The Trouble with Cupid

by Carolyn Haines

  Love can make anything look shiny and new, but I didn’t need any rose-colored glasses because there was no need to see Steve as anything more than he really was. His eyes were bluer than the clearest sky, his hair thick and dark like an early George Clooney, and his smile brighter than Luke Bryan’s. I crushed on him immediately, but I really started falling in love with him when I experienced his compassion, sense of humor, kindness, and brilliance. And he was immediately sweet to my calico furry baby Belle, which was endearing.

  This week would be our first Valentine’s Day together. When I mentioned it—not quite in passing, I have to admit—Steve told me he thought it was just an excuse for florists to overcharge for roses and greeting card companies to sell cards. All the usual reasons guys gave when they didn’t want to celebrate the most romantic of holidays. I shouldn’t allow my feelings to be hurt by it. He usually was extremely thoughtful, and I guess that’s what should count. But I couldn’t help hoping he’d change his mind.

  There was one thing he’d never changed his mind about, though. Steve told me he decided to become a pulmonologist when he was just twelve, after his dad died during a horrendous asthma attack that Steve had actually witnessed. No child should go through that. And Steve and I are both determined that Brady’s smart and feisty young daughter, Andrea, will grow up with her dad beside her.

  * * *

  The next day, Andrea—whom everyone calls Andy—and I had finished hanging up her homemade Valentine’s Day decorations all over the living room, her dad’s room, and her bedroom. Even though I might not have a special Valentine’s Day coming up, that was no reason to ruin her fun.

  Since Brady’s personal assistant had married and moved to Texas, I’d been helping out a little with Andy. I’d grown to feel like I was her aunt, so was a joy instead of a chore. I would never in a million years understand why her mom, Cyndi, didn’t fight for custody when she and Brady divorced, but I was so glad Andy had a dad who—despite his busy career—put her first in his life.

  To celebrate her dad’s coming home, we’d decorated sugar cookies to have later tonight, and now she was bored. “Since Darth canceled practice, I don’t have anything else to do until supper,” she whined.

  Oh, yeah. She called her guitar teacher Darth because he always wore only black and barked out orders in a deep voice like Darth Vader.

  Turning to wink exaggeratedly at my feline guest, who’d come to Brady’s house with me, I said, “By the way, I have to meet your dad and Steve at The Hip Joint for a ‘Songwriters at Six’ show. One of Steve’s best friends—an orthopedic surgeon at St. Thomas—is one of its owners, and his wife manages it. They told me it was okay for a famous detective like Trouble to hang out there with us. Would you be interested in joining us?”

  “Sure!” She brightened. “Just don’t let Trouble take off in pursuit of any suspicious characters,” I warned, only half-joking. That was so exactly what Trouble might do and, while I hoped to make use of his sleuthing skills, I didn’t have time to search the city for him. I also wanted to protect Andy. Her heroine was Nancy Drew, and from the determined glint in her eyes, I knew she was itching to take off with Trouble to help figure out the mystery of who had tried to hurt her dad.

  She hesitated just long enough for me to gear up for a protest, then she finally said, “Just let me give Captain Kidd some of his hay before we leave.” I noticed she didn’t exactly acquiesce, but I couldn’t leave her home alone. I sighed. Now I had two investigators I had to make sure didn’t sneak off.

  Captain Kidd was Andy’s adorable pet house goat. Trouble had deigned to curl up with The Captain for a cozy nap on the blanketed couch earlier today, and I snapped a couple of quick pics with my iPhone to send to Tammy Lynn. It was so sweet it almost made my teeth hurt.

  “Andy, can you please grab a warm towel from the dryer for Trouble’s carrier?”

  When she left the room, I whispered, “Sorry, Trouble. I have to be a good influence and not let her know I let you ride next to me without even a seatbelt. And I know you’d love for me to pick up Belle, but she’s such a homebody. She would hate going out of the house, even for you. And you’ll see her later and can tell her all about your day, okay?”

  The things I put up with! But that warm towel does sound rather nice, and I do want to go to The Hip Joint with Aunt Julia, so I actually don’t mind. It’s too bad we can’t bring along my beautiful Belle or even Captain Kidd. He has rather good manners and is surprisingly clean, even if he’s not impeccably groomed as we cats are. He also is, naturally, suitably impressed with stories of my adventures and all the cases I’ve cracked. Of course, I’m also anxious to get home later tonight to tell Belle about The Hip Joint. Until then, though, I must turn my mind back to solving my latest mystery.

  I listened last night to Aunt Julia and Steve talking about the suspects. It seems to me there are four prime suspects. The first is Brady’s ex-wife, Cyndi. Don’t they say it’s always the ex-wife? When they split, Brady was awarded full custody of Andy, who very rarely has agreed to even see her mum. Andy’s a bright girl, so she probably has very good reasons, which doesn’t make me think highly of Cyndi. Since Brady doesn’t have to give her any child support, that makes her even more likely, in my view.

  Speaking of money, Aunt Julia told Steve that Webster Carter, Brady’s manager, took out a three-million-dollar life insurance policy on Brady. Rather suspicious timing, if you ask me.

  Another possibility is an obsessed fan named Sylvia Moore who’s followed Brady all over the country for years. Aunt Julia said he’s always polite to her but Brady doesn’t want to ever be alone with Sylvia. She’s apparently a bit of a nut job, and Aunt Julia said she acts jealous of every woman who even asks Brady for an autograph.

  On the subject of jealousy, Dave Monroe keeps losing out to Brady for every award possible. Steve said Brady told him the only reason Dave sent a huge fruit basket to his hospital room was so nobody would suspect him of trying to do Brady in.

  I’m certain they’re planning to talk more about their theories after the show this evening, though Andy’s presence may make them more circumspect about their suspicions regarding her mother. Andy is so precocious, though, that they may well discuss the others in front of her. She inexplicably prefers Nancy Drew to Sherlock Holmes, but is still young yet, so I haven’t given up hope that she’ll appreciate his superiority.

  * * *

  “The Hip Joint definitely is the coolest coffee shop in town,” a bubbly Andy raved. “Thanks so much for letting me come with you. Do you think I could have a latte?”

  “Would you settle for a cup of my favorite Angel’s Dream tea instead? It’s even better with a slice of their pound cake and strawberries, and we can pretend we’re having High Tea with Harry and Meghan at Kensington Palace!”

  “Dessert before supper—I like it!” Andy decided. “Hey, Julia, do you know when Daddy and Steve will get here?”

  “How about now?” Brady asked. He smilingly pulled up a chair from the table behind his daughter as she reached up to hug him. “I’m glad you brought her and our favorite sleuth along, Julia. I feel better knowing Trouble is on the job.” He smoothed Trouble’s velvety black fur. “And maybe we could order some of those tuna salad sandwiches to share with him.”

  “What a loud purr! I swear he’s smiling at you, Brady!” I laughed, as Steve slid into the chair next to me, reaching for my hand.

  “We’re going to have to discuss the case later,” Steve murmured, nodding at the party in the opposite corner.

  I nudged Brady. “Your esteemed rival, Dave, seems to have made a royal appearance. Ten-to-one he’s trying to talk your favorite co-writer into giving him a hold on his newest song.”

  Brady’s smile didn’t falter. “Don’t think for a second that I’d take that bet. I’m sure you’re right about Dave’s plans, but I’m not worried. I’ve been friends with Del Moon as long as I’ve been in town, and he’s already promised me that song,”


  Dave and his entourage noisily settled in at the table next to that occupied by Del and his ten-year-old daughter, Melody, who went to St. Bernard Academy with Andy. I noticed Melody motioning for Andy to “come on over.”

  Our usual server stopped by the table with menus. “We don’t need them, Dixie,” Brady said. “We’ll have a big platter of the pimento cheese and the tuna salad sandwiches with two black coffees, two cups of Angel’s Dream tea, four slices of your special pound cake with strawberries, and a big bowl of filtered water and an extra plate for our little friend here. That oughta hold us til supper.”

  Dixie smiled. “I do like customers who know what they want. I’ll go place your order.” She started to walk off, then turned back. “And Brady, I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “Thank you, darlin’. I’m just glad to be here.”

  Andy waited politely before asking, “Daddy, may I go over to Del’s table for a little while to talk to Melody?”

  Brady grinned. “Sure, sweetheart. Just be sure to come back before the music starts and…”

  They laughingly chorused together, “Stay in my line of sight!”

  The three of us chuckled until Dave sauntered over to our table. “Well, hello, Brady. I didn’t realize you were out of the hospital.”

  “Happy to say I’m doing fine, thanks to Dr. Taylor here.”

  “Oh, so you’re the one we have to thank for that,“ Dave said in a decidedly non-grateful tone. “It’s so fortunate you were able to regulate his meds.”

  “What makes you think there was a problem with his meds?”, Steve asked mildly.

  “Uh, it was what I heard on the news, I’m pretty sure,” Dave answered uncomfortably.

  I smiled inside because I couldn’t stand Dave and had secretly hoped he was the culprit. “So what brings you here this afternoon, Dave?”

  “Like everybody else here, I admire all the writers on the show. In fact, I’m expecting friends to join me, so I’d better go check to see if they’re here yet. If you’ll excuse me…” His voice trailed off as he hurriedly walked away.

  Dixie passed by on her way outside to deliver a carside “to go” order. “The tea’s brewing, and the sandwiches are almost ready. Be back soon.”

  “Can you believe Dave’s nerve?” I asked, shaking my head.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s a rhetorical question,” Steve commented wryly.

  “He absolutely is at the top of my list. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him,” I affirmed.

  “Well, I still haven’t ruled out my ex, that crazy fan, or even Webster. I don’t want to think it’s Cydi, but she only cares about money, not our beautiful, smart daughter. She probably doesn’t even realize Andy’s skipped a grade, and never once went to see her sing in her school choir or act in her class play.” He sighed.

  I turned my thoughts to Brady’s manager. “Webster seemed to have good reasons for taking out that humongous insurance policy, but I don’t think he has one that big on any of his other artists.”

  Brady shook his head. “Webster and I have worked together for a long time. He arranged that summer TV series for me that really pushed my career to a new level. I owe him a lot, and I can’t understand why he’d want to hurt me. Maybe we’ll get a better feel for what’s going on with him once he gets here for the show.”.

  I hesitated before gently asking, “Did you know he gambles a lot in Vegas? A lot. And Vegas isn’t known for letting gamblers win all that often.”

  “He told me he mostly went to shows when he hung out in Vegas. But he never seemed to come back with any new opening acts or ideas for staging,” Brady said, deep in thought. “But the most obvious to me—besides Dave—might be Sylvia. She just won’t leave me alone. She spends a fortune flying to my shows, and I’ve gotten some bizarre mail and gifts from her. She even asked Webster if she could ride on my tour bus. Thank goodness he managed to convince her that the band took up every available seat. But I never have actually seen her behave violently.”

  The sound of a loud bang, like a backfiring car, came from the parking lot, followed by Dixie’s ear-piercing screams.

  * * *

  “Oh, my God! Somebody help me! He’s dead! I just know he’s dead!” Dixie kept shouting.

  Brady, Steve, and I hollered in unison at Andy to stay inside with Trouble, Melody, and Del while we ran outside with everybody else. Dixie was kneeling beside Dave, who lay still on the pavement. His arm was stretched out as though he’d been reaching out to his killer, and blood soaked the front of his beige jacket. It looked like the bullet’s impact had knocked him flat on his back.

  Steve clasped my hand hard before releasing it to check on Dave. He felt for a pulse and checked his eyes, but it had to be obvious to him before he knelt beside Dixie that Dave no longer occupied his body. He caught my gaze then Brady’s before shaking his head almost imperceptibly. Then he wrapped his coat around Dixie’s shivering body. When the ambulance pulled up, Steve asked the EMTs to treat her for shock.

  Dave didn’t need an ambulance. He wasn’t going anywhere until the Metro Nashville Police Department and the coroner showed up. A PD unit with the Chief himself pulled up as soon as that thought crossed my mind.

  Steve shook hands with the Chief, then he explained what little we knew. Brady had gone back into The Hip Joint to keep Andy and Melody away from the gruesome scene.

  Steve came back over to me and enfolded me in a strong embrace. I held him right back, never wanting to let go. Even at a time like that, I wondered how he always managed to smell like he’d just stepped out of the shower. His scent was a subtle blend of sandalwood and musk, and I could feel my heartbeat slowing to his rhythm as I breathed him in. I was so lost in him that I almost missed it when he quietly said what I already knew, that none of us would be going home anytime soon.

  I felt a warm, soft rub against my leg and looked down to see Trouble. I should’ve known he’d be right in the thick of the action. To tell the truth, it was a little comforting to have him there. I believed everything Tammy Lynn had told me about his penchant for finding clues that broke cases wide open. She said he even planted himself directly in front of the TV when Benedict Cumberbatch’s Sherlock aired on PBS, and didn’t move a muscle until the end of each episode.

  * * *

  I can tell Aunt Julia is glad I’m here to help. I’m going to look around and try to find anything I can to reveal the killer’s identity. Nothing is on the concrete but the body and the parked cars. Hmm, I see something gleaming inside the bush at the side of the lot. It looks like shiny fabric, maybe one of the sparkly headbands so popular now. It’s rather windy out here. If Dave pulled it off his attacker, it could have blown into the bush. I remember seeing pictures that Aunt Julia and Brady showed to Steve of all the likely suspects who might have tampered with Brady’s inhaler. In a couple pictures of the female suspects, they were wearing fancy headbands. I don’t think that manager would have worn one, though there’s no accounting for some bipeds’ choice of attire.

  With this latest development, it doesn’t seem likely that Dave was the one who tried to kill Brady, but I personally wouldn’t rule it out yet. After all, it doesn’t necessarily mean one criminal went after them both. Someone could have realized Dave tried to off Brady and then got revenge on him for it. Or there really could be just one person trying to kill country’s biggest stars.

  “Oh, Steve this is just unbelievable,” I sobbed. “Does this mean Brady’s still in danger or does it mean he’s safe now? What if Andy had walked out with us and seen Dave’s bloody body?”

  “Julia, we’re going to figure this out. I promise you that we’ll make sure Brady is safe. I won’t let anything happen to you or Andy, either.”

  Unflinching green eyes looked up at us. Steve hastily added, “Or to Trouble or Belle or Captain Kidd.”

  Trouble seemed to nod in satisfaction before striding determinedly over to an evergreen bush. He turned to make sure we were watching, then he pawed at
some fabric caught in a branch. He looked into our faces and softly “meowed.” Nobody else seemed to have noticed the fabric yet.

  I quietly went over, bent to pet him, then pulled the material off the branch. “So do you think this headband could belong to the killer, Trouble?”

  I interpreted his abrupt “me-ow!” as meaning “Of course, you silly human!”

  * * *

  When we went back inside, we saw that the kitchen staff had packed up our order to take home with us. We were shivering from the cold outside so the guys ordered fresh coffee while Andy and I sipped some hot chocolate with whipped cream. The songwriters’ night had, of course, been called off, but Brady didn’t want to bring Andy outside until Dave’s body had been taken away. The police were still interviewing the shop’s patrons, but they were wrapping up.

  Almost everyone still in The Hip Joint was talking softly, still stunned by Dave’s murder. Everybody had to be wondering if it was random or a targeted hit. Nobody at our table was talking much at all. I think we all were still pretty much in shock over everything that had happened the past few days.

  Brady’s phone rang, and he picked up. “Webster, where are you? Yeah, we’re still here. We should be heading back to the house in about 15 minutes. Okay, we’ll see you there.”

  He looked at the questioning eyes looking back at him. “Well, he says he got held up on a couple calls then heard a breaking news report on WSMV about the shooting. He sounded pretty shaken up. So he thought it’d be better to just meet us at home instead of coming down here.”

  “It’d sure be good to know who he was on the phone with,” I mused, “but I don’t know that I’d trust his answer.”

  The detective in charge of the evening’s investigation came in to tell us Dave’s body was off the premises, so we put our coats and gloves back on then trooped out to our vehicles. This time, Brady drove Andy while Steve and I followed in his car to Brady’s sprawling ranch-style home on Franklin Pike. When we pulled up, we saw that Webster had beaten us there.