The Minstrel & The Campaign

by Lila K Bell

  Wait, what?

  “Robinson, if you’ll see Miss Gates home?”

  She walked away before I could ask what she’d meant.

  Because I’m not crazy that the insinuation was there, right?

  Like she’d known I was going to get involved. Like she’d expected — no, hoped — for it?

  I thought back to the night she’d met me outside Veronica’s house. She’d definitely been angry. There had been a threat to arrest me, for goodness’ sake.

  But she’d also mentioned Carlson. At the time I’d wondered how she knew I’d been to see him. She couldn’t have. In which case, she’d mentioned him… in the hopes that I would?

  Or maybe I’m just losing my mind. Either way, I wasn’t going to test my luck by rubbing it in her face. If she had wanted me to poke my nose in, then we all got what we wanted.

  I just wish she hadn’t reamed me out for it. It led to way too many mixed signals.

  “You ready to go?” Sam asked, and I stepped down from the ambulance, moving carefully to test the wavering in my head. For the most part everything remained steady.

  The paramedic moved to help me, but I waved him off. I was going to be fine. Nothing to worry about.

  “Ready,” I said. “Let’s go give Gramps the good news.”

  ***

  To say Gramps was over the moon would minimize the reaction he had when I told him what happened. I think he actually clicked his heels.

  The lecture followed afterward, of course, from both him and Bea. What was I thinking? How could I have let it go so far? How could I have been so stupid? The standard “terrified parental unit” response, capped by tight hugs and threats that if I ever did anything like that again they’d kill me themselves.

  It felt good to have done something useful, to know John Kingslake could go home and spend the rest of his life knowing the truth about what had happened to the woman he loved. I wished the answer could have brought her back to him, but at least now he had a gravesite to visit, which was more than he’d had before.

  To celebrate, Gramps took me, Bea, and Sybil out to dinner at the Eagle’s Gate. He invited Sam as well, but he’d opted out.

  “No doubt Fi will want to go into all the details of how she figured it out, and it’s probably for the best I don’t hear it,” he’d said.

  So off we’d gone for a delicious meal. The Eagle’s Gate is one of the better restaurants in Brookside, where you can get full turkey dinners all year round and the best yorkshire pudding I’ve ever had. It was also right over the Treasure Trove, which never failed to make me smile. All these upstanding Brookside citizens not realizing that the real gem of the town lurked right under their feet.

  When the wine was poured — ginger ale for Sybil — Gramps raised his glass in a toast. “To my chickadee, for stepping up to make her old grandpa happy and saving a man’s life. To Fiona.”

  “To Fiona!” the others repeated, while I looked around the restaurant to make sure no one else had heard. It was one thing to mark my success with the people I cared about, but I was in no rush to have the rest of the town know about it. I was only just starting to have people stop gawking over the Brooks funeral.

  “I couldn’t have done it without you guys,” I said. “Apparently all it took was talking out everyone’s stories with a different set of ears. Carlson definitely made it easy to pinpoint his lies.”

  “He would have made a crappy mayor,” Sybil said.

  She’d returned to her heavy eyeliner tonight, but the pink shadow remained, a perfect combination of the young woman she was growing into with her own unique style. Even the skull-print dress was a funky contrast to the aesthetic of the restaurant.

  Bea nodded. “I wouldn’t have voted for him even without all this nonsense. No one deserves to ride on their granddaddy’s coat tails all their life. Or his mentor’s, for that matter.”

  “Have you spoken with John?” I asked Gramps.

  He nodded. “I called him earlier today. He’s doing well. Back home and eager to move on with his life. Told me he stopped by the nursing home to speak with Irene. From what I gather it was a nice little reunion.”

  He cleared his throat and took a sip of his wine, and I swear I spotted tears in his eyes. Honestly, I felt a little misty myself. The woman had lost her daughter and spent years believing either her almost-son-in-law or her husband had murdered her. To learn that both men were innocent, to have the chance to make things up with John and honour Amelia’s memory… well, you’d have to have a heart of stone not to get a little choked up.

  “So what’s next for you, Fiona?” Bea asked. “Another case wrapped up, and fingers crossed the last murder Brookside will see for a good long while. How are you going to fill your time?”

  “I’m not sure. Now that I have a subtle nod from a friend in the police department and earned at least one freebie from the town’s best detective, I might see what else is out there for me to solve. Murder’s not the only crime, you know.”

  Gramps groaned. “Look what I’ve gone and done.”

  I grinned and sipped my wine. It was true. Gramps had opened the door again, and any desire I had to sit down and let other people solve the mysteries of Brookside had vanished. In time I would learn to be as sneaky in asking questions as I was in stealing books. Sneaky enough that Sam and Detective Curtis would never know I was there.

  But the only way to do that was practice, and I was determined to get it.

  As Sybil glanced at me with a sly smile, I knew deep down in my bones that we were back in business.

  ***

  A light snow was falling by the time we left the restaurant. Officially the first snow of the year.

  “What do you think the odds are that school will be cancelled tomorrow?” Sybil asked as we made our way to the car.

  “Slim to none, lazypants,” I said.

  She offered a resigned sigh, and I slung my arm around her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll pick you up. Parkour training?”

  Her face lit up. “Deal.”

  Gramps shuffled along behind me, cautious about where he set his cane, and Bea kept pace with him as they made their way to Mercy.

  Which meant I was the first person to spot the man leaning on Bessie a few parking spots down. His stance was casual: one leg over the other, arms crossed over the front of his leather coat.

  I wondered how long Ryan had been waiting for me.

  “You know what, guys? I think I’m good to walk home. Work off some of that chicken parm.”

  Gramps raised an eyebrow. “You sure?”

  “Yeah, if Bea’s able to give Sybil a lift?”

  “I could drive,” Sybil said.

  I shoved her away. “Show me your licence, then any day. Until then, back seat for you.”

  She groaned, and I kissed Gramps’s cheek. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “All right, chickadee.” He squeezed my hand. “Thank you again. Dinner was a start, but really, I’m more grateful than I can say.”

  “Hey, I didn’t do it just for you. He needed help, and I was able to step up.”

  He kissed the top of my head and got into the passenger seat as Bea started the car. I waved to them as they drove away, then walked over to Ryan.

  The snow picked up, swirling in cheerful sworls through the air, dancing under the orange glow of the streetlight.

  Not sure what there was to say, not sure why he’d come, I leaned next to him, taking Bessie’s solidness as a comfort against my back.

  “I heard you did good,” he said. “Again.”

  I shrugged. “I did my best.” There was my pride, squeezing the back of my throat, warning me against speaking lest it get bruised. I ignored it and focused on my priorities, of which ego was not very high. “I’m sorry I took my frustrations out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “No, I think I did,” he said, and my heart jumped.

  He pushed away from the car and came to stand in front of me. The snow played
in his dark hair and landed in his long eyelashes, which covered his steady grey gaze. The butterflies in my stomach danced in a full-on rave.

  “You’re right,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I’ve been acting like a bit of a heel.”

  “Not just you,” I rushed to say. “I know I’ve been—”

  “Will you shut up? I’m trying to say something here.”

  I pressed my lips together around a smile and nodded for him to continue.

  “My life is… complicated,” he said. “I keep a lot of secrets because I have to. The same reason you keep yours.”

  The desire to bombard him with questions bubbled within me, but I shushed it. This was not the time for my stubborn inquisitiveness to butt in.

  “The fact is, I am interested in you, Fiona Gates. You’re funny, you’re beautiful, you keep the strangest hobbies, and get into more trouble than I can say, and the reason I haven’t said any of this before is that you’re not the only mystery in the room. I accused you of hiding yourself, of not knowing who I was talking to, but the fact is I’m a hypocrite. My name isn’t Ryan Clark. I’m Ryan Fisher.”

  The earth trembled beneath my feet. Not that he’d given me a false name, but that he was admitting it to me now.

  “I work for an insurance company,” he said.

  I blinked. Insurance? Ryan Clark? It was such a mundane-sounding job for someone so… not. And then I thought of that day when I saw him leave the downtown building. There had been a dozen businesses listed, and at least one of them had been an insurance company.

  So, that had been Ryan’s secret identity.

  I still couldn’t picture it.

  “I’m a recovery specialist,” he said, as though he understood my doubts. “It’s the kind of position that’s not listed on the job sites. The kind they’ll deny exists if they’re ever asked.”

  That made more sense.

  “I was brought to Brookside to look for some books. Expensive ones. First editions, rare works. You know the type.”

  My mouth went dry. He’d come here after me? My thoughts scrambled to put the timeline together, but nothing he said countered what I knew. He’d arrived less than a year ago, when my burglaries had ramped to a few a month.

  Was he going to give me up? Have me arrested?

  While I’d helped Detective Curtis out of a jam with this last case, I doubted she would let me off the hook for serial theft.

  “Have you heard of the Midnight Minstrel?” he asked, and there was something in his eye, something that told me he knew damned well who I was.

  All his comments, his little nicknames. He’d known almost from the start.

  How? Troy?

  No, not a chance Troy would have given me up. But he had to know the Treasure Trove was where my prizes been traded. Was that why he’d spend so much time here?

  “I’ve heard of them.”

  The words came out as little more than a squeak.

  “They’ve led me a merry chase, I’ll tell you that,” he said, and he hooked his finger around the collar of my jacket, his thumb running up and down the seam. “I’ve managed to retrieve a few of the books they stole, but, for the life of me, I can’t seem to get any closer the person taking them.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “Good thing that’s not my job.”

  My heart fluttered again. This man was driving me crazy.

  “I changed my name around here to protect the life I lead when I’m not at work. It’s why I’m only around half the time. It’s why I’ve been so distant with you. I know there’s more to you than there seems, that your hands aren’t completely clean. Everything in me is telling me to run, to not add any more complications… but I’m not ready for that. Despite everything, Fi, I can’t figure out how to cut you out of my life, and I’m not sure I want to. Things are a lot more interesting with you in it. If that’s all right with you?”

  There was such hesitation in his voice, such uncertainty in his eyes. As though he was prepared for anger. For me to walk away.

  But how could I blame him for keeping secrets when he knew I’d been keeping my own and was willing to overlook them. What was a name? My life was more interesting with him in it, too.

  I released a sigh and shook my head. “It’s like you said, Ryan. I don’t even know who you are.”

  The disappointment in his eyes, the way he shifted away from me, his fingers sliding from my jacket, warmed me against the sharp wind that blew between us.

  “But I’d be very happy to get to know Ryan Fisher,” I said, and extended my hand between us.

  He stared at me with a pinch of confusion that morphed into a bright smile as he wrapped his fingers around mine.

  “Come here, you,” he said, and pulled me closer.

  The wind picked up, but I didn’t notice. A tornado might have blown through and I would have been oblivious as he bent his head and kissed me. A deep kiss that tingled me down to my toes.

  My heart raced, a steady beating that I was certain the whole world could hear. No tell-tale guilt for me, however — just excitement to see what the future would bring.

  THANK YOU FOR READING

  Thank you so much for picking up this book and giving it a chance.

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  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to my husband and family for their encouragement and support in helping me stick to deadlines and to brainstorm all kinds of fun story ideas.

  Thank you to my readers who make each new book worthwhile.

  A special thank you to Edgar Allan Poe for having such a dark and twisted mind.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lila K. Bell is never as happy as when she's devising clever ways to commit crimes and reverse engineering how to solve them. She loves going for long walks to feed her imagination, reading mysterious plots into the most innocent interactions.

  She currently lives in Ottawa, Ontario with her husband.

  You can connect via her website:

  www.lilakbell.com

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  www.facebook.com/LilaKBellAuthor

  Love Fiona?

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  And maybe introducing a whole other set of characters as well…

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