Ladies' Circle of Murder (A Lacy Steele Mystery Book 8)

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  Table of Contents

  · 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

  Copyright © 2015 Vanessa Gray Bartal

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Lacy Steele was not hungry. She did not need to eat. But the scent drifting through her office was enough to send her olfactory nerves into paroxysms of desire.

  Recently the ice cream shop downstairs had started making waffle cones. All day the smell of fresh cookies wafted through the Stakely building. It was more than Lacy could handle. Ice cream was one thing; she could refuse it on most days. But a fresh-baked waffle cone was another. She could refuse it by sight. But that smell…

  No. She had set herself a strict limit of one a day and she had already met it. A rough day was not justification to up her quota. People would talk if they saw her make another trip downstairs. On the other hand, Michael was the most likely culprit to tease her, and he was still in Ireland. But, no. She was strong. It was only a waffle cone. Just a simple combination of flour and eggs that, when baked, smelled like heaven in a cylinder.

  Stop thinking about waffle cones, she commanded herself as she faced forward and sat up straight. She had work to do and no time to waste thinking about delicious, delicious waffle cones.

  Her fingers drummed on the desktop. She was not hungry. Or was she? Maybe she was. In fact, now that she thought about it, she was famished. Her blood sugar level was sinking. That meant she needed a snack, right? But not a waffle cone, something healthy. Kale, maybe. It was all the rage these days. She hadn’t run this morning or many mornings lately. She needed all the help she could get in her diet, especially because her pants were feeling uncomfortably tight lately.

  She opened her drawer and stared at the contents. No kale. But there was a pre-packaged brownie, and it had some green candy on top. That was sort of the same thing, she thought as she reached for it and headed to her closet to unwrap it.

  She was finishing the last bite when someone entered her office.

  “Lacy?”

  It was Jason. Lacy froze. If she answered, she would have to tell him what she was doing. If she didn’t answer, he would ask later where she had been and she would have to confess to hiding in the closet and not answering when he called. Better to fess up now.

  “Hi,” she said.

  His footsteps neared until she saw his brown leather oxfords peeping under the door. “Why are you in the closet?” He asked with the tone of someone who wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.

  “I was eating a brownie.”

  “That doesn’t answer the question of why,” he said.

  “If I don’t see it, then the calories don’t count,” she explained.

  He paused. “Are you okay?”

  “My mother’s still here,” she answered. Her mother had arrived two weeks ago for the birth of Riley’s baby. But Riley’s baby, being as capricious as its mother, had decided not to show. After three trips to the hospital with false labor, all contractions had stopped. And for the last fourteen days, Lacy’s stress level had been off the charts; her self-esteem had taken a nosedive. Was it any wonder she had turned to her old friend, food, for comfort?

  “I know,” Jason said, and his words were weighted. Jason had been on the receiving end of Frannie Steele’s velvet-covered venom, too. She was the master at wrapping an insult in a compliment, leaving the object of her disdain no way to defend himself. Oh, Jason, isn’t it wonderful that you made detective? And with so little college education, too. How lucky that you decided to settle in a small town where your accomplishments could mean so much. He was being patient. He was a saint. He opened the door. Lacy swiped at her lips, making sure there was no chocolate fudge. Or maybe she was smearing it worse. Jason smiled at her, and a little of her tension melted away.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” she replied.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, and her tension returned.

  “What?” she asked warily.

  “Don’t say no,” he said, and she glanced longingly at the brownie drawer. He took her hand and led her out of the closet, seating her in a chair while he perched on the edge of her desk.

  “Why would I say no?” she asked.

  “Hear me out,” he said.

  “You’re scaring me.”

  “I’m not trying to. I simply want you to keep an open mind,” he said.

  “My mind is like an all night truck stop.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s open. Proceed.”

  “You know how you’re always saying that we need to do things together as a couple,” he said.

  “Yes,” she prompted.

  “And you said we should find things that appeal to both of us, so we’re not always doing what you want to do or what I want to do,” he said.

  “Okay,” she said.

  “I found something I want to do. Together.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Remember that you promised not to say no without thinking it through,” he said.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Dodgeball.”

  He was trying to kill her. He wanted her dead. What other explanation could there be? She blinked at him, taking it in, trying to maintain her vow not to say no without thinking it through. “That’s an interesting suggestion,” she said.

  “I know you’ve had some bad luck with dodgeball in the past,” he said.

  “A concussion is a little more than bad luck. I couldn’t say the letter N for six hours,” Lacy said.

  “My point is that now you have me and, not to brag, but I’ve never lost at dodgeball. Ever. We’ll be a team. I’ll show you that it can be fun. I won’t let you get skunked, I promise,” he said.

  Can you stop the earth from spinning? How else did he propose to stop the inevitable? Round objects found her head. It was a fact of life she had come to accept after a volleyball broke her glasses and dislocated her nose. And she hadn’t even been in the gym at the time. She had simply been walking from science class to the bathroom when a ball flew out of the gym and nailed her in the face, knocking her to the ground. Her eighth grade P.E. teacher, Mrs. Clutter, said she had never seen a ball go around a corner like that before. Like it had a will of its own, like it had a mission, had been her exact words, and Lacy had never forgotten.

  “This is not going to end well for me,” Lacy said.

  “Trust me,” Jason said.

  He shifted and his shirt gaped, revealing a flash of his well-muscled stomach. Lacy wondered if she could get away with putting her eye to the gap and using it like a peephole. She never got tired of seeing his abs. They were a miracle of nature.

  “I lost you,” he said.

  “I was thinking about miracles,” Lacy said.

  “That’s deep,” Jason said.

  “I’m an ab. Byss. An Abyss.” Now she was blushing. Jason gave her the look, the one that seemed to say that she wasn�
�t quite right, but she was his and he loved her anyway. He pulled her up to stand in front of him.

  “If you play dodgeball with me, I’ll make it worth your while,” he said.

  She would do it because he asked her to, but it would be interesting to hear what he proposed to sweeten the deal. “What did you have in mind?”

  “Michael’s motorcycle is in my garage, and I have the keys. On my next day off, we’ll take a ride. Wherever you want to go,” he said.

  It was a generous officer. Lacy loved motorcycles. As a man, Jason had no problem with them. As a police officer, he had seen tragic outcomes too many times. A bug to a windshield is like a motorcyclist to pavement, he had said on more than one occasion.

  “All right,” Lacy agreed. “Let’s dodgeball. But if I lose the ability to say the letter N on a permanent basis, it’s on your head.”

  “It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” he said.

  “You might not be if you have to hear me call you Jaso for all eternity,” she said.

  “As long as you’re calling me something for all eternity, I don’t care what it is,” he said and kissed her.

  He was always saying sweet, romantic things and then kissing her before she could reply, which was good because she wasn’t as skilled at saying sweet things as he was. The last time she tried, it devolved into saying something about his well-manicured cuticles.

  His head moved slightly south and Lacy went to that place she went whenever his lips touched her neck. She wasn’t sure what happened, but a tidal wave could overtake the building and, as long as he was kissing her, she would stand there stupidly and let it carry her away.

  “I should go,” he said eventually, and Lacy came back to attention. Maybe he was a hypnotist. How else to explain her over-the-top reaction to him and his lips? He walked toward the door, but at the last minute stuck his head back inside. “By the way, it starts tonight.”

  Lacy stood up so quickly again she bashed her knees and shins on her desk. “What?” It was too late, though. He was already gone.

  She had just sat down again when her phone rang. It was her sister. “Meet me downstairs,” Riley said.

  “Is something wrong?” Lacy asked.

  “Yes, I’m twelve months pregnant. Get down here.” She hung up.

  So much for the softening effects of pregnancy, Lacy thought. First the morning sickness had made her miserable. Then she gained an alarming amount of weight. Now their mother was in town. Lacy felt sorry for her, but her patience was also worn thin. At least the pregnancy meant her mother was staying with Riley and Tosh instead of her and her grandmother.

  She went downstairs and saw Riley leaning in the entryway, panting.

  “Are you in labor?” Lacy asked.

  “No. This is how I breathe now. It’s like there’s a medicine ball on my lungs at all times. And don’t get me started on my bladder.”

  “I won’t,” Lacy assured her.

  “Let’s sit down,” Riley said as she headed toward the ice cream shop. They sat at one of the cute little tables with heart-shaped metal chairs. The chairs looked delicate. Lacy worried for their safety under her sister’s girth, but she wisely kept that thought to herself.

  “What can I get you ladies?” Steve, the shop’s owner, asked from behind the counter.

  “I’ll have a scoop of everything in a trough with a bucket of hot fudge,” Riley said.

  Lacy envied her the ability to get away with eating whatever she wanted. No one who wasn’t pregnant could do that and still be considered normal.

  “The same for you?” Steve asked Lacy.

  “No.” The smell of fresh waffle cones hit her anew and she started to salivate. “I’m not having anything. Thanks.” She cast a longing eye toward the waffle cones encased in their clear plastic container. There were five of them. One was a little darker than the others. How would that affect the taste?

  “I sent Tosh away,” Riley said, pulling Lacy’s attention away from the cones.

  “Why?”

  “Because he and Mom are driving me nuts. They hover and give warring advice. One says to sit down and put my feet up while the other says to walk it off. There’s too much tension. Mom won’t go, so Tosh had to.”

  “What did you do with him?” Lacy asked.

  “I sent him to his sister’s.”

  “Aren’t you afraid he’s going to miss the birth?”

  “What birth? This baby is never coming out. It’s going to go to college in there,” Riley said. “Besides, that’s why God made private jets. As soon as I go into labor, if such a thing ever happens, I’ll call him and he’ll hop on the plane.”

  “Were his feelings hurt?” Lacy asked.

  “Are you kidding me? He gets to get away from mom and me. He practically left the house without his suitcase.”

  “So you’re not fighting,” Lacy said.

  “No. We’ve been getting along surprisingly well, considering how much I want to stab everything and everyone,” Riley said. Her ice cream arrived and she paused to taste.

  “Do you want some?” Riley asked. “I’m starving, but then I eat a few bites and feel full because the baby has pushed my stomach up to my throat.”

  “No, I’m good,” Lacy said. Ice cream was tempting, but on a good day she could bypass it.

  Steve returned and pulled a waffle cone from behind his back. He presented it to Lacy with a flourish, like a magician revealing a bouquet of silk flowers from his wand. “On the house,” he said.

  “Thank you,” Lacy said. She took the cone and stared at it. She couldn’t be rude and not eat it. She would take it home for later. But first she would take one bite, to show Steve how much she appreciated it.

  “A waffle cone with no ice cream? Gross,” Riley said.

  “Says the woman who just mixed mint chocolate chip with banana,” Lacy said. “Did Grandma tell you that Grandpa went out of town?”

  “Did I scare him away, too?” Riley asked.

  “No, his cousin is having bypass surgery in a few days and he wanted to be there,” Lacy said. “Any word from Dad?”

  “He calls every few days,” Riley said.

  “Does he call you or does he call Mom?”

  “Me,” Riley said, frowning. “I never thought of it before, but I don’t think he and Mom have talked since he went back to Florida.”

  “Something’s not right there,” Lacy said.

  “I can’t think about it now,” Riley said.

  Lacy let it go for the moment. But soon something was going to have to be done about the enmity between her parents.

  “Speaking of Mom, her car is acting funny. You need to take her to get it fixed. I would do it, but I can’t fit behind the wheel anymore,” Riley said.

  “Okay, but before tonight. Jason and I are doing dodgeball.”

  Riley snorted and choked on a spoonful of ice cream. “Hiring a hit man would be easier and less painful for the rest of us to watch.”

  “He promised that his athletic prowess will outweigh my ineptitude,” Lacy said.

  “Are you sure he understands the level of your ineptitude? Did you tell him about the time you fell down the stairs in the middle of doing timed basketball speed drills? I still can’t figure that one out,” Riley said.

  “He knows about that one. We were in the same class that year.”

  “Maybe instead of balls they should throw waffle cones. You could probably eat those in the air as they fly toward your face,” Riley said.

  Lacy looked down. Somehow while she talked, she had eaten the entire waffle cone. “How did that happen? I didn’t even get to savor it.”

  “This is probably a good time to tell you that Mom is going to be here any minute,” Riley said.

  “Why?” Lacy asked, something akin to panic flaring in her chest. She had an anxietal response to her mother, something that had been conditioned from earliest childhood. When her mother was around, criticism was sure to follow.

  “She droppe
d me here on the way to her beauty appointment.”

  Lacy stood. “I have to go.”

  “You can’t. You’re taking her to the car repair place, remember? I know you drove Grandma’s car today. There’s no getting out of it.”

  Riley was right. Slowly, she sank back into the chair, just as her mother walked in the door and waved.

  “Yoo-hoo, girls,” she called as she approached. She pulled up a chair from a neighboring table and glanced disparagingly at the melting muddle of ice cream Riley had left.

  “Really, Lacy, that doesn’t even look appetizing.”

  “It’s Riley’s,” Lacy said.

  “Why did you let Riley eat that? She’s going to get heartburn.”

  “You’re right,” Riley said. “I just did.” She pressed a hand to her chest and stood. “I have to go, Mom.”

  “Where are you going? I thought you were going to the car repair place with us,” Frannie said.

  “I can’t. I have to, uh, go to the…” she scanned the interior of the restaurant, looking for a reprieve. Lacy took pity on her. Physically, she was miserable. No reason to add psychological torture to that.

  “You were going to see Kimber, right?” Lacy suggested.

  Riley seized on it like a squirrel on autumn’s last acorn. “Yes, Kimber.”

  “What do you have to see Kimber for? Can’t it wait?” Frannie asked.

  Riley looked blank. Pregnancy must be messing with her mind. She was usually a master of deception. It was Lacy who usually couldn’t lie to save her life. To save someone else, however, she turned into the Mata Hari. “To do the belly plaster,” she supplied. “Kimber is going to make a sculpture of Riley’s belly.”

  Frannie wrinkled her nose. “A belly sculpture? Really, Riley, that’s so tacky.”