Hit and Nun

by Dakota Cassidy

  I realize I can’t control my behavior when I’m possessed, but it can’t be a coincidence that I went for Suzanne’s jugular. Though, my demon wasn’t exactly selective about who it attacked. Maybe, if I became angry enough, it sensed that and went into fight mode?

  I couldn’t think about that right now. It was all too much, but sooner or later, I was going to have to literally face my demon.

  Sighing, I stroked Livingston’s back, finally ready to hear what he’d heard while spending the afternoon with Suzanne.

  “So tell me what your little nugget about Suzanne is, pal.”

  His round, glassy eyes closed and his spine rippled with pleasure. “First, are ya feeling better, lass? That ’twas quite the outburst. One of the louder, more violent ones I’ve seen, you know.”

  I looked down at my feet in guilt, fresh tears coming to my eyes. “I’m sorry you had to see that, Livingston.”

  Leaning forward, he rubbed his round head against my cheek and purred low in his throat. “Oh, lass, ya can’t help it. Don’t ya tink I know that? Coop knows it, too. You’re a good person, Trixie Lavender, ex-nun/tattoo-shop owner. Don’t you ever let anyone tell ya otherwise because they’ll have to deal wit me, ya hear that? I’ll pluck their brains out through their nostrils for speakin’ such.”

  On a sniffle, I chuckled, cupping his sweet face. For all his orneriness, he could be very sweet. “Thank you, Livingston. And yes, I feel better. I just hope Coop can handle Suzanne. Empathy isn’t exactly her strong suit, but Suzanne won’t be receptive to anything I have to say.”

  “Never you mind about how Coop handles that wretch. Coop knows what she’s doin’. Of that I’m sure.”

  Taking a deep breath, I smiled at him. “Okay. I’m ready to hear what you have to tell me. Should I gird my loins?”

  “I’ll let you be the judge. So whilst ya were off playing The Rockford Files, she was a busy little bee. Of course, ya already heard what she said to whoever that was on the phone a bit ago, but she’s supposed to meet someone at the corner of Wellingham and Burns tonight at nine p.m. to give them sometin’.”

  I craned my neck to look at him. “To give whom what?”

  Livingston shifted position on the arm of the couch, his feet gripping the material. “I don’t know, darlin’. She didn’t say who it ‘twas. She spoke in very short sentences, and I couldn’t hear the caller. She kept pacing in and out of the living room, back and forth, prancin’ about in that bikini of hers, but I can tell ya this. She was pretty friendly with whoever was on the other end o’ that call.”

  I frowned. “Really?”

  “Really. The entire conversation, her hands were flappin’ and her mouth was movin’. I didn’t hear all of it, but I heard enough to know the superstar was puttin’ on a show. You know the one. Where she smiles all coy-like and sticks her body parts out?”

  I knew the one. It was the one leaving Knuck mesmerized. As I typed the address Livingston had mentioned into Google maps on my phone, because I fully intended to find out what was there, I asked, “Did she say or do anything else?”

  “Hah!” Livingston barked. “She did a whole lot of breathy cooin’ like she does when she wants her way. Still couldn’t hear much of what she said, but she called the person on the other end o’ the line ‘daaarling.’ Ya know, in that long, drawn out movie star way?”

  “Do you remember what time that was?”

  “’Round about noon. She doesn’t rise much before then. If bein’ lazy keeps ya young, she’s immortal,” he groused.

  I smiled. I think it was safe to say we weren’t fans of Suzanne here at the Lavender/O’Shea/Livingston household. “And?”

  “And then the grievin’ widow spent the rest of the day loungin’ about as though she were the Queen of Sheba. Never once asked our man Knuckles if he needed anyting after spendin’ the entire bloody night with her in the clink. Hasn’t bothered to call her friends to see how they’re farin’ either.”

  Regret stung my gut like a sharp knife to my intestines. “I should have talked to her before I erupted, Livingston. I missed my chance to ask her why she allowed us to talk to her friends when they see her in such a poor light. I think any opportunity to have a conversation with her is long gone.”

  Livingston bobbed his head up and down. “After the words you used… Er, your demon used, I don’t tink she’ll be braidin’ your hair at the next sleepover anytime soon, lass. I think the best ting you can do is to leave it alone for now and focus on who offed Agnar, but I’ll keep listenin’ in if she keeps yappin’.”

  As I looked at the location Google maps showed me, I realized it was an abandoned building. “It’s an abandoned building…” I murmured, more to myself than for Livingston’s benefit.

  “What is, dumplin’?”

  “The address you gave me. So why is Suzanne going to an abandoned building? Meeting another lover, perhaps?”

  Livingston sniffed. “I wouldn’t put it past her to meet with the devil if he has enough money to bankroll her love of fancy dresses and shoes.”

  I fought a snort. “That’s a fair assessment.” Then I sighed from exhaustion. We’d only been looking into this for a couple of days, but it felt like a lifetime since I’d first tripped over poor Agnar. Add in my demonic outburst, and I felt depleted.

  “Tell me your troubles, lass.”

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Knuckles, that’s what my trouble was. “No trouble, friend,” I muttered.

  “I can see it all over your face, love. Talk to me.”

  With a sigh, I closed my eyes and swallowed. “Knuckles is very upset with me for not giving Suzanne enough of a chance at redemption. He seems to have forgotten what she did to him and he’s certainly willing to forget she’s been sleeping with a close friend of her husband.”

  Livingston clucked. “You know what that is, don’t ya, Trixie? The need to be needed. Knuckles is in a tough spot with missin’ his wife as of late. Suzanne needs him, no matter how phony it is. Knuckles needs to be needed. He needs a companion, lass, and he’s all mixed up inside over the needin’. You’ve seen it in his eyes when he thinks no one’s lookin’. You’ve seen how sad he is lately. No one can say what brings that on, I s’pose. It comes and goes, grief does. But that grief clouds your judgment. Makes ya act a fool. But I can promise ya, whatever he said to hurt your feelings, he didn’t mean a lick of it. He loves you girls, and Suzanne’s going to show her true colors soon enough, and then he’ll see. I promise.”

  I swallowed a fresh batch of tears, the lump in my throat a tight knot. Livingston had real insight, and it wasn’t anything I hadn’t already thought about, but hearing it out loud made all the difference—it left me feeling validated and a little less sad.

  I gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, buddy.”

  He rubbed his head against my cheek. “Now back to the business o’ getting’ rid of that tart. Have ya ruled that guttersnipe out as a suspect?”

  Had I? “Not entirely, I guess, but while I was showering, it briefly crossed my mind that Suzanne didn’t exactly have the opportunity to kill Agnar with a dart laced in this rare deadly toxin. She was riding her bike in the naked bike run. There are witnesses who gave statements backing that up. Not to mention, Agnar was ahead of everyone by about a mile. If she hit him with the dart before he got ahead of them, would it take that long for the toxin to work? I really need to find out what the toxin is. Either way, she might have motive, but I’m not so sure she had the means.”

  “And the car that hit him? What about that, lass?”

  Scratching my hair, I shook my head. “I don’t know how in the world that ties into this. She obviously wasn’t driving, that’s certain. I’m beginning to wonder if the car wasn’t just one big coincidence and had nothing to do with trying to kill Agnar at all. Maybe it was just some kid on a joyride. They didn’t hurt him, he was only grazed. His bike took most of the impact. What I do know for sure? I’m going to follow her tonight and see who she’s meeting.
She might not have killed Agnar, but she certainly wants to sink her claws into Knuckles, and I can’t let her do that without at least letting him see the whole picture.”

  “You do realize you could lose his friendship, don’t ya, lass?” Livingston warned.

  The very thought made me ache all over, especially my heart, which began to thump hard in my chest. “I know, Livingston. But I have to do what’s right, and my heart tells me I can’t let him go into this blind without having all the facts. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t at least tell him what I heard her say on the phone?”

  “If I haven’t said it before, I’ll say it now, ya have a pure heart, Trixie Lavender. Your soul is kind. Don’t let yourself forget that.”

  Yeah. Look where a kind soul had gotten me. A beat-up aging scream queen and the nicest man I knew steeped in his disappointment for me.

  Still, I rubbed Livingston’s chin. “I love you, Mr. Cranky Pants. Thanks for giving me some perspective.”

  “I’m always here. Now about those cookies…?”

  I laughed, my head falling back on the couch. “There’s always a catch with you, buddy.” Sitting back up, I realized I’d somehow hit something on my laptop and enlarged one of Suzanne’s pictures on her Instagram page.

  Feeling petty, I stuck my tongue out at her—but not before I noticed something I hadn’t noticed before.

  There were a bunch I didn’t have time to look through right now, but one caught my eye. A man, standing in the background on the set of her movie in Brazil. That same man in a different picture, somewhere with Suzanne next to him, surrounded by, guess who? A bunch of men. His eyes were adoring as he looked on at Suzanne in one pic, his smile youthful and above all, oddly hopeful.

  A man who looked just like Ben Adams…

  * * * *

  I texted Coop about what I’d just learned and asked her to pinpoint Suzanne’s location inside the house. I’d bet my eyeballs Ben was the one Suzanne had an affair with—this grip Lucinda had been talking about.

  A quick search of IMDB for the movie Born in Blood 2 and my mouth fell open. Lucinda had been wrong. Ben wasn’t the grip at all—he’d been a cameraman, and I only found that out by clicking on name after name of the crew listed until I got lucky and his picture, along with a list of his work credits, came up.

  Sure enough, David Pashman—his real name, as a by the by—had been on the crew of every single movie Suzanne had made over the last three years.

  So why the heck was he posing as a journalist from a shoddy tabloid? I needed to find a way to get in touch with him and see what his angle was.

  In the meantime, I had an idea. I was pretty good at mimicking voices, even Higgs had said so. If I could get my hands on Suzanne’s phone and dial up the list of numbers she’d called today, maybe I could figure out whom she was meeting tonight at an abandoned building.

  My phone buzzed, drawing my attention to a text from Coop. “She’s in the shower, and then she said she’s going out to clear her head.”

  “Is she okay?” I texted, the guilt of my assault on her person still weighing heavy on my heart.

  “She’s fine, Trixie Lavender. She has some bruises and a cut I tended, but she did accept my explanation about your seizures. It took some doing to talk her out of summoning the police for assault, but she’s pretty preoccupied with some meeting, and I was very convincing. So all is well.”

  “By talk her out of it, do you mean you threatened bodily harm?”

  I could almost hear Coop’s gasp of outrage from here. “Most certainly not. I spoke clearly and succinctly and there were no threats involved. I can’t blend with humans if I threaten them. Not even Suzanne.”

  I laughed. Looks as though I’d dodged another bullet thanks to Coop. “Find her phone. I’ll be right there.”

  Dropping a kiss on Livingston’s head, I pulled my purse over my shoulder. “Don’t eat too many of the cookies, pal. Your tummy won’t like you in the morning.”

  He happily munched on a full plate of Double Stufs while sitting on our small dining room table, getting crumbs all over the white oak wood. “Don’t ya worry yourself over me, dumplin’. Go on about your business. I’ll see ya later this eve.”

  I scurried out the back door and made my way toward Knuckles’s house, hopping up on his deck to poke my head in the French doors leading to the living room.

  “Coop! Where is she?” I whisper-yelled.

  Coop sashayed across the living room, Suzanne’s phone in hand, her eyes fixed on me. “Still in the shower. She’s been in there forever, so you’d better hurry up. What is your plan, Trixie Lavender?”

  “I’ll tell you later, but I have to hurry!” I turned, almost tripping over one of Knuckles’s large planters.

  “You’d better slow your stroll, or you won’t be hurrying anywhere but to the hospital,” she chastised.

  “Slow your roll,” I whispered on a chuckle. “I’ll be right back.”

  I held up a finger to my mouth to quiet her and snuck over the deck, rounding the corner to hide by an enormous rhododendron. Thankfully, Suzanne’s phone wasn’t password protected, so it was easy to see her most recent calls.

  If Livingston was correct, the call came in around twelve this afternoon. As I scrolled her incoming calls, I realized she’d called Knuckles several times. Where was he, anyway?

  The number that called had no name attached, so with fingers crossed, and my heart in my throat, I clicked send and dialed, clearing my throat to gear up to pretend to be Suzanne.

  It rang three times, making me think maybe it would go to voice mail, but then, “What’s up, Sugar?” a low, growly voice I didn’t recognize as any of the people I’d talked to about Suzanne thus far, answered.

  On a huge intake of breath, I plowed ahead, my eyes closed, my pulse racing. “Daaarling, I just want to double check the time for our meeting. You did say nine, didn’t you?”

  I heard some rustling, and then he drawled, “Yep, babe. Can’t wait to see you. It’s been too long. I miss you.”

  It was all I could do not to scream in victory. Suzanne had another fish on the line, and I was going to catch her in the act! Then I was going to find out where David Pashman was and why he was pretending to be a journalist from a tabloid.

  But then I remembered a piece of advice from Higgs—one lead at a time. So first, the meeting with this unknown man.

  Forcing my excitement down to a dull roar, I whispered, “Can’t wait, darling. See you then!” and hung up before I dug a hole I couldn’t come back from, but I wanted to dance and scream, “I knew it” at the top of my lungs.

  I don’t know who this man was or where she’d found him on such short notice—her affair with Grady Hanson had only just recently ended, but I was going to prove to Knuckles what a snake she was. I wasn’t even going to think about how angry he’d be with me. I could only think about protecting him from this viper.

  Now, all I had to do was follow Suzanne to their meeting place, get some video of her deception, and show it to Knuckles. I hated to hurt him, but I had to show him he was wrong about her in the worst possible way.

  As I made my way back to the house, Coop stuck her head out the French doors, her gorgeous face in full-on frown. “Give me the phone and stay out of sight. She just got out of the shower.”

  I lobbed the phone to her like it was a hot potato and ducked back around the house again, heading back to our place with a small measure of relief.

  Nine o’clock couldn’t come soon enough for me.

  Chapter 16

  I sat in my Caddy—not a terribly inconspicuous vehicle, mind you—in a parking lot across from the meet location, slumped down, waiting for Suzanne to arrive at this abandoned building, which by the by, was a little creepy. It was only five minutes till the hour, but I wanted a head start on this meeting. I wanted to go in prepared in order to catch Suzanne with a smoking gun.

  Which isn’t to say I was going to confront her. No. No. No confrontation
s. That’s not the case at all. I just wanted to catch Suzanne in the act of doing whatever she was going to do with this man somewhere she couldn’t see me doing so.

  I’d wanted to bring Coop with me, but Goose was the only one at the shop tonight, and Coop had two back-to-back appointments she needed to tend. Besides, this should be easy enough, some quick video from a nicely hidden vantage point, no fuss, no muss, right?

  Coop had texted that Suzanne had called for an Uber just before she left for the shop, and that was about a half hour ago. Now all I had to do was wait.

  While I waited, I looked at the picture of David Pashman on IMDB, and then I looked him up on Facebook. Could he be the person responsible for killing Agnar? But why? Over Suzanne? Had she somehow talked him into committing murder for her?

  If he adored her enough, was obsessed enough, it wasn’t so strange, I suppose.

  His Facebook page gave me the answer—sort of.

  If he hadn’t killed Agnar, he’d certainly been obsessed with Suzanne. Her picture was the banner of his Facebook page, along with dozens of stills he’d taken of her on the sets of the various movies he’d done, including the one in Brazil. Maybe he was just a stalker? Far different than a killer, mind you, but regardless, a person of interest.

  I think a text to Tansy was in order. What reason could he have had to approach me about Suzanne other than he was obsessed with her?

  I shook my head, unclear about his motives beyond his infatuation. Would he kill someone over a woman who’d dumped him, if you listened to Lucinda?

  Peering into the darkness, I noted this particular street had little to no available light, and it didn’t help that the clouds had moved in and the night was starless. However, that worked to my advantage. Hopefully, I could slip in and out of the car unnoticed.

  There wasn’t much around either, but I reminded myself, I wasn’t going in guns blazing. This was just a quick in and out, nothing more. Still, I shivered at the sight of the building with the windows blown out and the brick facade covered in graffiti.