by Norah Wilson
“That’s all?” The furrow in Ruth-Ann’s brow deepened into an expression of bewilderment. “That’s all that led you to me?”
“Not quite all,” Dylan said. “There was something else. Something that I really didn’t pick up on until later. When our Mabel misheard Dix, and said, Of course he’s been hugging us, you retorted not with, She said, he’s been drugging us, but with, He’s been drugging us. You already knew about the pheromones. And you knew that they couldn’t induce a heart attack. When Gaetan had his panic attack, you weren’t the first to rush to his side.”
“But wait,” Starla said. “Ruth-Ann performed CPR on Albert! If she wanted to kill him, why would she try to revive him?”
“Why not?” Dickhead said. “She knew it was likely going to be a lost cause. Or maybe she figured if she did it poorly, it would prevent someone else from moving in and doing it more effectively.”
Oh yeah, the guy was getting the picture. He gave an almost indiscernible nod to Pivans, and the young constable moved closer to Ruth-Ann.
“And don’t forget access to Albert,” I said. “You and Starla were passing out the smoothies on the night that Albert died. You slipped the Deleonex into his drink. And I’m guessing on the night Telly died, you were on smoothie duty then too.”
Ruth-Ann closed her eyes. “Yes. I never meant to kill Telly. But somehow... the drinks got mixed up.” She sighed and opened her eyes. “That was very unfortunate. I... I feel badly about that.”
If she was looking for a there-there, she wasn’t getting it from this crowd.
Constable Pivens removed her handcuffs and stepped up to Ruth-Ann. “Hands behind your back please, ma’am.”
Ruth-Ann complied with Constable Pivans’s direction.
Detective Head stepped in. “Ruth-Ann Dale, I’m placing you under arrest for the murders of Albert Valentine and Telly Smith.” As the constable secured the bracelets on Ruth-Ann and Detective Head recited her rights, Ruth-Ann finally looked shaken.
“Why?” Eva said, her voice quiet. “Why did you do it? I mean... you’re an ethicist!”
Ruth-Ann offered a shaky smile. “He... he wasn’t a nice man. I saw the way he looked at you girls. And I saw... more.”
No more needed to be said.
Chapter 25
AS EVA HAD pointed out, Ruth-Ann Dale was a really bad ethicist. I’m sure somewhere deep down inside her cool, logical brain, she felt completely justified in her actions. She’d rationalized what she’d done, viewed it as perfectly acceptable. Right. Just. Ethical. But really, to cuddle with strangers? That was just wrong, wrong, wrong!
Oh, and that whole murder/vengeance thing wasn’t very ethical either.
We’d all been asked to go to the station. Although Ruth-Ann had essentially confessed in front of multiple witnesses, the authorities still wanted statements from all the cuddle club members. For me and Dylan, they were agreeable to our submitting our written reports within the next twenty-four hours. We could have left the station at that point, but we chose to hang around as the crowd slowly dissipated after each took his or her turn with a detective. Most everyone stopped to say something to us as they left, a few with tears in their eyes. Many with a grateful handshake. And Elizabeth Bee with a whispered message to me. (“Dix, I need to talk to you. I’ll be in touch.”) What was that all about?
Gaetan was cursing the day he ever set foot in Marport City, and yeah, I was betting the closed sign on the Gaetan Land door was a permanent thing. And I’m also betting that the cut-the-crap attitude Babe laid on Gaetan when he started in with her, was going to stick. She was already speaking about plans of her own.
Brandy surprised me with a hug on her way out the door. “Thanks so much, Dix.”
Her father, Dr. Crotty, was in a corner of the room, talking to Eva. Even from the distance I could tell it was a good conversation. Eva was even smiling as her father figure dished out what had to be fatherly-advice.
When it was obvious that Brandy had something more to say, and that it was of the my-ears-only variety, Dylan excused himself. “I think Mabel needs a little help with her coat,” he said. She didn’t need it, but she’d revel in the gentlemanly assistance. This older woman was sweet on him too.
Brandy hesitated, chewed her bottom lip a moment, and then said. “Sorry I was such a bitch to you. I mean about your boyfriend and all...”
There it was on the table. Yes, she let that sentence hang to see if I’d correct her. If I’d deny the relationship with a we-were-just-under-cover explanation.
“Apology accepted,” I said. Then I nodded toward Eva. “You have a wonderful friend there, and you’ve been an amazing friend to her. Take care of each other.”
“Thanks, Dix. We will.”
While Dylan chatted away with Mabel and helped her into her coat; Lincoln Crotty, Eva, and Zoey said their farewells to me too as they left the station.
“Don’t forget to turn up for that cardiac ultrasound,” Dr. Crotty said. “Tell your doc to send you my way if there are any issues.”
Oh, and then there was Detective Richard Head. I turned around, and there he was.
“Well, I guess we’re just about ready to head out,” I said to Head. “I’ll be in touch about the bi—”
“You’re welcome, Dix Dodd.” Dickhead’s words cut across mine before I could get the word ‘bill’ out there. “Glad the Marport PD could help you out with the case. Good call, calling me.”
I did a double take, then saw that Constable Pivans was standing in Dickhead’s wake. Again.
“Yes, it was a very good thing you called the detective in on this,” Pivans said. The glance she sent Dickhead was clearly an admiring one. (Gag! I would have given the woman more credit. Of course, she didn’t know the man quite like I did, so I cut her some slack.) “He tells me that you often ask for his expertise—his advice.”
“Did he now?” I wanted to blast him for that, but we had a deal. I wouldn’t blow his cover. Wouldn’t give it away that he was the one who called me in, the one who’d been cuddling long before I darkened the doors of Gaetan Land. “Well, it’s certainly true I’ve learned a lot from watching Detective Head.”
Dickhead had the grace to blush at my veiled reference to busting him as a cheating spouse.
Yeah, we had a deal. But no one said I had to like it. And no one said I had to be nice about it either...
I smiled at Dickhead.
Dickhead smiled (a little sickly) at me.
I turned to Leola Pivans. “I cannot tell you how professional Richard’s been through all this. And I must say, he blended in extremely well undercover. In fact, he was so concerned about maintaining that cover, he even agreed to take a turn on bringing in the treats!”
“Treats?” Pivans said. She was practically glowing with admiration for her senior officer now.
“Um, treats?” Dickhead’s brown creased. “I don’t—”
“I know—you left them at Gaetan Land. But I noticed them on the table and brought them along with me.” I glanced at Constable Pivans again. “Can you believe it? I mean, with everything going on, I knew they wouldn’t be serving the smoothies, but still our Richard thought to bring the snacks.”
Dickhead cut in, “That’s—”
“Right! I know.” I retrieved the box from where I’d left it on the chair with my jacket and handed it to Dickhead. “So did you make cookies, like you said? You know, all frosted, with sprinkles? Oh, yum!”
His smile slowly returned. Yeah, the guy really thought I had brought him cookies. He winked, oh so subtly.
I gave him an equally subtle wink back. “They’re homemade, aren’t they?”
“Yeah, they are. My mother’s special recipe.” He started to open the box. And I put my hand on his to still that motion. “Why don’t you take them to the staff room. Enjoy them with your coworkers.” I left my hand right there on his until he chuckled, and agreed.
“The guys will love them, Detective,” Pivans said.
&nbs
p; Oh, I was guessing they would.
“Okay, I’ve gotta find Dylan and get out of here. Reports to write, you know.”
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”
Leola Pivans turned to walk away. Before Dickhead could walk away too, I did that pinkie/thumb phone thing and mouthed, “Call me.”
He nodded.
Oh, I just bet he’d be calling... about ten seconds after his fellow officers poured their coffees and opened the package of penis-shaped cookies.
Epilogue
IT WAS MIDNIGHT by the time Dylan and I got back to the office. Yes, we could have gone to his place or mine or both (you know—him to his place, me to mine). Decisions, decisions. There were going to be awkward times ahead. Strange times. But, I wasn’t running away from any of it.
And, hopefully, I was moving toward something else. That depended on Dylan. I was about to put forth what could very well be the best idea I’d ever had. Or the worst.
Time would definitely tell.
When I opened the office door, the red light was flashing on the phone. Without turning on the lights, I checked quickly, six messages—all from Dickhead. And I was betting each one was more creative and colorful than the last.
“What’s that smile about?” Dylan closed the office door. There was just enough light from the hallway coming through the beveled glass window in the door for him to see my expression.
My smile faded. “Dylan, we need to talk. About us.”
“Sure.” He spoke without hesitation, but I could tell from his body language that he thought I meant our personal relationship, and that I was backing away from it.
Dylan tossed Blow-Up Betty behind the sofa and sat down beside me. “What’s on your mind, Dix?”
“I... I’m your boss, Dylan. And well, this relationship we’re having... this relationship we’ve started... There are all kinds of complications in this scenario. In this relationship. Well, the dynamics are... you know... wrong.”
“Because you’re the boss?”
“Exactly!”
“So you want to us to stop seeing each other, romantically. Even before we’ve really begun.” He didn’t raise his voice, but neither did he try to hide the frustration.
I didn’t try to hide my grin. “Dylan, I want to propose—”
“Whoa, Dix! Isn’t that a little extreme?”
I swatted him. “Let me finish. I want to propose that you stop working for me... and start working with me. It would mean you’d effectively have to take a cut in pay. The hours... man, they suck. Benefits? Well... besides working with me, they’re pretty much non-existent.”
“So, what are you saying, Dix? My apprenticeship is complete?”
I nodded. “Yes. And I want you to be my partner.”
Silence.
And the seconds ticked on.
Damn. He was going to say no. Going to say he had something else already lined up. Going to walk out that door.
“There’s just one thing before I can accept,” Dylan said.
Oh, thank God! He was going to accept. I released the pent up breath I hadn’t even known I’d been holding. “What’s your condition?”
“We have to be on a level field here if we’re going to make this work. And I don’t just mean the job, I mean the relationship.”
He turned toward me on the couch, slid his hand into my hair until he was cupping my nape.
I shivered. My nipples hardened. “Of course.”
His long, oh-so-talented fingers guided my head closer until the next words he spoke were almost against my lips. “We have to be equals in every way.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I breathed.
He kissed me, long and dizzying.
“And we can have no debts between us,” he said when he released me. The husky sound of his voice raised goose bumps on my skin. “Nothing... owing.”
Yeah, that wasn’t just my intuition throbbing now as he urged me down on the couch. I knew what Dylan, my partner, my (oh boy!) boyfriend was referring to. Oh man, I knew what he was going to do.
“And right now, I owe you... big time,” he said.
“Can’t have that,” I said weakly, as his fingers undid my belt and worked the buttons and zipper on my pants.
Oh boy!
~~~*~~~
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About the Authors
NORAH WILSON is a USA Today bestselling author of romantic suspense and paranormal romance. She lives in Fredericton, New Brunswick with her husband, two adult children, two dogs (Ruby and Neva) and two cats (Ruckus and Milo). Norah has had three of her romantic suspense stories final in the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious Golden Heart® contest. In 2003, she won Dorchester Publishing’s New Voice in Romance.
HEATHER DOHERTY fell completely in love with writing while taking creative writing courses with Athabasca University. Motivated by her university success, and a life-long dream of becoming a novelist, she later enrolled in the Humber School for Writers. Her first literary novel was published in 2006. While still writing dark literary (as well as not-so-dark children’s lit), she is beyond thrilled to be writing the Dix Dodd cozy mysteries and paranormal/horror with Norah. Heather lives in Fredericton, New Brunswick with her family.
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Excerpt from Covering Her Assets
Copyright © 2011 N.L. Wilson (Norah Wilson and Heather Doherty)
Description
Dix Dodd is going undercover again, this time at the behest of Elizabeth Bee. No, make that Mrs. Hugh Drammen. Our favorite, ever-enterprising spa worker has snagged herself a wealthy octogenarian husband. But she believes someone is out to kill her darling “Hugh-Bear”. She’s not about to let that happen, at least not before their first anniversary when her inheritance entitlement kicks in. According to that pesky pre-nup, if Hugh should die before that critical anniversary, she gets nothing. Unfortunately, Hugh Drammen refuses to believe he’s in any danger and won’t condone an investigation, so Elizabeth has to act surreptitiously.
Enter Dix, posing as Dee Bee, Elizabeth’s cougar mother, Dylan, posing as Dee’s newest gigolo/boy-toy, Magnus, and Mrs. Presley in the role of Elizabeth’s Nanny Jane. Throw in a patriarch with OCD, a daughter and son-in-law with obvious marital problems, their recalcitrant daughter, an odd, anti-social nephew visiting from Alaska, a housekeeper with a bad back that prevents her from housekeeping, a bevy of servants, and a beer-drinking rescue dog, and you have the Drammen household.
It’s a bizarre situation, but for a fat fee from Elizabeth, Dix is more than happy to take on the job of Covering Her Assets.
LIFE’S
FUNNY.
Okay, not always in that ha ha, the-dirtbag-ex-boyfriend-fell-down-a-well funny. Yet while I’m thinking of it, ha ha, my dirtbag ex-boyfriend fell down a well. But that’s neither here nor there. What I’m saying is that life can be ... weird funny.
Yeah, weird funny. Let’s go with that. And why not? That about sums up the last few months of my life.
Business has been great. No complaints there. Lots of down-and-dirty in Marport City to keep this private detective very happy. And yeah, a big chunk of my business is still who’s cheating on whom. Not to mention with whom. Also, where, when, how, and even for how long. And some of them were pretty long, in my learned experience … and I do research.
Oh, the snapshots I was getting these days of sneaking-around spouses. Some of them were downright giggle-worthy.
It wasn’t just cheating spouses that kept my camera clicking. Increasingly, other business was coming our way. Well, trickling in.
Yes siree, the Dodd-Foreman partnership was working out nicely. That’s right—no more apprentice work for Dylan. We were business equals on paper and in every other way. Though, I sometimes had a hard time wrapping my head around it. Admittedly, I do have a wee bit of trouble “letting go” to Dylan. But I was trying.
Since that crazy case of Death by Cuddle Club, we’d even picked up a couple of stalk-the-stalker cases. Gotta love referrals. Stalker cases are similar to pin the tail on the donkey, except I pin the incriminating pics on the asses who were supposed to be staying well away from their former lady loves. (Hello, peace bond, anyone?) Intense cases, those ones.
We had a couple of nice missing person cases too. Nice because we found the missing persons—easily solved by yours truly. Fortunately, they were all thrilled to have been looked for, let alone found.
