Double Shot

by Cindy Blackburn

  “I’m a bit less confident in Kevin Cooper,” I said. “I don’t see him protecting me if the culprit turns out to be Bobby or Henry. Or even Spencer for that matter.”

  Wilson slid my tea across the counter. “Kevin’s a librarian, Jessie.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Would you stop worrying about who’s there to protect you? That’s my job, which you’ve now made a whole lot harder.”

  I assured my beau I would be extremely careful not to blow anyone’s cover. “I won’t even speak to them unless I have to.” I winked at Snowflake. “I suppose I’ll just have to pay attention to Spencer Erring and his lovely dimples instead.”

  “Which brings us to our good friend Candy.” Wilson leaned on the counter. “What does Carter think about his girlfriend hanging out at the Wade On Inn?”

  “They broke up again.”

  “What’s that, like the tenth time?”

  “Apparently Carter doesn’t like dogs. But don’t be such a chauvinist, Wilson. Boyfriend or not, Candy has every right to spend her evenings any way she sees fit.”

  “Candy Poppe causes a testosterone-induced riot wherever she goes. The woman needs a chaperone at the grocery store, for God’s sake.”

  Okay, good point. Candy has been known to procure a date or two while browsing the produce aisle. I sipped my tea. And the dairy case.

  “She had Karen and me chaperoning her tonight,” I offered.

  “Gee, I feel so much better now.” Wilson stared at my rhinestone dog collar. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”

  “I’m having too much fun? After that cozy little scene I witnessed between you and Tiffany, you’re accusing me of having too much fun?” Wilson tried to speak, but I was on a roll. “If you’re hiring chaperones, you might think about getting one for Tiffany Sass. Tiffany Sass!” I threw my hands up. “Sheesh!”

  “What about Tiffany?” I kid you not—the man actually said those words.

  “Do not toy with me, Wilson Rye. What’s going on between you and that girl?”

  “Come on, Jessie. You know there’s nothing going on.”

  We locked eyes. And I must admit that those baby blues, intense even in un-intense moments, were a little unnerving.“I saw you groping her,” I said. “Lord only knows what would have happened if I hadn’t arrived when I did.”

  I looked at Snowflake, who was now sitting on the counter between us and following the argument. “You two were very close to getting yourselves arrested by one of your own officers.” Wilson started chuckling. “For lewd and licentious behavior,” I continued.

  “Lewd and licentious? You’re overreacting, Jessie.”

  I reminded my beau that I never overreact. “But I was tempted to take notes. You know, for my next book?” I squinted suspiciously. “And what kind of name is Tiffany Sass, anyway? She sounds like one of Adelé Nightingale’s heroines, for Lord’s sake.”

  “She has the looks for it.”

  I glared like I have never glared before.

  “Jessie!” he said. “There is nothing going on between me and Sergeant Sass.” He leaned across the counter, but I backed away from an attempted kiss.

  “First of all.” He stood back up. “The girl is young enough to be my daughter, as you keep reminding me. It would be completely unethical, even if I weren’t her supervisor. What do you take me for?”

  “Dammit,” I mumbled.

  “You have nothing to worry about.” Again, he tried sounding sincere. “I’m in—” he hesitated.

  I folded my arms and continued glaring. “You’re in what, Wilson?”

  He looked at Snowflake for support, but for once the cat seemed to be on my side. The two of us waited for an answer.

  “I’m involved with you.” His voice had gotten all husky. “Very involved,” he added.

  I decided to pet Snowflake.

  “What the hell are you wearing?” he asked eventually.

  I knew where his eyes were aimed, but I stifled a grin and jiggled my earrings. “They’re Candy’s. Do you like them?”

  He frowned and continued staring at my chest.

  “Remember we decided my diamonds would stand out too much at the Wade On Inn?” I asked.

  “I’ll tell you what’s standing out, darlin.’ And it ain’t those earrings.”

  “You’ve seen this sweater before.”

  “That sweater,” he reached across the counter and brushed my newfound curves with the back of his hand, “has never looked like this before.”

  I reminded my beau that women at the Wade On Inn tend to dress a little flashy. “So Candy suggested I wear my first-ever push up bra.” I leaned forward. “Do you like it?”

  He took a deep breath. “Lord, give me strength.”

  Eventually he looked up. “How much did you win tonight?”

  “Not nearly enough to endure all the country music.” I hopped down from the barstool. “I need a shower,” I said and headed toward the bathroom.

  “How much did you win, Jessie?” Wilson followed me. “I need to know for my report.”

  I turned around at the tub and pulled off my sweater. “You better not be reporting this, Captain Rye.”

  Chapter 10

  Sarina Blyss couldn’t sleep for thinking of her handsome stranger. She lay in bed, gazing at the ceiling, and envisioning the kind gentleman who had given her a ride into town earlier that week. Oh, how she wished their journey had never ended!

  But alas, they had arrived in St. Celeste. And what with making Mrs. Dickerson’s acquaintance, and being bustled into her dress shop, Sarina hadn’t the opportunity to thank the stranger, or even learn his name. Indeed, by the time she thought to turn and bid the gentleman goodbye, his carriage had disappeared.

  Sarina discovered the reason for such haste when Mrs. Dickerson called her attention to her ripped bodice. Oh dear! What must the handsome stranger have thought? Sarina was ever so grateful when the older woman offered to mend the damage.

  The kind lady guided her behind a screen and instructed her to disrobe. And all the while she sewed, the seamstress sputtered indignantly about dastardly scoundrels who were wont to take advantage of every pretty girl they had the honor to meet.

  Hidden behind the screen, Sarina stifled a giggle. But then she realized Mrs. Dickerson was referring to her own handsome stranger. The woman thought that the stranger had—. That he had—. Oh, dear!

  Sarina protested vehemently and insisted her stranger had been ever so kind, but Mrs. Dickerson refused to listen, or to enlighten her as to who the gentleman might be. She returned Sarina’s frock with a stern admonition to put the man completely out of her mind.

  Sarina promised to try, and as she buttoned her dress, she was even so bold as to mention that she herself was an accomplished seamstress. And come to learn, Mrs. Dickerson was in search of an assistant!

  Thus Sarina Blyss had found employment on her very first day away from home. Lodging also. For Mrs. Dickerson insisted she take up residence in the room above the dress shop, where she could keep a protective eye on her.

  Sarina lay in bed, marveling at her vast good fortune. Despite her promise to Mrs. Dickerson, when she finally did close her eyes, her handsome stranger occupied her every dream.

  ***

  I was filling Sarina’s night with some scintillating dreams indeed when the buzzer from downstairs rang, and I remembered my own less than vast good fortune—namely Ian Crawcheck. I took a pre-emptive Advil and buzzed him in.

  “What took you so long?” he asked when I opened my door.

  I pointed him toward the bathroom, reminded him about Snowflake’s litter box, and returned to my desk. But I had barely gotten Sarina back into the dress shop the next morning, where she was about to encounter the vile constable of St. Celeste and face criminal charges of all things, when my phone rang.

  “I’m not disturbing you and Wilson, Jessie?” It was Candy.

  “I only wish,” I said. “Ian’s here.”
>
  “Did you kiss and make up?” She gasped. “With Wilson, I mean. You seemed kind of mad last night.”

  I told my nosy neighbor not to worry.

  “So you did kiss and make up?”

  “Something like that,” I mumbled. “Did you call for a particular reason, Sweetie? Aren’t you at work?”

  “I’m on break. We’re having a sale on push-up bras. You should come see.”

  “No time,” I said and explained that I needed to get some writing done. “What’s up?”

  “I have an idea about the Wade On Inn. You know, about the murders?”

  Candy sounded excited, but I confessed I hadn’t given the Wade On Inn much thought that morning. “I’ve been too preoccupied with the fascinating goings on in St. Celeste. Sarina Blyss’s luck is about to run out. Her altogether evil sister-in-law Agnes is now claiming ownership of the golden necklace.”

  “Huh?”

  “So Constable Klodfelder is going to arrest poor Sarina for thievery. Of her own jewelry!”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m still working out the details,” I admitted, and bless her heart, Candy told me it sounded interesting.

  “Kind of like Cinderella, but with an evil sister-in-law?”

  “Exactly. But what about the murders? You think you’ve actually figured it out?”

  “I do!”

  I glanced at the closed bathroom door and stood up to pace. “You are kidding?” I said. “What? Who?”

  “Well,” she began. “It occurred to me today when I was helping Mrs. Marachini. She’s one of my best customers, Jessie. She’s really rich, and she comes in almost every week and buys, like, tons of stuff. She likes things with polka dots, especially red polka dots. I always save her sizes for her—“

  “Candy,” I interrupted before I learned the rich lady’s cup size. “Does Mrs. Marachini have an idea about the murders?”

  “Gosh, I don’t think so. But she’s always complaining about her no-good husband, Mr. Marachini. He wastes all her money. He gambles, just like Spencer.”

  The sound of Candy eating something reminded me it was almost time for lunch. I wandered over to the kitchen and started assembling a peanut butter sandwich.

  “I take it Mr. Marachini loses his wife’s money somewhere other than at the Wade On Inn?” I asked as I spread the Skippy.

  “Well, yeah,” she said. “But don’t you see?”

  “Not really.”

  “Like, duh! Wilson says Spencer’s been losing his rich wife’s money, right? So maybe he got mad at Fritz and Angela. You know, since he lost so much money to them? Or—” she waited for me to fill in the blank.

  “Or.” I did my best to think like Candy Poppe. “Or maybe Spencer’s wife did it?”

  “Exactly!” Candy shouted, and I almost dropped the jelly. “Since she was mad about the money. It makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”

  I squinted at Snowflake. “Umm,” I said. “I appreciate you thinking about this. But Dixie Erring hasn’t even been to the Wade On Inn, has she? How would she know who Angela and Fritz were?”

  “I bet she was mad enough to kill anyone she saw coming out of the bar.” Candy sounded quite confident. “I bet she was waiting in the parking lot for them.”

  “Is she likely to continue on this killing spree?” I asked doubtfully. “I mean, why stop with those two, since Spencer’s still gambling?”

  Candy hesitated. “Gosh, I guess I didn’t think of that.”

  “And now that he’s losing money to me, am I in danger?”

  “Gosh.” She hesitated some more. “I sure hope not.”

  I told her not to be too alarmed. “We’ll mention your ideas to Wilson tonight,” I said as I sliced my sandwich. “I’m sure he’ll be interested.”

  “What are you wearing tonight, Jessie?” I could almost hear Candy bounce over the phone. “Can I help with your makeup again?”

  I agreed that was an excellent plan and reminded her to bring her jewelry, too. We hung up, and I looked at Snowflake.

  “I am one brave woman,” I told her. Ian emerged from my bathroom. “Very brave,” I corrected myself.

  Ian strolled over to the kitchen and curled his lip at the sandwich poised on the counter. “I see you’ve finally learned how to cook.”

  I blinked twice at his wet hair and ordered him to sit down and eat. “I just thought of another chore for you,” I said.

  And for this one, he would need his energy.

  ***

  Dear Karen. She called just as Ian took his first bite. Perfect timing, since I needed a few minutes to decide how best to present his new task to him. Or more accurately, I needed a moment to think of a good lie.

  “What’s up?” I asked her as I poured Ian a glass of water.

  “It’s Bobby Decker, Jess.”

  “Oh?” I slid the glass across the counter.

  “He and his family have too much history with the place,” Karen continued. “It can’t be just a coincidence that his ancestors used to own the Wade On Inn and half of Belcher Drive.”

  “Maybe?” I said.

  “I’m thinking the good old boy routine is an act—Bobby’s tougher than he lets on. Did you notice the chipped tooth? I bet he got that in a fight.”

  “Did he tell you that?” I noticed Ian studying me and turned my back to him.

  “Bobby was sleeping with Angela Hernandez,” Karen added.

  “We’re not sure about that,” I reminded her.

  “Yeah, but either way, I bet she had something on him. Something he didn’t want other people to know.”

  “But what about—” I was going to say motive, but remembered the audience behind me, and cleared my throat. “What would his reason be for the other,” I hesitated, “incident.”

  “For Fritz Lupo?” Karen thought a moment. “I don’t know yet, but I bet we’ll think of something. And Bobby found the bodies, right?”

  “Yes,” I said slowly.

  “That’s evidence against him right there. Remember what happened to you when Stanley died on your couch?”

  “Don’t remind me,” I mumbled.

  “Wilson almost arrested you,” she reminded me. “Bobby must not have known cops are automatically suspicious of people who find bodies. I bet he thought he was throwing them off track. He planned it.”

  Ian asked for another sandwich. For a guy who has always insulted my inept cooking, he certainly was relishing his PB and J.

  I got out some more bread and considered Bobby Decker. How could he have anticipated the bodies of Angela and Fritz floating downstream and landing precisely on his own property? It seemed rather unlikely.

  I put the knife down and stared at my ex.

  “Jess?” Karen asked. “Are you still there?”

  I snapped out of it. “I’m preoccupied with An Everlasting Encounter right now,” I lied. “But I’ll keep your ideas in mind, okay? We can talk this evening.”

  “Let’s just hope my feet hold up for another round of dancing. So, Jess.” Karen shifted her tone of voice. “Did you and Wilson kiss and make up last night?”

  “Everything’s fine,” I said firmly.

  “So you did kiss and make up?”

  I told her she was giving me a headache.

  “Candy’s the one who does that,” she said and hung up.

  ***

  “And you,” I muttered to Ian.

  “And me what?” he asked between bites.

  “You give me headaches, but you’ll make it up to me this afternoon.” I winked at Snowflake, who was keeping her distance over on the windowsill. “I have an errand for you out at the Wade On Inn.”

  Ian choked.

  “I’m working on a scene, you see.”

  “No,” he squeaked. “I don’t see.” He gestured for more water, and I refilled his glass.

  “This scene involves waterfalls, and I’m picturing the ones at Shinkle Creek.” I tapped my chin and scowled up at the skylight—Adelé Nightingale pre
tending to contemplate this supposed scene. “I want my description to be accurate, of course, so I need you to take some photographs.”

  Ian put down his sandwich.

  “I’ll want quite a few shots, from as many different angles as you can manage without falling in,” I continued. “Especially of those largest falls near the edge of the parking lot. While you’re at it, take a few pictures of the parking lot itself, okay? I’ll want to get the perspective just right—”

  “Are you crazy?” Ian interrupted. “Since when are your books based on accuracy? And what kind of idiot do you think I am? Risking my ass to get you some stupid pictures? Do you know what’s happened out there? Someone’s likely to shoot me just for the fun of it.”

  “A girl can hope,” I mumbled, but then I noticed the sincere look of panic in Ian’s beady little eyes.

  I took a deep breath and gave him a pep talk, claiming no one would likely be hanging around there mid-afternoon. “Hopefully you can take your pictures and get away unnoticed.”

  “Why the hell can’t you do this yourself?” he asked.

  Okay, good question.

  “Umm,” I stalled. “I’m working on a deadline.” That sounded plausible, so I kept going. “I need to get An Everlasting Encounter done by next week or my publisher will kill me. I simply don’t have time for traipsing out to the Wade On Inn this afternoon.”

  “Oh, and I do?”

  I tilted my head. “Business has picked up that much since yesterday, has it? It is the weekend, Ian.”

  He groaned and asked why he should do me this huge favor.

  “Because you want to use my shower facilities.”

  “That’s blackmail, Jessie.”

  “No, it’s bargaining.” I considered the bargain. “And to make the deal a little fairer, I’ll make you lunch again tomorrow. That is, if you do this favor for me today.”

  Ian looked at his empty sandwich plate. “BLT’s,” he grumbled, and I actually smiled. Bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches for lunch might be the only thing my ex and I could still agree on.

  “Deal,” I said.

  “I want that apple-smoked bacon from Wellington’s,” he said, and this time I was the one who almost choked.

  “Bacon from Wellington Market it is.”

  He squinted at me, considering the offer. “What am I supposed to tell anyone who sees me taking pictures out there? You know, before they shoot me?”