In less than ten minutes, Perry takes the stage to the delight of a room full of swaying bodies. People are singing along, women are crying, underwear are tossed on stage, and I’d say the first set is a true blue hit.
Perry says a few words before heading off for a five-minute break and the house lights come up a notch.
Shep appears before me like a scowling dark shadow as the whites of his eyes glint over at me.
He rocks back on his heels, hands stuffed in his pockets. “So, how are you liking Starry Falls so far?”
“I don’t,” I say, trying to make my way past him, and he takes a step to the side, effectively blocking my path. “What’s this? Are you trying to get lucky? Because I saw the way Regina was hanging all over you. I don’t think she’d like her man scouting other prospects for the night, if you know what I mean.”
His head cocks to the side, and that stern expression on his face only seems to harden.
“Regina and I aren’t a couple. I just wanted to see if you figured out your situation for the night.”
For a sweet, brief moment, I get lost in those mesmerizing eyes of his, but I know his type. Shep is far too handsome for his own good. And Lord knows I’ve played enough head games to realize to run the other way when I see a player like him on the horizon. But a part of me isn’t convinced he’s playing a game at all. And to be honest, that’s a scarier prospect.
All my life, every man I’ve ever been with has lied to, swindled, or tried to control me. It’s just a matter of figuring out which of the three this one wants to do.
“Don’t worry, hot stuff. I’ll be fine.” I zip past him, on my way back to the restroom so I can bang my head against a stall for the duration of the night, but before I can get there, I bump into Opal.
“Bowie!” She nods my way. “Isn’t this great? I think I’ll ask to book him once a month—heck, once a week. At this rate, I might just be able to save up enough to go to Paris for the summer. Now wouldn’t that be a hoot?”
“It’s a hoot, all right,” I say, lacking the proper Parisian enthusiasm.
“Oh”—she pouts to the opened door at the end of the hall—“I bet he went out that way.”
I follow along and a tan fuzzy cat crosses our path, letting out a yowl of a scream.
A line of evergreens stands about thirty feet away, and a dirt patch sits just beyond the door. It’s a dark night with nothing but a crescent moon and a spray of a thousand stars to light up the vicinity with a gentle blue cast.
Opal takes a few steps out and picks something up before turning my way.
“Oh my God,” she says as her face bleaches out. “He’s dead.”
“Who’s dead?” I gasp as I take the trinket out of her hand, only to find myself cradling a shiny black gun. I suck in a quick breath. “My vision!”
But before I can get too worked up about it, I spot a dark, lumpy object lying in the dirt just a few feet away. I stagger on over, and to my horror I see a man lying face up, a stream of dark liquid pooling around his chest.
“What’s going on?” a male voice calls out from the manor, and I look over to see Shep striding my way.
He glances to the body before looking to the gun in my hand.
Perry Flint won’t have to worry about singing his second set.
Perry Flint is dead.
And I just so happen to look pretty guilty.
Chapter 4
I’m no expert, but standing over a man who has clearly breathed his last while holding what is presumed to be the murder weapon is hardly a good way to go undetected.
“Put down the weapon,” Shep says it sternly as he whips something out from his waist, and the next thing I know I’m staring down the shiny barrel of a gun myself.
“Whoa,” I say, lowering the firearm in my hand to the ground where it belongs.
Opal makes an odd squawking sound before she slaps Shep’s arm silly.
“Would you put that thing away?” she shrills. “How many times do I have to tell you, this is not a shooting range? Valerie here was just taking the gun from me.”
Bowie, I’m tempted to correct her, but I opt to keep my pie hole shut.
She tosses her hands in the air. “I thought it was a wallet. And once I realized what it was, it was too late. I was holding it, smothering it with my fingerprints. You don’t think I’ll do any hard time, do you?”
Shep lands his weapon back into that holster over his right hip and gives me a hard look.
“No, Opal, you’re safe.” He kneels by the victim and checks his vitals before rising and announcing that he’s calling 911.
A couple steps out from the manor and heads this way.
The man steps into view and it’s Richard, the white-haired steed Tilly was hoping to tame later tonight.
“What in the heck is going on? Have any of you seen Perry?” he asks before doing a double take and letting out a hard moan. “Nicki, you’d best get back inside. I don’t think you should see this.”
The woman with the tight bun does a little quick step in this direction and lets out a sharp cry at the sight before burying her head against Richard’s chest.
“There, there.” He shakes his head in Perry’s direction. “Who could have predicted something so tragic?”
Not me, I want to say.
The wail of a siren cuts through the air, and in no time flat the place is crawling with sheriff’s deputies with the words Woodley County Sheriff’s Department written in large block letters on the back of their navy jackets.
“Oh my God,” I mutter as I back away slowly. If I disappear now, I’ll only look guilty, and yet every cell in my body is screaming run.
I glance to my left and spot a woman in tan pants and a navy blouse speaking with Opal. The woman has her phone out and appears to be taking notes and nodding. Her hair is pulled into a short ponytail, and from what I can tell, she looks as if she could grace the covers of magazines with her pouty lips and large dark eyes. Opal glances my way, and soon the two of them are headed over.
Shep steps up and blocks them from my view momentarily.
“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “If you’re innocent, you have nothing to hide.”
“If?” I can’t help but gawk at him a moment as the two of them descend upon us. For as handsome as Shep is, he’s equally annoying.
Opal sheds a ragged breath. “Bodie, this is Detective Grimsley. She’d like to speak with you about that gun incident.” She leans in and whispers, “Don’t say a word about you know what. The vision.” She mouths those last two words. “I’m going to step inside now. Being near the dead gives me a stress rash.” She bolts for the door, leaving that pouty-lipped brunette to observe me in a suspicious manner before she turns her attention to the undeniably comely man by my side.
Perfect. Shep can distract her with his man candy while I make a getaway.
“Shepherd Wexler.” Her lips curl, but there’s no smile attached to the effort. “Opal tells me you found the deceased.”
My lips part as I look over at him.
He glances my way. “I found”—his eyes scan my features a moment—“this woman, Bowie, a friend of mine, holding the gun. It seems she came upon the scene and took the gun from Opal who picked it up off the floor to begin with.”
Well, at least I wasn’t the only one he threw under the bus.
“Bowie”—the woman looks my way—“I’m Detective Grimsley with the Woodley County Homicide Division. Just tell me the sequence of events, exactly how they occurred.”
I quickly relay it all to her, starting from the moment I headed for the restroom.
“And once I saw Opal had picked up a gun, I took it from her in the event she was accidentally about to squeeze the trigger, and that’s the end of it. Shep came out and asked me to put the gun down, and I did. I have no idea how this happened or why.” The argument Perry was having earlier with that man in the hall before the show began runs through my mind.
“Okay, great,” she
says. “I’ll need your full name and address and, of course, we’ll have to run your prints.”
“My prints?”
“Yes, your fingerprints.” She tosses a quick glance to the woods. “We already have Opal’s on file.”
“Why does this not surprise me?” I say it low, but she chuckles regardless.
“I guess you know Opal well enough. Name and address, please.”
Oh God. If ever I wanted to kill my ex twice over, it’s right about now.
“Bowie.” I swallow hard. “Buxom.” I gasp. “I’m sorry. Brighton. Gah! I mean, Bixby, um, Binx.” Oh dear Lord up in heaven. I might just ring my Uncle Vinnie’s neck, too. “Bowie Binx. Sorry—I’m a bit nervous.”
“Don’t be.” She waves it off. “You just saw a dead body. And you picked up a gun. Two things that can put the jitters in just about anyone. Address, please.”
I offer a pleading look to Shep and my stomach ignites with heat. My hormones have never been good at unleashing themselves at an appropriate moment.
Shep gives a long blink of disdain before looking her way.
“Bowie is staying with me, in my spare cabin,” he says it with a sigh.
The woman lifts a curious brow, first at him, then at me. She pulls her phone forward before looking to Shep.
“So, how exactly do the two of you know each other?” she poses the question my way, but Shep clears his throat, clearly wanting to take the wheel on the half-truth express.
“Opal introduced us.” His lips rise with a tight smile. “Bowie is managing the café. Regina was let go of her position.”
A soft chuckle emits from the woman.
“Well then.” The words stream from her, rife with sarcasm, as she looks up and down at me.
And why do I suddenly feel as if she’s judging me?
She leans in. “Let me reintroduce myself. Nora Grimsley. I’m one of Shepherd’s many, many exes. If you feel the need to press charges or speak with me about the homicide at hand”—she holds out a business card—“feel free to call.” She scowls at Shep before taking off.
I bite down over my lip a moment. “I take it things ended badly?”
Shep folds his arms across his chest. “They didn’t end well, but it was for the best. Let’s get you inside. You’re shivering.”
“Did you mean what you said? About the cabin?” I won’t lie. The word cabin invokes images of a roaring fire, a cozy bed covered with a handmade quilt, and a stack of fresh made pancakes magically waiting for me in the morning. A girl can dream. I can just see myself swaddled in patchwork quilts. And what I wouldn’t do to lose myself beneath the covers with this man—I mean, this man’s cabin.
Shepherd tips his head to the right as he inspects me. “Yes, as a favor to Opal.”
“Of course.” My lips twist. “For Opal.”
I head back into the manor where about a dozen cute furry kitties greet me and I pick up the one nearest to me, an exotic looking creature with dark stripes and spots against his tan fur.
The lights in the venue hall have raised another notch and the murmur of voices is deafening.
A blonde runs over holding the hand of a man with a scraggly beard, and I recognize her from earlier as Perry’s girlfriend, Devin O’Malley.
“Oh, please tell me he’s going to be all right.” She gives my shoulders a quick shake. “Nicki said you were out there with him.” Her lips are quivering, and her eyes glitter with tears.
“Um”—I hitch my thumb to the open door in the back—“I’m not really sure I’m qualified to say how he’s doing.”
He’s doing dead, but I’m pretty sure it’s not my place to break it to her.
The look of worry on her face is quickly replaced with anger.
“Come on, Bud,” she snaps. “It’s time we see this for ourselves.” She yanks him away and I watch as they make their way out of the room. That must be her brother, the one she threw herself on earlier in the night. Something about the way Devin flipped her emotions on a dime doesn’t sit well with me. I’ve seen every kind of grieving possible. Believe me, the mob can make an entire rainbow of grief happen and I’ve seen a rainbow of boo-hoos, too. I can spot bogus bereavement in a crowd any day, and I think I just did.
A shiver runs through me as I delve deeper into the crowded room and I gasp as I spot the man who was arguing with Perry just before the show. It’s the one he got into a shoving match with.
He gives a quick look around the room. And as the sheriff’s department begins to stream in, he streams right on out.
How do you like that? Well, I can’t say I blame the guy. I don’t plan on sticking around either.
Before long, the room clears out. Detective Grimsley lets me know she wants me to stop by the sheriff’s department at some point tomorrow to take my prints. Nothing to worry about, procedure only.
Too bad for me, because I’m already worried about it.
Opal asks me to close the place down. Saying she needs her beauty sleep, she scoops up four cats and heads for the stairs.
Tilly and I herd the remainder of the people out of the hall and leave the sheriff’s department to handle the rest of their business.
Soon, it’s just Shepherd and me standing in front of the manor with a sky full of spring stars, the scent of murder still fresh in the air.
He gives me a ride to his place, no less than three city blocks from the manor, a welcome relief, considering the fact I could easily walk to work until I get Wanda fixed.
Shep lives on a tree-lined street, last house on the block in a cabin that looks as if it’s made out of Lincoln Logs. He walks me around back and lets me into a cozy one-bedroom that’s furnished with a comfy black and white checkered sofa and small round table up front, big enough for two. There’s a fireplace and a braided rug, a coffee maker, and fridge. And oddly, that’s about all I care about.
“How much do I owe you?” I hear the words streaming from my lips, and a part of me wants to shake my head.
“It’s on Opal.” He gives a little wink and my stomach is right back to bisecting with heat. His dark hair looks thick and glossy, and my fingers fight the urge to run through it. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” Good to know this new version of me doesn’t seem to have a problem with fibbing.
“I’m sorry you had such a rough night.” He takes a breath and his chest expands to the width of the door. “Regardless, welcome to Starry Falls.”
“Thank you.”
He says goodnight, and I lock the door behind him.
I’ve been in this crazy town for less than twenty-four hours and I’ve already gained employment, found a murder victim, became a suspect, and met a man with the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen.
Something buzzes in my pocket and I jump as I pull out that burner phone Uncle Vinnie gave me. I stare at the device as if it were a portal to another world entirely, one I never want to return to, not that I can.
A part of me hesitates to answer it and I let it ring endlessly in my hand until it finally goes quiet.
I’m too tired, too beat down, too weary right down to my soul to go there tonight.
Instead, I crawl into the most comfortable bed in the world and curl up with about a dozen patchwork quilts and dream of Perry Flint’s lifeless body staring up at the sky.
Somebody killed Perry Flint tonight, and they just might get away with murder.
Chapter 5
The café at the manor is bustling this morning with what I would classify as a bona fide rush. It’s all hands on deck, working the floor, and the cooks in the back have already threatened to quit twice before ten in the morning before the crowd finally dies down.
Opal waltzes in wearing a lavender and black dress with puffy sleeves and black beading running down the front. She has on her signature red lipstick and her eyes are heavily drawn in with black kohl and dark eye shadow to boot. But her best accessory by far is the fuzzy cat in her arms that resembles a miniature leopard.
“Hello, cutie,” I say, leaning over the counter and giving the sweet feline a quick scratch between the ears. Its eyes glow like ambers and it has a genuine inquisitiveness about it. “I do believe you were the first creature I met in this town.”
Opal drops a kiss to its ear. “This is King. He’s in charge of the manor. The rest of the cats are his minions.” She gives a little wink before leaning in. “Who knew having a homicide on the grounds would be good for business?” Her eyes grow large a moment.
Tilly nods. “That’s right. I think we easily made twice as much as we normally do by afternoon.”
Opal’s mouth rounds out with delight. “If I had any idea it would double my morning revenue, I’d order up a body or two more often.” She belts out a laugh before looking to Tilly. “Don’t forget about Stitch Witchery tonight. I’ll need the library arranged in preparation.” She taps her fingertips together. “And ask the chef to whip up some scones. No raisins this time.” She wrinkles her nose as Tilly glides a cup of coffee her way and she takes off to greet the customers.
“Stitch Witchery?” I raise a brow at Tilly.
She’s got her hair up in a messy bun and there’s a bit of a cinnamon roll swirly effect going on with those chunky highlights of hers. She’s squeezed herself into a tube top that I’m not one hundred percent certain meets the dress code I’m about to implement, but since I can’t afford to send anyone home to change, least of all her, I decide to let it slide for today. And if I’m being completely honest, Tilly’s lack of proper accouterments might just be a contributing factor to the mostly male masses that have poured through the door.
“It’s a stitch and bitch.” Tilly pours herself a cup of coffee. “But since we’re not allowed to use what Opal likes to call salty language, she’s sort of given it a name she can live with. It’s another ploy of hers to milk money from the masses. In the event you haven’t noticed, Opal is a displaced socialite trying to claw her way up from the ashes.”
“That’s right. You mentioned the baton girl and the feds.” I shake my head at the thought. I’m feeling more and more solidarity with the woman by the hour. I glance her way and note she’s donned a pair of fishnet stockings that have rhinestones riding up the back of the seam. It takes a lot of character to get away with wearing something like that this early in the morning. “I like her.” I shrug. “She’s eccentric and completely out of touch with the common people. I’ve been disillusioned a time or two myself. I have a feeling we’ll get along just fine.”
Meow for Murder Mysteries Boxed Set Page 4
