Lock, Stock, and Feral
Page 2
No sooner do his lips twitch than Camila Ryder zips up with the pretty redhead dutifully by her side once again.
It’s showtime, Bizzy! “Hello, Jasper.” Camila gives an open-mouthed smile up at her ex-fiancé. “Guess who’s here for the book club tonight? I believe you once referred to her as the one that got away? It’s Hadley Culpepper!”
My mouth falls open as Jasper and Hadley exchange dumbfounded stares.
“The one who got away?” I meant for it to come out playful, almost teasing, but it came out with just as much shock as I’m currently feeling.
“Hadley?” Jasper’s arms glide off of me as he takes a step in her direction.
“Jasper Wilder.” A smile cinches on the redhead’s face. And to think I let this one go all because I was afraid. “Come here, you handsome beast.” She wraps her arms around him and they exchange a rather spirited embrace.
You handsome beast? Fish muses. Why do I get the feeling this woman is trouble?
I make a face in their direction.
As much as I hate to admit it, Fish just might be right.
Camila chortles to herself as she joins the happy couple.
Murder is afoot tonight.
And I might just be the one to do it.
Chapter 2
I’m sorry, Bizzy, Jasper says as he glances my way. Do you mind if I take a minute?
I wave him off as if to say, Take all the time you need. With the one that got away, no less. I can’t help but wrinkle my nose at the woman when that last thought flies through my mind, but Jasper is already too immersed in their conversation to notice.
Of course, my husband knows I can read minds.
And speaking of another person who’s well aware of my telepathic prowling abilities, Georgie Conner, an eighty-something woman with long, gray, scraggly hair (think electrocuted by way of a socket), and sparkling blue eyes barrels this way with my mother on her heels. Georgie has a penchant for wearing nothing but comfy kaftans. The kaftan in question tonight is lavender, and it just so happens to bring out the mischief in Georgie’s eyes. Georgie is a diehard hippie who happens to be an artist who specializes in mosaics.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite two old broads,” I say a touch too loud as I force a smile. A part of me is hoping Jasper’s old flame will see that I’m not threatened in the least by her redheaded, pouty-lipped, hourglass-figured presence.
I’m not, am I?
Regardless, the two old broads sentiment wasn’t a putdown for two of my favorite women. Mom and Georgie happen to own a shop down on Main Street that sells everything from quilts to mosaics with the same zany moniker, Two Old Broads. My sister thought of the name, and to everyone’s surprise, the general public loves it.
“You won’t believe it, Bizzy,” Georgie says as she wags the book of the hour at me.
“You liked the book?” I ask.
“Eh.” She shrugs.
Mom balks her way. “What do you mean, eh? The book was really good. It was a killer read.” She chuckles my way. Mom is petite with dainty features, wears her hair feathered back circa 1980-something, and her wardrobe more or less pays homage to that very same totally rad era as well, as evidenced by tonight’s floral popped collar blouse and tapered jeans.
Georgie growls as she takes Fish from me. Georgie just so happens to be one of the brave and the few who are in on my telesensual secret—that’s the proper name for my gift. Telesensual falls under the umbrella of transmundane, a broad spectrum of powers of which there are many.
“I didn’t think much of the book.” Georgie smacks Fish on the forehead with a kiss. “There was no action in it.”
“No action?” Mom balks. “What about the big chase scene at the end with all the guns and the flying bullets?”
Georgie waves her off. “I meant action in the bedroom.”
Mom rolls her eyes. “It’s a cozy mystery, Georgie. They’re not exactly known for their torrid love scenes.”
“Why not?” Georgie is quick to question the lust levels of an entire genre of mysteries.
“I don’t know,” Mom shrills with just as much fervor. “Maybe the people who write them hate sex.”
Georgie chokes on her next breath. “Hate sex? How do they think they got here?”
“All right, ladies.” I give a loose smile at the handful of heads that have turned our way. “Let’s keep it G. This is a family show tonight, despite the wine.”
“You’ve got wine?” Mom’s eyes spring wide open at the prospect of vino. “This just gets better and better.” She giggles, and I inch back a notch.
“Did you just giggle?” I ask.
Fish yowls, Ree Baker does not giggle. Perhaps she’s already hit the vino?
Perhaps so.
Georgie smacks my mother on the arm. “Go on, Toots, and spill the French beans or I’ll be forced to do it myself.”
“What French beans?” My antennae go up without hesitation.
“Fine.” Mom is back to glowering at the ceiling a moment. “I met a man.” She shrugs. “You and your siblings are forever after me to get out there and meet someone, and so I’ve taken your advice.”
I choose to momentarily overlook the fact I’ve never said such a thing.
“Where did you meet this person? Please tell me it’s not some stalker you picked up from that YouTube show you’re running?” For the last few weeks, Georgie and my mother have been hosting a half hour show out of their shop as a way to drum up some business. They’re just showcasing new products more or less, and telling odd jokes—and I do mean odd—and they’ve done a recipe or two. They don’t have an explosive audience, but they think they do. And they’re convinced it’s boosted business by twenty percent—whatever that means.
Mom shakes her head. “No, he’s not a stalker. He’s a businessman. His name is Romero. He’s from Wichita, but he’s currently in Paris scouting a European location to expand his business.”
“Romero from Wichita,” I say. “What kind of business?” I ask, cocking my head with suspicion.
“Software something or other. We’re still getting to know one another, so I’m not prying too deep. We met on that app that’s all the rage for people over fifty, Dating Not Waiting. It’s completely safe, so you don’t have to worry about me.”
Georgie’s phone chirps and she all but tosses Fish in the air as she yanks it out of her pocket.
“Ah-ha!” She fiddles with the screen a moment. “I’ve got another one!”
“Another what?” my mother asks and I’m glad she did because I was almost afraid to go there.
Georgie makes a face her way. “You’re not the only one with another shtick going. I’ve got me another gig, too. I signed onto Rent-a-Grandma. This is my second booking this week. The first one was some old kook who wanted to watch Fun Flix and chill.”
I gasp at the thought. “Georgie! That man was a pervert.”
“Well, for a pervert, he sure missed his mark. After one solid minute, he fell asleep. The movie wasn’t so bad, though.”
A cool breeze whistles our way just as my best friend, Emmie, waltzes in along with her fiancé, Leo Granger, and they each just so happen to be holding a platter of—green cookies?
“Why are they green?” Mom makes a face, but Georgie takes one for the team and shoves a green disc into her mouth.
“Because they’re delicious!” Georgie moans as she scoops up a few more for herself.
“Thank you,” Emmie says. “They’re pistachio pudding delights. Although they do sort of look like green chocolate chip cookies, I can assure you they can hold their own in the yummy department.”
Both Emmie and I share the same long dark hair, denim blue eyes, and we even share the same formal moniker—Elizabeth. But since we’ve been friends forever, we’ve both gone by the nicknames our families have gifted us—Emmie and Bizzy.
“Take one, Biz.” Emmie stops shy of shoving her platter my way. “Hey? Who’s that woman Jasper is arguing with?”
Odd. The hostile nature of their conversation almost acts as an echo to the one Jasper seems to be having.
What in the world could have Jasper in such a rage?
A hard groan comes from Leo. Oh no. Not her.
I gasp as I turn to Leo. “What do you mean not her?”
Leo Granger is the one person I know who actually shares my mindreading abilities. He’s telesensual as well. He happens to be engaged to Emmie, and because of this, Emmie is apprised of our well-guarded secret. Leo is Jasper’s best friend—the very best friend that Camila cheated on Jasper with. That pretty much put a damper on Leo and Jasper’s friendship until about a year ago when they made up. But now things are great between them, and not only do they work together at the Seaview Sheriff’s Department where Leo is a deputy, but they’re paired up with a couple of lifelong besties.
“Never mind, Bizzy,” Leo mutters as he takes off in their direction, and before I can follow, Devan Abner gives a sharp whistle and asks that everyone take their seats.
Every person in the room scrambles to do just that, and I end up with Jasper on one side of me and Georgie on the other.
Sherlock trots over and settles on the floor between Jasper and me. Don’t tell Emmie, but I don’t think her cookies look very delicious. She should try adding some bacon to them next time.
Fish hisses in his direction, Humans don’t like bacon in their cookies, you ninny.
Surprisingly, sometimes they do.
Macy tiptoes this way and bumps Jasper over a seat, promptly taking his place.
“Here, take this,” she whispers, shoving the tiny orange ball of fluff my way. “If anyone asks, his name is Clyde and I adopted him from a nearby shelter last week.”
“And where did Clyde really come from?” I ask. The last time we were about to get to that part of the conversation, Patterson Higgins and his well-fitted suit interrupted.
“I found him cowering behind a pot outside of the inn.”
“Aww,” I coo at the sweet thing. “He must be a stray.”
What’s a stray? the tiny cutie mewls while shivering with fear in my arms, and judging by the higher pitch to its inner voice, I’m betting Clyde is a girl. Our inner voices almost always mimic what our vocal cords produce.
Apparently, you are, Fish mewls right back.
I don’t know how the animals seem to understand one another, but they always do.
This is Bizzy, the one holding you, Fish yowls her way. And she can hear your thoughts and understand you. Once we’re away from the other bipeds, she’ll be happy to speak with you further. For now, you’ll have to wait until we’re through here. They’ll be discussing a murder. And if I’m right, we’ll be treated to one as well. Bizzy is delinquent one, rather hostile, homicide. It’s sort of a hobby of hers to stumble upon the dead.
A body hunter! Clyde twitches her whiskers my way as if the thought delighted her.
My mouth falls open as I give both of the cats a look. I shake my head, trying to brush the thought of a murder out of my mind for now.
I pick the tiny orange thing up and do a quick inspection, and sure enough, I’m right.
“He’s a she,” I say to my sister. “And I can take her from here.”
“No way,” Macy whispers through the side of her mouth. “As soon as we’re ready to mingle again, Clyde is mine. She’s my ticket to the inner workings of Patterson Higgins’ darkest chambers—i.e., his bedroom.” A dark laugh strums through her just as Devan Abner stands at the front of our circle.
“Welcome everyone to the Grim Readers Book Club!” Devan calls out, and her blonde mane glistens under the lights as she garners the attention of everyone in the room. “On behalf of the original members, I want to welcome all of the new faces we have here tonight. And I want to thank Bizzy Baker Wilder, the owner of the Country Cottage Inn, for graciously hosting us here tonight. The wine, the cheese, the cookies are all fantastic!”
A light applause erupts in agreement.
It’s true, I do own the inn. I inherited it just last December after the original owner met a rather untimely demise. I still get shivers thinking about the poor man’s murder. As much as I hate to admit it, Fish is right. According to the homicidal pattern we seem to be in, we’re due for yet another untimely demise.
Devan holds up the book in her hand. The cover has a picture of a lavender field with a bright blue sky and a discarded revolver.
“Tonight’s selection is Lock, Stock, and Double Barrel Peril by S.L. Teller,” she raises her voice as she says it. “Who here has finished the book?”
Almost every hand in the room goes up save for Macy, but once Patterson Higgins glances in this direction, her hand shoots up like a bottle rocket.
“Okay!” Devan does her best to sound like an enthusiastic book coach ready to cheer us to the literary finish line. “Let’s open up the floor with what you liked best about the book. Anyone like to go first?”
“The cover,” someone shouts from the back and the room fills with groans and chuckles.
Georgie scoffs. “That’s because it needed a little hanky-panky in it.”
Patterson gives a pained smile as he raises his hand. “In the author’s defense, the novel was centered around a murder investigation. It’s tough to work a little romance in there. Does anyone want to give a brief synopsis of the book to get us going?”
That’s interesting. I guess he’s a moderator, too. He must be one of the lead members.
“How about you, Hadley?” His lips curve in the redhead’s direction, but she’s not smiling back. In fact, she looks as if she’s shooting daggers at him.
Macy gasps as she leans my way. “I knew that was her. That’s Hadley Culpepper.”
I inch back and examine my sister. “How in the world do you know her?” I leave out the detail of her being the one that got away from my husband.
“You know her, too,” she whispers. “We used to watch her on that show, Esmeralda the Teenage Magician. I think it was the only thing she did in Hollywood. I read an article a few years back that said she got out of the business—it wasn’t for her or something like that.”
Georgie leans in. “That’s what they all say when they can’t get work.”
Oh my stars, I do remember that show! I was completely addicted. Esmeralda was my very last Halloween costume as a teenager. I used to wish Emmie and I could meet her so that the three of us could be best friends. And to think she’d go on to sleep with my own husband one day.
I sit up straight as I look over at Jasper.
Did she sleep with my husband?
Jasper glances my way and does a double take.
Everything okay? His brows furrow as he asks the question.
No. Everything is not okay.
I turn to face the front again. I’ll deal with him later.
Hadley clears her throat, her eyes still sharpened over Patterson’s. “Why, I would like to give a synopsis. It was a typical pig in a poke plotline. The main character, Summerset, was tricked into purchasing a worthless gold mine. Jed, the murder victim, sprayed down a stretch of land with gold dust and requested a mint for it—which Summerset happily paid after he begged, borrowed, and stole from his parents. Once he realized he’d been had, he tried to demand his money back. And when that didn’t work, he decided to kill Jed.”
“Good.” Patterson winks her way. “You have quite the way with words, Ms. Culpepper. That was a perfect synopsis.” And later tonight I’ll give her a perfect synopsis of how I feel about her—with my body.
My mouth falls open at hearing the salacious thought. I won’t lie. It thril
ls me to know she has another romantic prospect on the horizon who is not my husband. In fact, Patterson can take a bottle of wine with him on the way out. Heck, they can both take a bottle. I might take one myself and make a party out of it with Jasper. Only I won’t be mentioning a thing about Hadley and her perfect toothy grin to him.
I can’t believe he slept with Esmeralda. Worse yet, I can’t believe I’m steaming mad over it. I’m being ridiculous and I can’t seem to control it. The next thing you know, I’ll fall into a jealous rage and start throwing books at her.
Devan lifts her chin. “Anybody like to fill the rest of the room in on how Summerset murdered Jed?”
“Shelly?” Patterson nods to the woman with the long gray hair, the heavier woman who I bumped into earlier this evening.
“It’s Liv,” she corrects him, and that snippy tone in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed. I bet they would like me to review it. “It would be my pleasure.”
She glowers over in their direction, but I can’t tell if she’s upset with Devan or with Patterson. I’m going to go out on a limb and say it’s the handsome man in the suit. I get the feeling the only people who can tolerate him are the hordes of women who are after him—like my sister. And I bet not one of them is interested in his personality.
Liv glances down at the book in her hand. “Summerset killed Jed by injecting bitter orange into his wine. A toxic compound he cooked down to ensure the maximum deadly benefits.”
“That’s right,” Devan says. “But Summerset’s problems with Jed didn’t end there, did they? What happened to Summerset after Jed died?”
Mom raises her hand, and a tiny spear of pride infiltrates me. My mother always has something intelligent to say.
“Go on.” Devan nods her way.
“Summerset fell in love with Lydia, his next-door neighbor.”
The room breaks out into titters, and even Devan herself laughs the idea off.