by Judi Lynn
Her Viking nodded; she’d chosen the nickname for him since he was tall, fair, and Norse. His voice dripped sarcasm. “Yeah, I like fairy tales.”
Jerod nodded in her direction. “You haven’t seen Jazzi man a wheelbarrow.”
If he expected her to sprint with a full load of broken cement, he’d lost his grip on reality. It wasn’t going to happen.
Jerod took his cell phone out of his pocket to glance at the time. “Three-thirty. What if we call it quits today and drive to my place to look at the basement?”
Ansel nodded agreement. “No need to lean on the jackhammer and start breaking up the driveway now. It can wait till tomorrow.”
Ansel picked up George to carry the pug to his work van. Jazzi locked up the house behind them; she slid onto the passenger seat, and they followed Jerod south to his place. When they passed a house on Fairfield, Jazzi noticed Thane’s work van parked in its driveway. They’d make sure that Darby had finished making deliveries at their place before they called Thane to put in a furnace. He and Darby must have more history than he wanted them to know.
They turned off Fairfield onto Airport Express. George, as usual, curled on the back seat and slept. Jerod’s old farmhouse lay fifteen minutes past the south side of River Bluffs on two acres of property. A sturdy picket fence surrounded the pond Jerod had dug at the back of the long yard—a safety measure to ensure the kids never tried to swim unchaperoned. The white two-story had green shutters and a green tin roof. Franny opened the door for them when they climbed the steps to the front porch, and Jazzi squeezed past her stomach. Franny wasn’t due until the middle of February, but she looked ready to pop now. Gunther and Lizzie ran to hang on Ansel’s legs when they saw him, and he stomped around the entry while they laughed and giggled.
Jerod looked disgusted. “I see how I rate. I only feed you and keep a roof over your heads, and you ignore me for Norseman.”
“Norseman!” Gunther cried. Ansel’s other nickname. Jazzi’s fiancée was mostly Norwegian with white-blond hair and blue eyes. When he knelt on the floor for the two kids to climb on his back for a horsey ride, Jazzi watched his luscious fanny as he crawled away from her.
He must have felt her gaze on him, because he glanced at her over his shoulder with a grin.
Franny was drooling, too, until she winced and put a hand to her stomach. At Jazzi’s questioning look, she said, “The baby kicked. He does that a lot.”
“He?” Jerod stared at his wife.
She pushed loose strands of carrot-colored hair away from her face and smiled. “I visited the doctor today, remember? He sent me for an ultrasound.”
Jerod raised his arms in a victory symbol. “A boy!”
Franny frowned. “Would you have been disappointed if it was a girl?”
“Not if she has orange hair and freckles like you.”
He had chosen the right answer. Franny practically glowed.
Ansel circled the dining room table and crawled back to them, nodding for the kids to get off him. They went to pet George. The pug took them in his stride. When Ansel stood, he clapped Jerod on the shoulder. “Congrats! Got a name picked out?”
Jerod raised his eyebrows at Franny. “We’re still haggling. She read a romance where the guy’s name was Zane, and she’s voting for that. It doesn’t do it for me.”
“I kinda like it.” Jazzi looked at Ansel.
He gave a noncommittal shrug. “It’s okay, I guess.”
Franny’s gray eyes lit up. “Oh, Jazzi, you have to read it! Zane’s a prince who can turn into a dragon, and he’s so hot! Dragon Among Them by Kyra Jacobs. You can download it to your Kindle.”
When was the last time she’d read a book that got her hot and bothered? She’d have to look it up.
Jerod looked horrified. “We’re not naming our kid Zane. You’ll have hot flashes every time you think of that prince.”
Franny laughed. “You’re just jealous. We have plenty of time to worry about a name. Right now, I need to go check on supper, and you need to show Jazzi and Ansel the basement.”
Franny started toward their big country kitchen with its huge island, and Jerod led Jazzi and Ansel down the basement steps. He’d rebuilt them so they were sturdy and had railings on both sides. “I don’t want Franny or a kid to fall.”
The basement had plenty of room. Ansel’s attention went to the cement blocks that formed the foundation. “Good and solid,” he said. “All we have to do is put up a moisture barrier, then build frames for drywall.”
Jazzi checked out the cement floors. “The cement’s chipped in places and crumbling on top. Nothing deep. We can pour a thin layer and smooth it out.”
Jerod poked at a small patch of chipped cement with the toe of his work boot. “I don’t want to spend a fortune on this. I thought I’d buy cheap indoor-outdoor carpet to cover the floor once we smooth out the cement. Then the kids can jump rope and skateboard down here if they want to. I want to hang a flat-screen TV, too, so they can watch movies or play video games, and Franny wants me to build a craft table for the far side.”
Ansel looked impressed. “Sounds like kid heaven to me.”
Jerod grinned. “I sure hope so. I’d rather they brought their friends to our house instead of disappearing on us.”
When they climbed the steps again, Franny yelled from the kitchen. “You’re welcome to stay for supper if you want to. I made plenty.”
An acrid smell drifted toward them. Ansel said, “Thanks anyway, but Jazzi has fish thawed at home. It’s been out all day, so we’d better cook it.”
Jazzi gave him a look. She didn’t know her Norseman was so good at fibbing. But he sniffed again and shook his head at her. Jerod had told them over and over again that his wife wasn’t the best cook in America, and Ansel loved good food. He wasn’t willing to risk this.
Jerod raised an eyebrow, but his lips curved in a grin. “I’ve held you up long enough. Go make your supper, and thanks for coming.”
They grabbed George and made their getaway before Franny dished up. On the drive home, Ansel said, “It’s late, and fish does sound good. Let’s stop at Big-Eyed Fish to grab some on our way home.”
He’d get no arguments from her. She loved the fried pollock, wild rice, and coleslaw. George loved fish, too. And she wouldn’t have to cook. Win/win. Besides, her muscles protested more than usual after a job. They’d had to crouch and bend to build the frame for the foundation. When she took a shower tonight, she was going to stand under the hot water for a long time.
Chapter 3
When Jazzi opened the kitchen door, pushed off her work boots, and carried the bag of takeout inside, she was attacked by two naughty, furry troublemakers. Inky and Marmalade wove around her ankles, meowing for their supper. While George made a habit of begging for people food, the cats ran to their food bowls, waiting for their cans of Fancy Feast.
“Have you been good today?” Jazzi filled both bowls and stroked the cats’ smooth fur. She stood to survey the room for damage, and sure enough, another pitcher of flowers was knocked over and the glass pitcher broken. Jazzi had given up using her good vases for the flowers she bought at the grocery store. Now she used rinsed-out pickle jars, bottles, and chipped mugs. Fussing, she went to clean up the mess and find something new to put the bouquet in.
Ansel carried George inside after parking the van in the garage. Instead of walking to his food dish, the pug came to the kitchen island and stared at the plastic sack the food was in. Ansel bent to pat his head. “George always gets hungry when he smells food all the way home.”
Jazzi rolled her eyes. “George is always hungry, no matter what.”
Ansel grinned. “It’s genetic. He’s my dog.”
“I’m not sure it works that way.” Jazzi put out paper plates and went to get them each a beer. They sat side by side on the kitchen stools to eat their meal.
/> “I wonder what Thane and Olivia are eating tonight. Pizza?” Ansel couldn’t get over the fact that Jazzi’s mom and sister didn’t like to cook.
“There’s a big variety of takeout where they live—Mexican, Chinese, lots of big chains.”
He wrinkled his nose. “That’s great for once in a while.”
“Thane doesn’t mind. He knew Olivia didn’t cook when he moved in with her.”
Ansel was quiet a minute, frowning. “Do you think the thing between Thane and Darby goes long-term, or do you think it’s been since Thane met your sister?”
“Beats me. I didn’t know they had a thing until today.” She lowered her fork for a second and let her gaze wander around their kitchen.
Ansel shook his head, alarmed. “No, no, no. We’re knocking down walls at the Southwood Park house. The kitchen and dining room will have plenty of space for people to get together, and we can do a deep sink and an island, too, but we have to stay in budget. Butcher-block countertops instead of granite. Ceramic tiles instead of real wood.”
She grimaced. “I was thinking about the backsplash.”
“Subway tile does the trick, babe, and it looks good.”
“But glass is so pretty, and it comes in so many colors.”
“And it costs five times more.” He turned to argue with her, saw her cocky grin, and glared. “You’re just giving me a hard time.”
She wasn’t repentant. “It’s your own fault. You started it. You didn’t even know what I was thinking about when you went into no mode.”
“Okay, I have to give you that, but you had that look…the one that usually costs money.” He quirked an eyebrow. “So, what were you thinking about?”
“How much I love our house, how perfect it is for us.” When Jazzi and Jerod had bought the stone cottage, they’d meant to fix it up and flip it, but the longer Jazzi worked on it, the more she wanted to keep it. So she’d bought out Jerod’s half, and once she and Ansel grew more serious, they’d planned its renovations together.
Ansel glanced at their surroundings with a satisfied smile. “We were lucky. We got the right house at the right time, and we ended up in it together. Olivia and Thane got lucky, too. Their house suits them.”
Jazzi pinched her lips together at the mention of Thane. He wasn’t what she’d call good-natured, but he was usually easygoing and tended to be on the quiet side. “I can’t imagine what Darby said or did that could make Thane that angry.”
“Darby was talking about someone whom Thane liked a lot, someone he’d invited to move in with him. And Thane accused Darby of driving that person away or worse.”
Jazzi blinked, remembering. “Thane asked if Darby had buried him.”
“And a Rose. Two people disappeared and were never heard of again.” Ansel finished his supper, gave George one last bite of fish, and started to clean the island.
Jazzi stood to help him, still deep in thought. “You don’t think Darby did kill two people, do you? He has an attitude if you aggravate him.”
“If two people disappeared, I’m sure the cops looked into it.”
“What if they did, but they just didn’t find enough evidence?” Inky leapt onto the sink counter to bat at the flowers again, and Jazzi lifted him off. Of the two cats, Inky was usually the instigator. Since she was at the sink, she grabbed the dishcloth and went to wipe off the island.
The kitchen clean, they headed upstairs for quick showers and changed into their pajamas. The hot water had soothed Jazzi’s aching muscles. They’d ache more tomorrow after she rolled a wheelbarrow around all day. But for now, it was time to relax. Ansel started for the living room and his favorite couch. Jazzi and George followed behind, and Ansel lifted George so that he could stretch near his feet. On the couch across from him, Inky and Marmalade took up their favorite spots beside Jazzi.
Ansel turned to her before turning on the TV. “Do you think we could ask Thane about Darby, or would we get another short answer?”
“I don’t know. It’ll probably depend on his mood, but he’s been harboring his grudge against Darby for a while. I’d sure love to know what happened between them.”
“So would I. If I find the right opening, I’m going to ask.”
He was braver than she was. She meant to avoid the subject if she could. Sure, she was curious, but she didn’t want Thane to get aggravated with her.
Ansel turned to her again. “Do you think Olivia knows?”
“I’m betting she does. That was my game plan. I thought I’d bring it up when we go out on Thursday.” Jazzi and her sister met at a restaurant for dinner every Thursday night, their “girls’ night out.” Jazzi had her family over every Sunday for a family meal, so they could all catch up with each other, but there were so many people that there was no guarantee she and Olivia would get a chance to talk.
Ansel leaned back on his couch cushion, looking satisfied. “That sounds like a better plan than me pestering Thane about it.”
They let the conversation drop and enjoyed some TV until Ansel stretched and yawned. “I’m ready to call it a day. You?”
Jazzi jostled the cats to stand up. “I’m tired, too.”
They turned off lights and started up the stairs. Ansel bent to scoop up George, and Jazzi relaxed. When Ansel carried George upstairs with them, there’d be no hanky-panky, just sleep. Her muscles still ached enough that she was fine with that. The cats raced up the stairs after her, and soon George snored in his dog bed, and Inky and Marmalade snuggled against her legs. Ansel’s hand slid under the sheets to rest on her hip, and she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 4
Ansel worked the jackhammer. Jazzi and Jerod manned the wheelbarrows. The Southwood Park house’s driveway wasn’t incredibly long, but it would take them most of the day to break it up, clear it, and build the frame for a new one. Even though George didn’t like the constant rat-a-tat-tat of the hammer, he stayed on the small back porch to watch them with a pained expression on his doggy face.
The morning had started out cool, but the temperature rose until they could toss off their flannel shirts. For Jazzi, this was distracting, since Ansel wore only a white T-shirt under his. Watching his muscles strain as he worked proved the only happy moments of today’s job. Lifting chunks of concrete into her wheelbarrow and rolling them to the dumpster they’d rented strained Jazzi’s arms and back. Nothing a hot bath and two Advil couldn’t fix, but she was feeling the ache the longer they worked.
The leaves on a tree a block away had changed to brilliant orange before any fellow maples flamed with color. It would be another week or two before yellows and reds joined this tree’s vivid glory.
They’d started early today and took a quick lunch break, so that by two, Jerod could use their backhoe to dig out a new drive. Jazzi and Ansel hammered the wooden forms as soon as Jerod had a section ready, and by three-thirty, they were ready for Darby to arrive with the gravel, as planned. Only three-thirty came and went, and Darby didn’t show up.
Ansel swiped sweat. “You don’t think he crossed us off his deliveries list because he got mad at Thane, do you? I was hoping we could level out the gravel and tamp it before we left tonight.”
Jerod was walking toward the backhoe but called over his shoulder, “If we finish the base tonight, we could pour concrete tomorrow.”
That meant working overtime, but Jazzi was okay with that. She’d like to get the gravel done, too.
“Only one way to find out.” She dug for her cell phone and called Darby’s office.
Someone picked up, but it wasn’t Darby. “Earl here. How can I help you?”
She explained that they were waiting for a delivery that hadn’t come.
“Darby never came in today,” Earl told her. “He has the gravel loaded, though. I’m finished for the day and can drive it over for you, if that’s okay.”
“Better t
han okay. We’d appreciate it,” Jazzi said. “See you soon.”
Ansel asked. “What’s up?”
“Darby didn’t show today. One of his drivers is going to deliver the gravel.”
Jerod’s frown matched Ansel’s. “Darby’s never left us in the lurch before. It’s not like him.”
“Maybe he’s sick.” But Ansel shook his head, dismissing that idea almost before he’d finished talking. “You’d think he’d call in. I mean, he owns the business.”
“Maybe he drank too much last night and has a killer hangover.” Jerod sounded like that might be a possibility. “I can’t remember him missing a day of work, though.”
“But he’s never punched anyone on a job site either,” Jazzi reminded him. “At least, not one of ours.”
They went to sit on the back-porch steps to stretch their legs until the truck arrived. George scooted closer to Ansel, and Ansel stroked his smooth fur. Jazzi rolled her shoulders. They ached. Her back hurt. Her legs felt stiff. Hauling concrete was heavy work. When Earl backed the truck into their drive, she cringed when she stood up.
Ansel grinned at her. “I give great massages if you need some attention when we get home.”
“I think every part of me is sore.”
His grin widened. “Even better.”
Jerod shook his head in disgust. “I’d tell you to get a room, but you might like that idea.”
Laughing, they walked to greet Earl.
“This where you want it?” the man called. At Jerod’s nod, Earl partially tipped the bed of the truck to let gravel fall in a thick layer as he drove forward. He’d made it a third of the way down the drive when a tangle of legs and arms tumbled out of the truck and landed, facedown, on the gravel. Jerod threw up his hands to stop work.
“Hold it!” Ansel shouted.
Earl stepped on the truck’s brake and turned off the engine. Ansel ran to stoop over the body. They all gathered around when he reached to turn it over, but he hesitated. “Can I touch it?” he asked. “Or will that ruin the crime scene?”
