Boiling Over

by Thea McAlistair

  It took all my willpower to shove the notebook back into his hands. “I don’t want it. I don’t even want to be tempted by it.” After all the terrible things I’d done in the last week, I wasn’t going to make anyone else suffer for my benefit. “Donnie taught me to be better.”

  Sev looked at the notebook before tucking it behind the lamp. “All right, I’ll destroy it tomorrow.” He gave a half-hearted laugh. “You are a better man than me, mi amore.”

  Ha, better? “No, no, no, don’t say that.” I reached for his hand and kissed his knuckles. “I was awful this week. Picking fights and ignoring you and not thinking about how you were dealing with everything. Do whatever you need to do to feel okay, okay? Go to church, talk to a priest, see—”

  “I was going to do it with or without your permission,” he said, almost sharply. “You think I do not know how to hold my ground against people I love, but I do.”

  I blushed. Of course, dumb, self-centered me would give him a lecture only for him to spit it right back in my face. “You’re right,” I said. “I was an ass. I am an ass. And I’m really, really sorry. I don’t want to make excuses, but I’m new at this whole in love thing, and I’m so scared I’m going to lose you and Pearl like I lost Martin and Donnie. Only it’ll be worse because I’ll know I ran you off.”

  His expression softened. “Oh, Alex.” Very gently, he ran his fingers along the side of my face. “If you are so new, then I will have to tell you: loving is not perfect. It can feel like it when things are good, but nothing ever is. You must work and learn and fix. Apologize. Maybe change, hopefully for the better.” He smiled, and the crow’s feet appeared. “I think you are doing all right in such a small amount of time.” He patted my hand. “So now that I have reassured you, back to sleep, caro. Before you get too worked up.”

  I was already worked up, but I’d never be able to top that speech. “Can you stay here? Please?”

  “Of course, caro.” He slid next to me on the bed, clothes and all. I curled against him, and I felt relaxed, sure in his embrace.

  “And can you do me one more favor?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Please never try to cook by yourself again.”

  He chuckled and pulled me closer, rubbing his hand along my arm. Something thumped onto the mattress and nearly gave me a heart attack. Daisy.

  “I think this cat wants to kill me,” I mumbled as she paced her way into the narrow space between us and onto his legs.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think she’s sweet,” said Sev as he scratched her ear.

  She leaned into his hand and purred. I expected him to start singing at her again, but instead, he hummed a song I’d never heard before, quite possibly because he got the notes wrong. But it was soft and light and very sweet, and for a whole five minutes, I found something that might have been peace.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  In the morning, I stumbled out of the bedroom to find a small crowd in the parlor. Not only Sev and Pearl, but Crista and Judith as well. The adults were speaking in quiet tones while Pearl listlessly placed pieces into her puzzle.

  She looked up. “Alex!” She jumped up and ran to hug me around the middle. “I was scared you weren’t going to wake up.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” I said, stroking her hair. “How you doing, kiddo?”

  “I’m good. I was scared when Mr. Parrish grabbed me, but it’s okay because he’s in jail now. Are you all right?”

  I took a moment to assess whether I really was. My head hurt, and I was groggy and kind of weak, but overall—especially considering the circumstances—I was feeling decent. Finally. “A little tired.”

  “There you are, see,” said Crista. “Didn’t we say all would be well? Now will you eat your breakfast, gattina?”

  “I hate oatmeal!”

  “Will you try again for me?” I said.

  She stared up at me with her enormous eyes. “Fine.” She released me and let Crista lead her into the kitchen.

  Once they were gone, Judith came up to me. She looked like I had expected her to look when Walter Trask had died—red-eyed and vacant. More proof she hadn’t cared for him at all. Still, she held herself with grace and smiled politely at me.

  Sev caught my eye and cleared his throat. “Please excuse me, I believe I have got the coffeepot to work again.”

  He edged past me on his way to the kitchen, letting his hand brush against my arm. It was just me and Judith now.

  “Shouldn’t you be at home?” I asked.

  “Why should I? There’s no one there.” She tried to smile, but it faded before it got very far. “I wanted to thank you for everything. If you hadn’t come when you did…”

  “Well, you’re welcome, of course, but you’ll need to thank Fran for timing herself right. I wouldn’t have figured it out if she hadn’t mentioned Arthur had lied.”

  “I already saw her.” The smile spread. “She’s quite proud now. Saying how she wants to race bikes when she grows up. Even so, you were the only one who looked into Walter’s death.” She shook her head. “I heard Bobby and Mr. Wallace got called in by their supervisors. I don’t think it’s going to end well for them.”

  I managed to keep my smug glee internal. “Maybe it’s for the best.”

  “Maybe.” Judith looked away. “I don’t want to think this was all my fault, but—”

  “It’s not your fault,” I said. “You’re not obligated to be anyone’s plaything. And you’re not responsible for other people’s actions.”

  “No, I suppose I’m not. Still, I wish it ended better.”

  “It can always be better. It can always be worse too.”

  “Also true.”

  An awkward silence sprung up. There was no clean way to do this, so I jumped right in.

  “I’m, um, sorry I wasn’t fast enough to save your father,” I mumbled.

  Judith looked up. “He was in a lot of pain, and I know he was worried about being a burden to me.” She sighed. “He always protected me.”

  I nodded. “It was pretty clear he loved you a lot. And I don’t think he would have cared about Maude.”

  “You know, I don’t think he would have either.”

  More silence, but it wasn’t as severe this time. Amazing the things honesty could do.

  “So, what are you thinking of doing now?” I asked.

  “Well, once everything is settled with the funeral, perhaps I will go back to school. It’s been a few years, but maybe they will remember me. And I think there might be enough saved now that Maude can come with me. There are many students living together. I don’t think anyone will notice.”

  “Sounds like a great idea. What were you studying?”

  “Literature.”

  “Ah. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be sorry.” She looked away for a moment. “If I let Mr. Parrish ruin another thing I love, it’s almost like letting him get his way, isn’t it?” She raised her head again. “Unless you’re apologizing for your writing for the pulps, in which case, I forgive you. Reading should be enjoyable for everyone.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  She stood on her toes and kissed my cheek. “Thank you again for everything. I wish you and Mr. Arrighi all the luck in the world.”

  She stepped toward the door, and I let her out. I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel. Yeah, I’d found the killer and gotten Bella out of jail, but it’d practically been an accident. Richard, Ed, and Mr. Howe might have not been murdered if I hadn’t shown up, but Judith might not have been lucky enough to get away. But like I’d said, I couldn’t be responsible for the actions of someone else.

  I heard Sev’s footsteps behind me in the hall, so I turned.

  He caught me around the waist and pulled me close to him. “Is everything all right?” he asked as he moved a strand of my hair sticking up among the bandages. “You are making faces.”

  Time for more honesty. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to save more people.” Christ, this was hard. “
Maybe we can talk about it later? When Crista’s gone and it’s calmer.”

  “I will hold you to it, caro; don’t think I won’t. But right now,” he said, “tell me what’s this between you and Miss Howe?”

  “Seriously?”

  He smirked and let me go. “Just checking. Come, I have made coffee and you must try it.”

  “Why me?”

  “Because if you accidentally get poisoned because of my incompetence, I can blame Mr. Parrish.”

  I snorted. “You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

  He shrugged, still with his wicked little smile. “Only if you say so.”

  He herded me into the kitchen, where Crista was cajoling Pearl into eating a bowl of oatmeal with the consistency of cement. It slopped off the spoon when Pearl tipped it instead of putting it in her mouth. Crista sighed in exasperation. Ha, so parenting can be hard for you too.

  “I thought you were going to eat?” I said as Sev handed me a cup. At least the contents smelled like coffee.

  “You wanted me to try it,” Pearl answered, “and I did, and it’s still yucky.”

  I rolled my eyes but decided it wasn’t worth the fight. Not when I was barely on my feet. “Fine, we’ll make you some eggs. We’ll call you when they’re ready.”

  Pearl sniffed and pushed the bowl away before scampering back toward the parlor. Sev sighed and reached for a pot to boil water. I knew it was spoiling her to let her get her way all the time, but she had recently been taken hostage by a homicidal madman. And oatmeal was pretty disgusting now that I was thinking about it.

  “So,” said Crista as she moved the bowl from the table to the sink, “have you two finished your lover’s spat?”

  I nearly dropped my coffee. “What?”

  “That is the right phrase, yes?”

  “Did Fran tell you?”

  “No, but if Fran knows, I think it will be through the town by the end of the week.” Crista looked at Sev and then back at me. “I am not stupid. Sometimes people think I am because my English isn’t always good, but I can see. You turn so red when I talk to him. Like you are jealous.” She nodded at Sev. “And you look at Mr. Carrow like he is made of gold.” Sev flushed, and Crista turned back to me. “And if I did not know, Bella stopped by and told me last night.”

  I groaned.

  Crista ignored me and pulled something out of her pocket. Slips of paper? No, train tickets. Three of them. She handed them to Sev. He squinted at them.

  “Boston?” he said.

  She nodded. “The day after tomorrow. She says she will regroup.”

  “Well, thanks. I guess,” I said. Why hadn’t Bella given them directly to us? Or told us last night when she popped around?

  “It is my pleasure.” Crista lowered her head and started moving toward the back door. “Have a safe trip, Mr. Dawson. Mr. Argenti.”

  I opened my mouth to say my goodbyes only to realize she’d said our real names. She saw my confusion and smiled. Then she walked out the back door, the picture of delicate elegance.

  Sev looked to me and shrugged. “I didn’t tell her,” he said. “Perhaps Pearl?”

  “Pearl doesn’t even know your real last name.”

  “It must have been Bella.”

  That didn’t make any sense. Bella didn’t tell anyone anything, even when it might be helpful. So, Crista had to have found out from someone else. Who then? Maybe Robert Kelly had told her when he had his Boston relatives sniff around our story. Except as far as I knew, he and Crista hadn’t been on speaking terms.

  Could it have been the same person who had set the Boston police on us in the first place? Had Crista known where we were, what we had done? She claimed she hadn’t known how her husband had died, but how could she not? She was the caretaker of this house, she had to know the hitman had been here. And if she knew he was here, then she could have easily put everything together. What better revenge than to bring down everything Bella cared about, me and Sev included?

  “Sev, can you do me a favor?” I asked. “Can you call Bella and tell her how grateful I am for those? I wanna see what she says.”

  His brow furrowed as he looked between the tickets and me. He could undoubtedly hear the suspicion in my voice. “What are you thinking?”

  “I think Crista didn’t tell us something. And I think we don’t want to go to Boston. Where are those tickets out of, by the way?” I asked.

  Sev glanced at them. “Montpelier.”

  “Long drive. We should start today. Spend the overnight somewhere else. Just in case.”

  He watched me, and I thought he might question what I’d said, but instead, he tucked the tickets into his pocket and went for the phone. I slipped into the living room. Pearl was there, finishing her puzzle. I scanned the room, searching for anything Crista might have left or taken. Nothing, or at least nothing obvious.

  I sighed and went for my typewriter. It was the biggest thing and by far the heaviest, and I probably wasn’t going to write anything new anytime soon. Might as well pack it away. As I went to pull the paper out of the rollers, I noticed someone had typed something on the sheet:

  Love makes you do crazy things.

  Acknowledgements

  This book would not have been possible without the tremendous support of:

  My parents, Eleanor and Bob, my uncle Louis, and my sister Diana, who have always been there for me, especially as I worked toward my publishing goals.

  My friends Andrea and Tiffany and the rest of my D&D team Mike, Lindsey, Sam, and Nicole, who have listened to me complain, brought me joy, and kept me sane.

  My writing partners Allie and Jonny, who have given me their time, energy, and suggestions to make this and all my books the best they can be.

  My coworkers, who have been nothing but supportive of these very nichy books.

  My partner Alex, who has boosted my confidence and has brought me brightness and peace.

  About the Author

  Thea McAlistair is the pseudonym of an otherwise terribly boring office worker from New Jersey. She studied archaeology, anthropology, history, architecture, and public policy, but none of those panned out, so she decided to go back to an early love—writing. She can often be found playing D&D, cross-stitching, cooking with her partner, or muttering to herself about her latest draft.

  Email: vsheridanwrites@gmail.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/vsheridanwrites

  Twitter: @vsheridanwrites

  Other books by this author

  No Good Men

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