by Emmy Grace
“You’re gonna smell like a farm for church.”
“You don’t stink, do you, Gumbo? No, you don’t. Tell her you get a bath twice a week. That’s twice more than her last boyfriend.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“If you even try to defend that cur David, I will stuff you in my freezer and never let you out.”
“He showered. You’re just being dramatic.”
“He was dirty on the inside, Regina,” I say, tapping my chest dramatically. “Dirty on the inside.”
She grabs my arm and tugs me toward the door. “Come on, Daytime Emmy. We’re gonna be late.”
I wave to Gumbo as she drags me out the door. Just as we’re stepping onto my tiny front porch, Mrs. Stephanopoulos is firing up her engine. I hear the squeal of the ancient window rolling down.
“Get in, girls. Don’t want to be late.”
Regina and I look at each other. It’ll probably take us twice as long to get there with Mrs. S. driving, but neither of us wants to hurt her feelings. Or make her mad. She scares both of us just a teensy bit.
I hop into the front passenger seat, Regina into the back right behind me. Mrs. Stephanopoulos grips the gearshift and pulls it down into drive then eases her foot off the brake. We creep forward for several feet before she barely depresses the gas pedal. I glance out the window. “I think I just saw a turtle go by.”
I didn’t really mean to say that out loud; I wouldn’t want to insult my landlady. It just sort of slipped out.
Regina sniggers from behind me.
Mrs. S., on the other hand…
“We get one around here every now and again.” She turns toward me, her face puckered in distaste. “You’re not wanting to adopt one o’ them, too, are you?”
I grin and shake my head. “Not right now, but maybe later.”
Regina bumps the back of my seat. I mutter a preemptive shush back at her.
“Have you made up your mind about the gun range?”
“No, but I will.”
“Tomorrow evening. We’re going.”
I widen my eyes and slide Regina that Tootie look that says I’m in trouble, make that a double.
She makes a silent laughing face. She has no sympathy for the things I somehow manage to get myself into.
Church is already in progress by the time we arrive, which means we are forced to sit on the back row. Those who get to church early get to claim the front seats. That usually consists of the older folks who sleep like ten minutes per night. The middle rows are for what I call the normal folks—people closer to fifty than two hundred, and families with small children. They aren’t late, but they aren’t early.
The last few rows, however, are similar to the detention of the sanctuary. They’re reserved for those who are late, grudging churchgoers, or those too sinful to sit in the closer rows.
That’s where we find Liam Dunning.
I’ve never seen him at church, and this is probably why.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper as I squeeze past him to sit farther down the pew.
“Learning to knit. What else would I be doing in church?”
If our sarcasm could have offspring, the world would implode from the sting of it.
“Should I take shelter? Will the ceiling be caving in any minute now?” I cover my head for good measure.
“Scoot down some. I don’t want to get burned when the lightning strike comes,” he rebuts.
I make a face at him and scoot closer until I’m pressed against his right side. “Better?”
He shakes his head and pulls the tail of his jacket out from under my butt. I’m so close I’m literally sitting on his clothes.
He’s looking straight ahead, completely ignoring me. Or pretending to. But I know better. He’s as aware of me as I am of him.
I try to control my grin. Liam Dunning is just too much fun to tease. I can’t seem to help myself.
After a few minutes, I shimmy away from him so at least there’s airflow between us. I guess he was just going to sit there and take it.
Without turning to me, Liam whispers from the corner of his mouth, “Talked to Petey early this morning.”
“And?”
“Her phone still hasn’t been recovered, which is strange, so there’s that. And the M.E. came during the night. Time of death was between ten and midnight.”
“No big surprise there.”
“No. I asked him about the statements he took. He did a good job when he cleared the room of taking down everyone’s statements and getting their contact information without tipping them off as to why. He said there was a break-in and he was following up.”
I nod in appreciation. “Nice.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too excited. He did the same basic thing with the actor and the owner. We’ll need to go interview them ourselves.”
“I would’ve wanted to anyway. I figured you’d feel the same way.”
At that, he gives me side eye. “Are we agreeing on something?”
“If I say yes, does that mean the world is coming to an end?”
“Probably. Let’s find something to argue about.”
“That tie doesn’t go with your pants.”
He turns to face me fully, his thunderclouds storming back into place. “I’ll have you know that this was picked out by the attendant at—”
I laugh soundlessly, slapping his arm. “You really shouldn’t be such an easy target.”
That settles him down some. “Meet after lunch? That way I can go change so that I don’t offend the people of Salty Springs with my tie.”
“That might be best.”
With a huff, he faces the pulpit again. “Be by around one.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
From two spaces down, Mrs. Stephanopoulos leans forward and hisses down the row at me, “Maybe you should have him show you how to use a gun since you’re together all the time.”
In my peripheral vision, I see Liam’s head whip in my direction. I don’t even look over at him when I say, “Don’t even think about it.”
7
I feel like taking cover as Mrs. Stephanopoulos flips her gun around her finger like Annie Oakley and then expertly stuffs it into the holster at her hip. When we got back from church, she was determined to at least come and give me a gun safety lesson before Liam arrived.
So far, I’m terrified.
Not of guns, though.
Of Mrs. Snuffleupagus.
My landlady obviously has quite a bit of experience with firearms. I’m not quite sure what to make of it. It’s impressive, but she’s also old as dirt, and I feel like I’m on the verge of getting shot every time she brings it back out.
She pulls it out of the holster again and holds it up for me to see. “I don’t have to worry as much about the trigger on this one. It’s double-action, which means you have to pull pretty hard to get it to fire. Not to mention, it’s not loaded. See?”
She pops the little round thing open and angles it so I can see six empty holes. That must be what a six shooter is. I’ve always wondered.
“Some of them have a hammer, which is a little piece right here that you have to pull back in order to make it fire. I’ll loan you whatever type you’re comfortable with. I have all kinds.”
“I appreciate it, Mrs. S., but until I get a lot more familiar with gun guns, I think I’ll just stick with the stun gun.”
She gives a bark of coarse laughter. “Heard about what happened. You sure you’re safe with that?”
I blame Suzie Lynn for letting that cat out of the bag. The bad thing about her being a great source of information is that her tongue is loose at both ends. I’ll have to make sure never to let her in on anything sensitive.
“I know better than to hold it like that now.”
Mrs. S. narrows her sharp eyes on me and starts nodding slowly. “You may be right. Probably better for you to master that before you move on to the real thing.”
“Probably so.” I’m s
ure there’s an insult in there somewhere, but I don’t even care. I just want her to stop slinging that pistol around.
The crunch of tire on gravel provides me with an escape. Not a perfect escape, since I’ll only be trading one grouch for another, but at least Liam won’t be waving firearms around.
At least I hope not.
When I see his face through the windshield, I could swear he’s grinning, but before I can confirm it, his neutral expression falls down into place.
And by neutral, I mean vaguely grumpy and put-out rather than full-on GET OFF MY LAWN! mean.
I’m bidding my landlady adieu before Liam’s truck even comes to a stop. I yank open the passenger door and hurl myself toward the seat. Not the most graceful or effective. I still have to squirm like a big, fat seal to get up in it far enough to grab for the console, but I eventually get it and haul myself into an upright position.
“Drive.”
He shifts into reverse, waving at Mrs. S. as we pass. “Looks like someone’s taken you under her wing.”
“I’d like to opt out of the wing, please. As soon as possible.”
“It’s sort of a compliment. Mrs. Stephanopoulos doesn’t like many people.”
“Why on earth would she choose me then?”
“Beats me.” He shrugs, and I send him a withering look. “Stop shooting daggers at me. I was joking.”
“Mmmm hmmm. Sure you were.”
“I guess you’re not that bad.”
“This is making me feel so much better.”
I see the corners of his eyes crinkle for a split second, but as usual, it’s gone as quick as it came.
After a minute or two, Liam glances over at me, looking me up and down. “What? No gray teeth or defective limbs or second-degree chemical burns?”
He’s referring to some products I’ve tested previously and had…issues.
“I think Regina is taking pity on me since I zapped myself.”
“How does one even go about getting involved in the stuff that you get involved in?”
“Regina was offered a job with the company, and I was out of work at the time, so she gave me a job as one of the product testers. It’s been love ever since.”
“So you like burns and stained teeth and wearing glow-in-the-dark underwear?”
“Nothing like purple neon in a dark room to make a girl feel sexy.” I flutter my lashes and give him a coy smile.
“Why don’t you get her to send you things that might actually help you, like a helmet? Or grounding shoes? Or a brain?”
I curl up my lip and make a face at him, giving him my most sarcastic laugh. “Hahahaha, Liam, you’re so funny.”
He hikes up one big shoulder. “Just a suggestion.”
Now that I think of it, though, it’s not a bad one. I might have to talk to Regina about looking for products that might actually be useful to me. After all, I get to keep the product after I test it. Most things I end up throwing away or giving away. A few of them I’ve wanted to burn or stomp on, but it would be nice to have some handy things. Although the actual testing of the night vision goggles wasn’t a dream, having them on hand might not be a bad thing. I’m finding myself in more and more tricky situations with my hobby. Might as well have the tools I need to survive them all.
Liam pulls to a stop in front of the Spring Water Inn. All the slots are full except one. It’s in between two other cars.
And it’s a parallel spot.
“Maybe there’s something around back.”
“I’ll just park here.”
“Okay. If you say so.”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Because you’re never going to get this bus in there right.”
“I absolutely will.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Yes, I will. I’m a competent driver.”
“Competency has nothing to do with it. Parallel parking spaces are a lie of the devil, and I’m not falling for it ever again.”
“Bad driver, huh?”
“I didn’t say that. I just—”
“Watch and learn, grasshopper. Watch and learn.”
He proceeds to whip his gigantic truck into the sliver of space between the other two vehicles like a boss.
I hate him a little right now.
He sends me a look of pure masculine pride.
I give him the death stare.
“Show off,” I say as I open my door and nearly break my leg exiting his truck. This thing is just stupid tall. No one needs a vehicle like this.
The Spring Water Inn is a beautifully renovated historical home at the farthest end of Main Street. It has peaks and spires and gables galore. If it weren’t painted taupe with white trim and kept neat as a pen, it would make an excellent haunted house. I could easily see a crazed Victorian lady killing her entire family here and then enjoying a nice tea on the veranda.
When I walk in, there’s one man behind the long, walnut front desk. Behind his head is a wall of numbered cubbies that no doubt house room keys. It’s like someone transferred a movie set right here into Salty Springs, South Carolina.
He stands and smiles when I enter. He’s young, especially for Salty Springs. Probably mid-thirties with dirty blond hair that falls nearly to his collar and laughing brown eyes that scrunch up at the edges. He’s very handsome, and I can’t help wondering how Regina and I haven’t run into him yet.
“Welcome to the Spring Water Inn. How may I help you today?”
I approach the desk and his eyes gleam with attraction. “Hi, my name is Lucky Boucher, and I’m here to speak with—”
“Paul, she’s the one I told you about,” comes Liam’s voice from behind me.
To that, Paul grins and says, “Ah. I see. Do you want me to tell the gentlemen you’re on your way?” He grabs the black, corded phone from the desk. If this guy is aiming to give his clientele an authentic old-time B&B experience, he’s nailing it.
“No.” I stop him. “I think maybe a surprise visit is in order, don’t you?” I glance over my shoulder to where Liam is hovering like Charlie Brown’s dark cloud.
“I agree.” To Paul, he nods and gives a polite smile. “Thanks, Paul.”
“Not a problem, Liam. Let me know if I can help. They’re in rooms five and six.”
“Thanks.”
With his hand to my lower back, Liam nudges me forward toward the second half of a sweeping staircase. This set goes down.
“Five and six are downstairs?”
“Yep. They have the most privacy and there’s a separate entrance down there.”
“Interesting. Did the boys request them or…?”
“That’s what Paul said.”
Not entirely out of the question, considering both are used to paparazzi and raging fans and the like, but it’s ridiculous to think that would be a problem here in Salty Springs. There would be no reason, other than habit, I guess, for them to request such rooms.
Unless one of them has a need to come and go without being seen.
We arrive at room five first. Liam knocks his gruff, sharp rap, but nothing happens. On the other side of the door is silence.
He glances down at me. I glance up at him. A whole conversation is had.
He nods. I nod. And we move on to room six.
He repeats the process, only this time, after he knocks, there are voices and noises heard on the other side of the door.
Finally, Cruz answers. He looks annoyed until he sees me, then his expression shifts.
Men! They’re so easy. I can’t help thinking that if the lucky charm were on the other gender, women wouldn’t be quite so gullible.
But then again, look at Regina. And there isn’t even any supernatural lucky charm involved with the men she goes gaga over. That’s just nothing but hormones, plain and simple.
“Nice to see you again,” he says, nodding at me. “What can I do for you?”
I step forward, in front of Liam, and smile. “We have some questions for y
ou, if you don’t mind. You aren’t entertaining, are you? I poke my head around him and see that there is, in fact, someone else in his room. None other than Trenton Gibb.
“No, it’s just Trenton. You’re fine. Come in,” he says, stepping out of the way. “Please.”
Liam and I enter, and Cruz closes the door behind us. The room is probably normally a pretty one, with its deep cream curtains and matching duvet. There’s an exposed brick wall behind the poster bed, too, but at the moment, it looks like a cyclone hit this place and that really detracts from the appeal. There are clothes and shoes and papers and…stuff strewn everywhere.
The question is: where did it all come from? I’m baffled that a man would ever travel with this much crap.
“Excuse the mess,” he says, but I think it’s more an obligatory thing. There’s zero embarrassment on his face. “What can I do for you?”
“We just have a few questions,” I say again, trailing my hand over the top of the dresser as I move along the room. The men watch me with admiration as I shamelessly use my gift. Whatever the mechanism of delivery and whatever the reason, God gave me my lucky charm for a reason. Might as well use it.
I feel like a snake charmer, working her wiles on a cobra. And there’s probably a fifty-fifty chance that one of the men in this room is, in fact, a venomous creature.
Neither man seems put off by our arrival or the impending questions, which is good I guess, as far as seeming innocent.
“Let’s start with the basics,” Liam begins. “We need to know where you were from the time the show ended until the time Serena’s body was discovered.”
Trenton is the first to answer. “You saw where I was when you arrived, Ms. Boucher.”
“And you never left that room? Not for one minute?”
“I went to the bathroom. Right after the show was over. If you need a witness for that, I guess you’ll just have to arrest me, because I don’t have one.”
“I’m not a cop. I’m just looking into this as a favor to the mayor, remember?” I mean for my smile to put them both at ease. The more they think they have nothing to fear from me, the more likely they are to trip up if one of them is guilty. “What about you, Mr. DiSpirito?”
