Wicked Delight

by Lily Harper Hart

  “Not a ghost,” Ivy replied. “I saw a ... shadow. I don’t know how else to explain it. I knew we were heading in the right direction, though, because the shadow led us directly to where we needed to be.”

  Jack shifted, uncomfortable. “What kind of shadow?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Kind of like Peter Pan when he was missing his shadow and it came looking for him. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “Okay.” Jack held up his hands in surrender. “I’m not trying to box you in. I’m simply trying to understand.”

  “I know you are.” Ivy adjusted her attitude, reminding herself it wasn’t Jack’s fault everything was happening at an accelerated pace these days. He wasn’t the one causing it. “It was weird. I don’t know how to explain it.”

  “That’s perfectly all right.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “We’ll figure it out.”

  “We will,” Brian agreed, turning his attention to the door when it opened. The bulk of the Hearts on Fire cast strolled through the front door, everyone excitedly talking to one another and seemingly having a good time. “They don’t look like they’re grieving, do they?”

  Ivy swiveled so she could see the group, scowling when she caught sight of Maisie and Ava. “No ... and I’m a bit grossed out that those two are trying to worm their way into the production.”

  “What about Max?” Jack asked, amused when he saw his future brother-in-law tailing the crowd. “Are you grossed out with him, too? He seems to be fitting in.”

  Ivy’s scowl deepened. “Ugh. Why is he doing this?”

  “Because he’s Max,” Brian replied simply. “I don’t think it’s necessarily a bad idea. He’s gregarious and people like him. Someone might let something slip.”

  “Which would put him in danger,” Ivy pointed out. “If he gets too close to a killer, that won’t be good.”

  “No,” Brian agreed. “We’ll just have to hope that doesn’t happen.”

  “Yeah, I guess.” Ivy turned back to her salad. “I’m going to hang around town this afternoon and keep my ear to the ground. I’ll let you know if I stumble across anything.”

  Jack made a low groaning sound. “Ugh. Why can’t you go to work?”

  “Because that’s not who I am ... and you said you love who I am, so you’re stuck with me.”

  “To my absolute joy,” he said, tickling her to elicit a smile. “Maddening joy that takes me over every minute of every day.”

  “That was laying it on a little thick,” Ivy noted.

  “Way thick,” Brian complained.

  “I’ll try to tone it down, but I can’t promise anything.”

  Seven

  The Sheridan house was essentially a compound. Resting on thirty acres, with a beautiful view of Round Lake, the house was three floors of over-indulgence that caused Jack to arch an eyebrow and Brian to look around in wonder as they waited in the sitting room for the family patriarch, Archibald Sheridan, to join them.

  “You know, I saw a thing on one of those home shows, and they say this place is worth close to seven million,” Brian whispered, his eyes as big as saucers. “They say that the boats are parked in the house on the bottom floor.”

  Jack had trouble picturing that, but he decided to take his partner’s word for it. “Why would you want to park a boat in the house?”

  “Why not? Can you imagine, over the long winter, being able to go downstairs and sit on your boat without leaving the house?”

  To Brian, that was obviously the coolest thing he’d ever heard of. To Jack, it held no appeal. “I think I prefer a smaller home, one where I can sit in front of the fire with my wife and watch a storm swirl outside and simply be thankful I have her and warmth inside.”

  Brian rolled his eyes. “You know, sometimes I think it’s cute that you fall over yourself the way you do when Ivy is around. I mean ... I like how you love her, don’t get me wrong. I was starting to wonder if anyone would be able to take her on, given her personality and refusal to kowtow to societal norms.

  “However, you’re getting to be a bit much,” he continued. “I’m not saying that to be mean. I’m saying it out of love. You’re my partner and I’m loyal to you. On the flip side, you’re getting ridiculous. You need to snap out of this.”

  Jack’s lips curved. “I’m just in a good mood. She finally set the date.”

  “Did you think she wouldn’t?”

  When Jack didn’t immediately answer, Brian cocked his head to the side.

  “You can’t be serious,” he said a couple seconds later. “You thought she wasn’t going to set a date. Jack ... .”

  Jack worked his jaw. “It’s not that. It’s just ... the longer it took her, the more worried I got. I can’t help it. I know what I want. It’s just that so much has happened in the past year. With the things that went down a few weeks ago, well, I was nervous. Sue me.”

  Brian took pity on his partner. “Ivy might not be sure what’s happening with some of that … stuff.” He was careful to avoid using the M-word because it made him uncomfortable. “She might doubt herself sometimes, but I guarantee she never doubts you. You can’t see it because you’re too close, but the way she looks at you is something to behold.

  “She needs you,” he continued. “You need her, too. Whatever happens, you guys are going to get through it. I don’t know that I’ve ever believed in destiny or the like before, but I certainly believe it now. You guys are destined to be together ... so shut up and stop your whining.”

  Jack bit back a chuckle, which was a good thing, because Éclair’s father picked that moment to join them. He was a severe-looking man, his suit pressed to within an inch of its life. Archibald Sheridan was a formidable man used to people quaking in fear at his presence. When neither Jack nor Brian rushed forward to gush over him, he reacted with a boatload of negativity.

  “My butler informed me that you insisted on talking to me in person rather than leaving a message with him.” Sheridan’s tone was snotty, like out of a bad movie. If anyone was in need of a cartoon villain, Jack thought, Sheridan would make for great inspiration. “That’s not generally how I operate.”

  “Yes, well, we’re with the police,” Brian pointed out. “We have a certain way we’re expected to operate, and it’s basically ordained by the government, so we get to do what we want.”

  Jack pressed his lips together to keep from laughing, but it was a lot of work.

  “Fine.” Sheridan sat in the chair at the head of the room, his back ramrod straight. “How can I help the Shadow Lake Police Department? I’m not even sure I know where Shadow Lake is ... unless, is it that town that has a barn smackdab in the middle of things?”

  “It is,” Brian confirmed.

  “Yes. I make it a rule not to visit Shadow Lake because I hate barns.”

  “Well, I’m sorry to hear how you’ve suffered,” Brian started, reeling himself in quickly when reminded why he was there. “Sir, we’re here to talk to you about Éclair.”

  Sheridan’s expression never changed. “I see. What about her?”

  “Well, I don’t know if you’re aware, but she was in Shadow Lake to film a reality television show.”

  “I didn’t know she was in Shadow Lake, but I knew about that abysmal show. I’m hopeful she’ll come to her senses and back out before she does anything to embarrass the family. Lord knows she’s done plenty enough before now.”

  Brian collected himself. “Sir, we regret to inform you that your daughter passed away last evening. It was sometime during the overnight hours. We’re still waiting for an exact time of death, but we believe it was around three in the morning.”

  Sheridan’s expression never changed. “I see. Well, thank you for informing me.”

  Jack’s eyes widened as he briefly met his partner’s gaze. “Don’t you want to know how she died?”

  “I’m assuming it was an accident.”

  “Well, you know what they say about people who assume things.”

&
nbsp; Sheridan didn’t say anything, merely waited.

  “Sir, your daughter didn’t die in some horrible accident,” Brian supplied. “She was murdered. We’re still tracking down the details, but somehow she ran into the wrong person and that individual beat her to death. We’re waiting on the exact cause, but she was violently attacked.”

  “That’s awful,” Sheridan intoned, shaking his head. “I wonder if that will infringe on having an open casket. Funeral homes can do wonders these days but ... I guess I’ll have to ask them. I can’t expect you to answer that question.”

  Jack was incredulous. “Do you have any questions you want to ask us?”

  “Should I?”

  “Well ... .” Jack broke off, uncertain what to say. Thankfully, at that moment, another man entered the room. He was younger, dressed in khakis and a sweater, and he was obviously confused as he glanced between faces.

  “I saw the police car in the driveway,” he said. “I’m Archie Sheridan.” He extended his hand. “This is my father.”

  Brian rose and shook hands with the man. “I’m Brian Nixon. I’m a detective with the Shadow Lake Police Department. We’re here to talk with your father about Éclair.”

  “What happened to Éclair?” Archie knit his eyebrows. “Is she okay? Does she need bail money ... again?”

  “She’s not okay,” Brian replied, bracing himself a second time.

  Archie was much more upset than his father at the news. “I don’t understand how this happened. I ... .” He glanced at his father, who was slowly getting to his feet. “Where are you going?”

  “Upstairs,” Sheridan replied. “I have conference calls to make. I trust I can leave you to handle this.”

  “But ... .”

  “I have a great many things to do, Archie,” Sheridan snapped. “You can handle your sister’s latest misadventure. I think the one thing we can both agree on is that we’re happy we won’t have to bail her out yet again. Am I right?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, instead disappearing from the room.

  “I apologize for my father,” Archie said automatically, giving Jack the impression he’d uttered those very words multiple times. “He’s not as bad as he seems. It’s just ... okay, he’s worse than he seems.” He sank into a chair and rubbed his forehead. “Tell me about Éclair.”

  Brian did as he asked, running through the information in a clean and concise manner. When he was done, Archie looked to be on the verge of tears. “We’re sorry for your loss,” the police detective offered.

  “Thank you.” Archie managed to keep himself in check. “I don’t know what to say. I just ... I can’t believe this has happened.”

  “Were you close with your sister?” Brian asked.

  “Not at all.” Archie chuckled hollowly. “I know that sounds awful, but we have different mothers. My mother was my father’s first wife. She managed to get a nice chunk of his fortune in their divorce and I was the only child from that union.

  “Éclair’s mother was my father’s third wife,” he continued. “By then he’d learned about ironclad prenuptial agreements. Éclair’s mother left with nothing and the child support amount was already set. Even as an adult, my father gave Éclair a generous allowance.

  “I often wondered if that was a mistake,” he continued. “I stopped accepting mine when I finished college. Éclair felt entitled and she used some of her money to take care of her mother. My father didn’t show her much attention. That was reserved for his sons.”

  “How many sons?”

  “Two. Me and my brother Arnie. He’s only thirteen, though. His mother was my father’s fourth wife. She lasted eight years. That was a record, at least I think.”

  Jack felt indescribably sad for the man who sat in front of him. He was rich in some respects but recognized he was poor in others. “I’m sorry about your sister, no matter what she meant to you. The thing is, we need some information about the people she spent time with, her friends and the like.”

  “I would like to help you, but Éclair and I spent zero time together,” Archie replied. “Honestly, I think the last time we talked was eighteen months ago and that’s when I told her Father would not be buying her a Tesla. She vowed to cut off my penis and feed it to an alligator and took off. We haven’t spoken since, to my recollection.”

  Jack sighed. “Well, what about her mother? Can you put us in touch with her?”

  “That I can do.”

  IVY SPENT THE AFTERNOON WATCHING the production crew’s shenanigans. They set up shop in the town square, even going so far as to break out cameras so they could get footage of the men and their mourning rituals. To Ivy’s utter shock, the men who had been laughing and carrying on only moments before were putting on a show of faux tears and manful throat-clearing. It was so over-the-top she had to fight the urge to storm toward them and start yelling ... and maybe kicking.

  “It’s disgusting, isn’t it?” Max asked, moving to stand with his sister.

  “It’s definitely disgusting,” she agreed, turning so she could survey her brother’s profile. His eyes were sparkling as he surveyed the action around him. “You’re having a good time, huh?”

  “I don’t know about that. I’m not having a bad time. I enjoy learning about the production process.”

  He delivered the lines in such a straightforward and earnest manner that most people would’ve had no problem believing him. Ivy knew him better than most.

  “Oh, stuff it,” she snapped, shaking her head. “You’re having a great time. You like the idea of being on television just as much as these morons.” One of the men — she couldn’t remember his name and honestly didn’t care — shot her a dark look. “Sorry, but it’s true. You’re a moron.”

  Max bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the man’s hateful expression. “You always know how to make friends, Ivy. I mean ... seriously. How are you still single?”

  “I’m not single. I’m getting married.”

  “You haven’t set a date. I’m not believing it until you set a date.”

  “August 20, smart guy. We have set a date so ... .” She stuck out her tongue, an immature impulse from when she was a child.

  “Oh, I’m so glad to see you guys are getting along,” a female voice drawled, causing both Morgans to turn quickly, guilt coursing over them.

  There, to their utter chagrin, stood their mother Luna on the sidewalk five feet away, her oversized bohemian purse clutched in front of her. She wasn’t alone. Her sister Felicity, a woman who embodied the word “witch” from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, watched the interaction with an amused look on her face.

  “Hey, Mom.” Max stepped forward first and pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek. “And look, it’s my favorite aunt.”

  “I’m your only aunt,” Felicity countered, giving Max a playful cuff to the back of the head before focusing on Ivy. “And how are you, dear? You look a little ... flustered.”

  “I’m not sure I like that word,” Ivy replied, giving her mother and aunt brief hugs before glancing back at the men, who were still putting on a show. “We have a bit of a situation. I don’t know if you’re aware.”

  “Why do you think we’re down here?” Luna challenged, excitement flitting over her pretty features as she grinned at the men mugging for the cameras. “They’re really filming a television show here. Can you believe it?”

  Ivy shrugged. “It’s not a real television show.”

  “What’s a real television show?” Max asked.

  “You know ... Stranger Things, The Golden Girls, Lost.”

  “Oh, The Golden Girls is magical,” Luna agreed. “Still, this is fun. I happen to love reality television.”

  Ivy wrinkled her nose. “Since when?”

  “Since always. I love the idea of two people falling in love in front of cameras. It’s ... magical.”

  “Well, at least you come by it honestly, Max,” Ivy commented, shaking her head. “It’s not magical,
Mom. It’s all an act. No one here is going to fall in love.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Actually, I do know that. The star of the show is dead. We found her a few hours ago.”

  “We heard,” Felicity said. “Your name was mentioned on the radio report. That’s the other reason we’re down here. We wanted to make sure you were all right.”

  “I have a phone,” Ivy reminded them. “You could’ve called.”

  “And miss Hollywood visiting Shadow Lake? Bite your tongue, Ivy Morgan.” Luna pushed past her daughter and positioned herself next to Max. Side by side as they were, it was impossible not to notice the resemblance.

  “Your brother gets a lot of his more ... eccentric, I guess that would be the word ... impulses from your mother,” Felicity volunteered. “She, in turn, got it from our mother. You really can’t blame either one of them.”

  “How come you’re normal?” Ivy challenged. “For that matter, how come I’m normal?”

  Felicity chuckled. “I don’t think that’s the word I would use to describe either of us. We’re simply odd in a different way.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I know so.” Felicity patted Ivy’s shoulder. “How are things otherwise? I mean ... when you’re not finding a dead body.”

  “They’re good. Jack and I set a date.”

  Luna swiveled quickly. “You did? When?”

  “August 20,” Max volunteered. “Clear your calendar.”

  “Oh, I’m so excited.” Luna clapped her hands. “When should we start looking for a dress?”

  “I’m picking out my own dress.” Ivy was firm. “No, don’t bother arguing. You have no say in the matter. You can help plan the menu and pick out flowers, though.”

  For a moment, Luna looked as if she was about to argue. Instead, she merely slumped her shoulders and sighed. “Fine.”

  “Great.” Ivy turned back to her aunt. “So, I saw something this morning.” She kept her voice low and explained about the shadow. The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her. “What do you think it was?”