Go!
I launched, baseball bat raised like a hammer. Estimating where she had to be, I swung with all my might. Hit something solid. The bat fell from my hand.
I rammed my body into the intruder’s.
We fell onto the steps, me on top, the intruder underneath. Someone screamed. The room lights flashed on. Ike towered over us, handgun pointed at the intruder’s head.
The wiry person beneath me squirmed, bucked, and yelled.
Ike made a chopping motion. Something clattered to the floor. I glanced down. A pink gun. Ike kicked it out of the way, did something to his gun, and pulled me up.
“Shoot her if she moves,” he said, thrusting his handgun in my hand and kneeling on Helen.
His weapon felt heavy and dangerous. If I moved wrong, I could accidentally shoot Ike.
Ike cuffed Helen and called to report the intrusion. “Help’s on the way.” He rose, secured Helen’s weapon, and pried his gun from my hand. “Thought you were waiting in the bathroom.”
“Couldn’t. Not with your life at risk.” I noted the gash on his head, the torn fabric of his vest. “You’re okay?”
“Feels like I took a fastball to the ribs, but the vest protected me. Because I was moving, the impact knocked me down. I nicked my head on the counter. Took me a second to regroup, but you had things well in hand. Thanks for the backup, partner.”
I basked in his praise. “Did you really expect me to shoot her?”
His lips twitched until a smile emerged. “Not possible with the safety on.”
~*~
“You people are making a big mistake,” Helen said to Ike after he’d gotten her situated in the interview room. She jangled the handcuff attaching her wrist to a ring in the table.
“Tell us about John Starling,” Ike prompted.
I sat beside him. He’d made me leave my phone in the office for this interview. It was going on four in the morning, and tomorrow was nearly here. Helen wouldn’t have many good tomorrows. She’d spend her life in jail if she was lucky, get the death penalty if she wasn’t.
An odd look came over Helen. Her gaunt skin turned orangey red like she’d been parboiled. “I don’t know any John Starling.”
“John Starling of Mobile, Alabama. The man you slept with instead of pining away for your allegedly dead husband. That John Starling. We know you know him. We have surveillance footage of the two of you at a restaurant here.”
We had no such thing, unless Ike found it and didn’t tell me. He must be bluffing. I crossed my fingers that Helen believed him.
“That’s a lie. We always ate at John’s place.”
Gotcha.
Helen wasn’t as smart as she thought.
“Was John your boyfriend?” Ike asked
“John was … a diversion. He wasn’t Lowell by any means. But he helped me.”
“With what?”
“Getting my revenge on Peggy Lou. She stole my man.”
From what I’d seen of Sonny – or Lowell as she knew him – he was a wuss. Nothing going personality-wise. I didn’t understand why these two women thought he was such hot stuff. Since Helen used Sonny and Deena’s real names, it followed that Ike would do the same for the interview.
“Did you sacrifice John to frame Peggy Lou?” Ike asked
Helen surveyed us as if we were underlings. “John said he’d help me.”
“He agreed to die for you?”
“I accepted his offer of help.”
I schooled my features to hide my disgust. Shooting him with a sharpshooter rifle. Not even facing him with her deception. What a coward.
“But Lowell took the blame,” Ike continued. “Your plan backfired, didn’t it?”
“He tried to save John. When that didn’t work, he fired both rifles, called the cops, and stayed in jail.”
“Why did you spare Lowell?”
“He’s mine, that’s why.”
“And Peggy Lou?”
“That bitch. I wish her hair would fall out, and her new boobs would pop.”
I hoped my eyes didn’t pop. Helen’s nasty and spiteful voice took me back to adolescence. I’d run across my share of mean girls, but Helen was in a league of her own.
“Did you plan to kill her?” Ike prompted.
“She put herself in that hidey hole. Now if you didn’t find her, her death wasn’t on me.”
“She couldn’t get out – because of you.”
“No one will believe it.”
Ike whipped out a flash drive. “Think again. Lowell had cameras all over that house. We have you cold.”
Helen tried to jerk her hand free again. When that didn’t work, she burst into tears. If Ike was bluffing again, he got her good. If he had the video, Helen was doomed. I felt no sympathy for her. She’d shot me and killed a man.
“You failed, Helen,” I said, my voice quivering. “Lowell and Peggy Lou are free of you.” Time for me to try a white lie of my own. “And we know it was you on the call directing me to the restaurant. Voice recognition software is amazing. Plus, we learned you have the marksmanship to pull off that sniper shot. Peggy Lou did not.”
“You should be dead,” Helen fumed. “If not for that stupid dog, you’d be gone, and Peggy Lou would’ve been declared the killer. You ruined everything.”
Ike’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the text and smiled. “Give it up, Helen. We found the money in your car.”
Helen pounded on the table with her free fist. “That’s my money. They stole it from me.”
“It’s the insurance company’s money, and they want it back.”
She jerked against the restraint and started screaming. “It’s my money. Nobody else can have it. It’s mine.”
“You won’t need any money where you’re going,” Ike said, rising. He motioned me to follow. “We’re done here.”
Ike and I beat a hasty retreat. The crowd of deputies emerged from the viewing room and clapped Ike on the back. He accepted their praise and held me close. I couldn’t stop trembling. “It’s over,” Ike murmured in my ear. “She’ll never hurt you again.”
Chapter 18
By the time Sunday evening rolled around, I was nearly a hundred percent. No more headaches and only a twinge in my arm if I moved the wrong way and pulled the stitches. The entire family surrounded me, bellies full of Low Country Boil and elated by Cousin Janey’s engagement announcement. Even Junior Curtis, Janey’s beau, was beaming.
“Janey’s getting the man of her dreams,” I whispered to Ike when we had a moment alone.
“What about the man of your dreams?” Ike asked in a loud voice.
The silence rang. It clanged. It echoed. I couldn’t fathom the meaning of his question. Me, the person who excelled at reading between the lines. I had nothing. Not even conjecture. We were together. He knew it, and I knew it. Why would he pose this personal question in front of our entire families?
Finally, I found my voice. “Ike? What’s going on?”
“Son,” Ike said over his shoulder, “it’s time.”
Trent walked up to me, solemnly holding Bailey’s leash. Bailey wore a new red collar, and something was tied to it with a pink ribbon. I dared not hope or dream. I couldn’t fathom where this was going. My nerves scattered to the four corners of the earth.
“Ike?”
He bent down on one knee beside Trent and Bailey. “Would you do me the honor of marrying us?”
I tugged on his arm, my cheeks flaming. “You don’t have to do this. I know how you feel about marriage.”
“We’re in life together, Linds. I want to make this official. On the books, so that everyone knows you’re mine. So I’m never excluded from your hospital room again, nor you from mine. What do you say?”
Through teary eyes, I glanced at him. “Yes. My answer is yes.”
Trent untied the ribbon on Bailey’s collar and handed something to Ike. A ring. The narrow band was white gold with twisted strands supporting the stone. The diamond flashed and spar
kled as it slid on my finger.
A perfect fit, just like Ike.
“You like it?” Ike asked.
I pulled him into a one-armed embrace. “I love it, and I love you and Trent and Bailey.”
Trent jumped up and down and Bailey barked. “We’re getting married,” Trent boomed. Ike kissed me while our family cheered. Junior Curtis came up afterward and clapped him on the back. “Welcome to the family, dude.”
“I got here first,” Ike said, holding me like I was a precious gem.
“Now, now, this isn’t a competition,” I said.
“It sure isn’t,” Janey said. “We’ve been talking to Ike about a double wedding. You in?”
I eyed the crowd. “Everyone knew he would propose tonight?”
“They did. It’s the worst kept secret in town,” Janey added. She leaned in. “But I might beat you in the baby race. We’ve been trying ever since Junior proposed.”
My head swirled again, and heat radiated from my core. Engagements. Marriage. Ike and I had never talked about having children. It was scary and terrifying and wonderful.
“Double wedding, yes or no?” Ike asked.
“Yes,” I somehow managed.
“Good. That’s settled.”
Alice Ann circulated with champagne for the adults, sparkling cider for the kids. Ike cinched one hand around my waist as we toasted everyone’s happiness.
He must’ve noticed I was overwhelmed because he whispered in my ear. “It’ll be okay. I promise. Don’t you trust me?”
“I do.”
Ike flashed a mischievous grin. “That’s my girl.”
--The End--
About the Author
Southern author Maggie Toussaint writes mystery, suspense, and dystopian fiction. Her work won the Silver Falchion Award for best mystery, the Readers’ Choice Award, and the EPIC Award. Under her name and her pen name of Rigel Carson, she’s published sixteen novels as well as several short stories and novellas. The next book in her paranormal mystery series, Confound It, releases June 2018. Maggie serves as Chapter President for Southeast Mystery Writers of America and as Vice-President for Low Country Sisters In Crime.
Connect with Maggie at the following sites:
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More Books by Maggie Toussaint
Thanks for reading my Lindsey & Ike Romantic Mystery novella series. I hope you’ll try my other series and standalone books.
Cleopatra Jones Mystery series
In for a Penny
On the Nickel
Dime If I Know
No Quarter (novella)
Dreamwalker Mystery series
Gone and Done It
Bubba Done It
Doggone It
Dadgummit
Confound It
Lindsey & Ike Romantic Mystery Novella series
“Really, Truly Dead”
“Turtle Tribbles”
“Dead Men Tell No Tales”
Single Title Mysteries
Death, Island Style
Murder in the Buff
Mossy Bog Romantic Suspense series
Muddy Waters
Hot Water
Rough Waters
Single Title Romantic Suspense
House of Lies
No Second Chance
Seeing Red
The Guardian of Earth series
G-1 (writing as Rigel Carson)
G-2 (writing as Rigel Carson)
G-3 (writing as Rigel Carson)
Short Stories
“High Noon at Dollar Central”
Cookbook
KP Authors Cook Their Books
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
About the Author
More books by Maggie Toussaint
Dead Men Tell No Tales Page 8
