy Knowles—bachelorette number fifteen on the evening’s roster. “Never heard the name before. Should it mean something to me?”
“How did that slip by Stacey?” May asked, leaning over. “That’s odd.”
“What’s so weird?” I pressed. “I’ve never heard of this girl before, right?”
“She’s from Butternut Bay,” Allie said. “Only women from Blueberry Lake can participate in the auction. It’s always been a rule.”
“Rule number one,” May said, pointing it out. “Otherwise, we’d have people coming from everywhere to participate.”
“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?” I wondered.
“No,” May and Allie snapped at once.
I blinked at them. “But more women equals more potential dates, more potential bids, more potential money raised for charity.”
“Right, and more potential for these Butternut Babes to steal our men,” Allie said defensively. “You don’t want all of those Sugarland Shores ladies in here mackin’ on Cooper, do you?”
“Or Matt,” May said. “Matt can bid tonight, too.”
“But Cooper drove her here,” Allie said. “So, they’re basically already on a date.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “Your car broke down. You were in the backseat.”
Allie shrugged. “All I’m saying is that this is a dangerous precedent to set. We should go investigate.”
“Investigate?”
Allie blinked at me. When I still didn’t get it, she leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Also, I think she knew Shania Boot.”
“She did,” May confirmed. Allie’s whisper was about as subtle as a gun. “They were really close from what I remember. I’ve only met Amy a few times, but she was always nice enough.”
“Another reason we can’t let her participate in the auction,” Allie said with a decisive nod of her head. “We can’t let the nice ones take our guys. They never give them back.”
I stifled a laugh. “You say that like they couldn’t meet somewhere else. Like, say, the mechanic’s shop.”
“They could,” Allie said. “But I’m still not going to make it easy on them. Come on, I think I saw Amy headed to the bathroom. I need to powder my cheeks.”
“Your nose,” I said, following as Allie tugged me toward the doors. “The saying is powder your nose.”
“Powder yourself,” Allie said. “This way. She’s the one in the red dress. Red! Of all colors. The siren.”
Allie and I hustled down the hallway. I finished my glass of champagne just in time to hand it off to a passing waiter before Allie pulled me into the restroom. She made her way up to the sink and stopped before a mirror.
“Do you have powder?” she turned to me. “Or something?”
I rolled my eyes, pulled out a compact and handed over the supplies to Allie. She just stared at them.
“I don’t know what to do with this stuff,” she said. “You’re the one who put it on me.’
“Come here,” I said. “Your lipstick is on your teeth.”
By the time we got Allie stage ready, Amy Knowles was out of the stall. She stood washing her hands and gave us a smile as I snapped my compact shut.
“I’m new around here,” I said, when it appeared that Allie wasn’t going to start the conversation. “My name is Jenna McGovern. And you are?”
“Amy Knowles.” Amy extended a hand and gave another friendly smile. “You’re helping out at Something Old, right? I love that shop.”
“Yes, it’s my mother’s,” I said. “Actually, my friend, Allie, works there, too.”
“Allie, right!” Amy extended her hand to Allie. “I thought I recognized you. Maybe you rang me up once?”
“Definitely,” Allie said stiffly. “How’d you get onto the roster tonight?”
“O-oh,” Amy said, her smile fading. “You mean because of rule number one, right?”
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Allie said, a bit short. “I always thought you worked at the Butternut Bay garden shop.”
“I do—I did,” she said. “I’m still working there, but I’ll be moving over to Blueberry Lake at the end of the month. I have my apartment already sorted, so they let me in early because I have a Blueberry Lake address, even though I’m not officially living here yet.”
“Oh,” Allie said. “Okay, then. Guess you got off on a technicality.”
“Welcome to town,” I said quickly, covering up the awkward silence. “As a fellow newcomer, let me know if you need anything.”
“I’m only moving about five miles from my current house,” Amy said. “I’m pretty familiar with the area.”
“Right, of course,” I said. “Well, maybe you know Matt Bridges? I live next door to him.”
“Green’s!” Amy’s face lit up. “I’m a bit of a garden fanatic. I loved your... it was your Gran’s shop, wasn’t it? She always talked about her bigshot granddaughter who was out in Los Angeles.”
“That’s me,” I said. “Well, not the bigshot part, but the Los Angeles part and the granddaughter bit. That’s all true.”
Amy’s face melted a bit as she studied me closer. “That must mean... if you’re Matt’s neighbor... were you there when it happened?”
“Are you talking about the murder?”
Amy’s eyes filled with tears. “Shania was my best friend. I almost went to Matt’s the second I heard what happened, but my mom came over and told me to stay put. That it wouldn’t help to see her like that. I suppose she had a point, but still. I can’t believe she’s gone.”
“Me too,” I said. “I mean, I didn’t know Shania, but I got my hair done at her salon today, and everyone was saying how she was so nice.”
“I’m sure they did,” Amy said with a bit of vehemence. “Now that she’s gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing.” Amy shook her head and looked mortified. “I didn’t mean anything by it. That was awful of me to say.”
“Amy, listen. I know we just met, but we’re sort of helping the police look into the case.”
“Why?” Amy asked.
It was a logical question. One I obviously hadn’t put enough thought into answering, seeing as I mostly just stared at her with a dumb look on my face.
“Well, Jenna here was actually being a bit modest.” Allie thumbed toward me, then gave a conspiratorial lean toward Amy. “Out in LA, she actually styled so many episodes of NCIS she was like an honorary detective.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “But I did learn a lot about police procedure. And the fact that the murder happened next door to me has me on edge. I’m nervous.”
“Of course,” Amy said. “I would be too. How awf
ul.”
“I’m just asking around, helping out Cooper where I can,” I said. “Speaking of, do you know if Shania was acting strangely in the weeks leading up to her death?”
My muddled reasoning for why I wanted to solve the murder seemed to do the trick. Either that, or it confused Amy so that it hurt her brain to think too much about it. Whatever the reason, she seemed to forget her line of questioning as she considered the answer to mine.
“Strangely?” Amy said, biting her bottom lip. “Maybe she was acting different, but I wouldn’t say strange.”
“How was she different?”
“She had some things going on in her life.”
“What sorts of things?”
“She was going through a lot of change,” Amy said. “I feel like some of it was my fault.”
“Your fault? How do you mean?”
Amy’s lip started to tremble. “Oh, my God. What if I got her killed?”
“Why would you think that? I’m sure you didn’t,” I said. “It seems like someone wanted her dead badly.” I frowned. “I suppose someone could have bonked her over the head on accident, got scared, and left. But it seems more likely to me that it was on purpose.”
“I rushed her into a relationship,” Amy said. “She was really broken up after Matt dumped her.”
“Do you know why they broke up?”
“She was pretty secretive about it, even to me,” Amy admitted. “But it sounded like she was ready to get a move on—settle down, have a family. I think it might have freaked Matt out. They broke up the day they were supposed to go ring shopping.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” I said. “And that she was in rough shape after.”
“She was. Barely ate or drank for a week. Then binged on ice cream for another week. It was not pretty.”
“Breakups rarely are.”
“It took her a few months to get her head on straight. I’m not talking back to normal, either. I’m saying, it took her a few months to properly function again.”
“If she thought she was going to marry Matt, I can see how it would be a big change.”
As I spoke, I squirmed as I pictured Shania and Matt together. The idea of a strange woman in love with Matt, their relationship far enough along for most everyone to imagine they’d end up married, brought up some feelings I didn’t particularly care to acknowledge. Which was completely unfair, seeing as I hadn’t even lived in the state at that point, and I’d been in a relationship of my own. But, still.
