by Valley Sams
“Is that what you shot them with, Cameron?” Mac blurted. Her voice shook, “That gun? This silencer?”
He scoffed, “Me? Oh good grief, no. I don’t get my hands dirty. You know that. We aren’t the murdering class.”
“Murdering class?” Mac would repeat everything he said if it would prolong her life.
Cameron nodded his head in Mark’s direction.
“Oh, come on, Catharine. You and I were raised the same way. You had all the same privileges I did. We don’t DO things. We don’t HAVE to do much of anything. We get others to do things for us, right, Mark?”
Mark, whose face had always been so blank and unresponsive, seemed transformed in the dark. His eyes were bright, but not with intelligence. To Mac he looked like a horrible child that had gotten away with something very big and very naughty.
“Always willing to help out the Dunleavys.”
“Specifically when there’s a few million involved.” Cameron held out his hand to Mac, beckoning her out of the flowerbed. “You’re getting your shoes all dirty, come out of there.”
Mac shook her head, her knees still barely capable of holding her up. How was she going to get out of this?
“No.” She said, “Cameron, you won’t get away with this.”
“You are so stupid.” Cameron said, as he reached forward and grabbed Mac by the arm, pulling her forcibly out of the garden and toward him.
“Of course I will! I’m sole heir of all of this. It all goes to me. No more yawning through Yale, trying to build some boring career for myself in some boring bank or brokerage house. You know what it’s like.”
Mac struggled against Cameron as Mark moved closer. In the corner of her eye she could see him raising his gun, checking the cylinder.
“And Mark. Well, baseball had lost its fun and every good billionaire philanthropist needs some muscle, am I right?”
Mark spun the cylinder dramatically, and glared at Cameron. “You mean partner, right, buddy?” He asked cautiously. “I get two million for the job and we’ll be partners.”
Cameron set his jaw, showing his teeth without good humor. Surprisingly strong, he spun Mac around to face Mark, one arm across her body so she was pinned to his chest. Mac could feel his heart beating through his shirt. He was excited and that frightened her even more.
“You see that dumb bastard?” Cameron whispered into Mac’s ear. His breath was hot against her skin. “Not a brain in his head. Not good enough at his little ball game to keep his scholarship. Inbred enough to kill. He’s perfect. Just the man to get the job done. All I had to do was promise him what he never had: money.”
Oblivious to Cameron’s confession, Mark approached Mac. Satisfied that his gun was ready, he pointed it at her, the same vacuous grin on his face. Cameron was right. The glint in his eye was cruelty. There wasn’t a brain in his head
“Should we play with her first?” Mark asked. He swaggered forward and placed the barrel of the gun between Mac’s collarbones. He began to drag the cold metal down her chest.
This was it. She had gone too far and this was how it was going to end: wannabe detective murdered in a flower garden by a childhood frenemy and his skid-row lackey.
“That, Mark…” Cameron said, using his free hand to push Mac’s hair out of her face so he could see it better. “Is probably the smartest idea you’ve ever had. However, I was hoping to save her all for myself.”
Mac was suddenly yanked to the side as Cameron pulled a gun from his belt. Still holding her tight against him, he dispassionately emptied three bullets into Mark.
Her ears ringing, Mac couldn’t even hear her own scream as she watched the man’s body flail and fall backwards into the yellow flowers. The panic that had been building in her finally burst forth and Mac began to writhe against Cameron, her heart roaring louder than the ocean in her ears.
Suddenly, she found herself falling forward away from Cameron’s bony body. She barely landed in the dirt when she had scrambled up to her feet. She turned to run and crashed blindly back into what she thought was Cameron’s arms.
“Stop. Stop. Stop.” It was Brie. Her lovely Brie, holding her tight. “Calm down.”
She heard another voice and turned to see Louis pinning Cameron to the ground with one knee as he read him his rights. He deftly cuffed Cameron with one hand while the other held his dark head into the equally dark earth—perhaps a little harder than necessary.
“As soon as you went around the house, I saw the door open. Oh, Mac, don’t do this anymore. You could’ve died.” Tears were streaming down Brie’s face as she held Mac’s trembling body to hers.
“I found it.” Mac managed. She held up the shredded silencer. “It looks just like you said it would.”
“Yes! I knew it!” Despite herself, Brie let out a cry of triumph.
Louis stood up, flashing lights illuminating his figure as at least three squad cars roared down the gravel path toward the house. He walked toward Mac, his face etched with concern.
“You.” he said. “I don’t know whether to arrest you or give you a job.”
“Yellow threads and steel wool.” Mac announced weakly. She pressed the silencer into Louis’s hands. “Brie figured it out. I’m sorry but… but, we did it. He told me everything.” Mac was surprised at the tears welling up in her eyes. Those tears she thought had dried up for good streamed down her cheeks as her chest hitched with sobs. It felt good—warm, heavy relief welling up from inside of her. Someone had finally taken the blanket off her cage.
Louis took Mac’s tearstained face in his hands, and wiped the wetness from her cheeks with his thumbs. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” he asked.
Mac shook her head numbly. Her entire body was shaking now, tears falling effortlessly from her. Louis sighed and pulled her toward him, wrapping her under his jacket to warm her.
“You girls really need to stick to the chocolate business.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
The chocolate lab smelled lush—pungently beautiful like an exotic flower, sensual like an unexpected caress, richer than the deepest, blackest cup of coffee.
Sabrina, its mastermind, hovered over the table, her elaborate tiara catching the light from the bare bulbs of her laboratory.
Her face radiant with pride, she hoisted a Mason jar full of red wine, and toasted, “Ladies and gentleman.” Mac and Louis’s tipsy chatter hushed. The sound of the jazz album from Brie’s old turntable became audible for the first time that evening. “In celebration of our great adventure…” Louis put down his Mason jar and peered over his glasses at Sabrina. If he hadn’t been wearing a similarly ridiculous hat, he would’ve been quite intimidating.
“Final adventure.” He said
“No argument there.” Brie agreed. “FINAL adventure.” She shot a look at Mac who returned it in kind, hiding her smile behind a sip. Brie cleared her throat, “I have, in my infinite brilliance, created a chocolate—not to be released to the public—of the utmost quality and deliciosity.”
Mac laughed. “Deliciousness? Is that what you mean?”
“Fine, deliciousness.” Brie scowled at her friend. “May I present to you…” She pulled the piece of lace off a small plate in the center of the table. Three brilliantly glossy chocolates rested on the china: small but beautifully shaped with deep red loops of color throughout their smooth shells.
Despite herself, Mac gasped. She was always awed at her friend’s skills, no matter how many times she saw the delicious creations.
“What is it?” Louis said, reaching for one of the delicacies.
Brie slapped his hand. “I’m not telling you the name until you taste it.” She said. “And we all have to do it at once.”
“It’s tradition.” Mac murmured to Louis. “She names all of them.”
Brie presented her friends with the plate and there was a moment of silence as they all bit into her creation. Their groans of pleasure shattered the silence.
“Is that smoke?” Mac said, her eyes
glassy with pleasure.
Brie nodded. “Smoked butter caramel.”
“And whisky, yeah?” Louis said, equally amazed. “Just a hint.”
Sabrina glowed with pride. “Well done, detective,” she said.
“What’s are you going to call it?” Mac asked through her last mouthful.
“Mac and Stocker’s stolen kiss.” she responded cheekily.
Mac froze, unaware that a line of caramel had dripped onto her pointed chin. Brie burst into laughter.
“You told her that?” Louis said, leaning back, an amused look on his face. “The kiss that never happened, mind you.”
“Smoke for what caused the puke on the beach, remember? Whisky for the Thirsty Pelican?”
“I can’t believe…” Mac was about to launch into a tirade when she was interrupted.
“All right.” Louis announced, audibly taking a breath. “Something I should’ve done from the very beginning.” He pulled his chair closer to Mac and reached under to pull her chair to face his.
“What are you doing?” Mac asked, her crooked little smile growing wider.
“You’ve got something here,” he said and turned her face up to his by her caramel-speckled chin. Breathless, Brie watched as the detective leaned down and softly kissed her best friend.
“Okay. Moment passed.” Brie said as the kiss began to deepen, “Can we get back to the chocolate? Okay? A bit of crime? How about murder? Another one of those? How does that sound?”
