Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  “Okay?” he sounded puzzled, and more than a little surprised. Which only made her more angry, because how he should be sounding was wildly appreciative. “Well, that’s great. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She paused, before continuing, as casually as she could, “So, are you ready to head back now?”

  He looked perplexed, but didn’t respond, so she spelled it out for him. “Do you just want to drop me back off at my store now, and take the van? Or was there something else you needed?”

  “Okay, am I missing something, here?” he asked at last. “Because I thought we were on our way to lunch.

  “Yes, but since you only asked me to lunch because you wanted a favor, I figured... well, you know.” She shrugged, not bothering to complete the sentence.

  “You figured that now that you’ve agreed to the favor, I have no reason to actually eat with you?” She could feel the anger that flared surged through him; a cold wave that made her shiver. “One has nothing to do with the other.”

  “Don’t they?”

  “No. They do not,” he answered, his eyes sparking danger. “And if that’s really what you think, why’d you agree to have lunch with me in the first place?”

  “Look, I thought you made it pretty clear last night that you weren’t interested in getting involved with me. I believe, not that desperate, was the phrase you used? And frankly, I really wasn’t expecting to see you again.” She knew she wasn’t answering his question, but she didn’t care. He had some nerve questioning her motives when his own were so murky.

  “I don’t think I made anything clear last night,” he said, a little ruefully. “Certainly not if that’s the impression you got. I admit I was a bit upset—”

  A bit? “Ha.”

  “And I can’t really explain what that was about,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “But I meant what I said this morning, I want a chance to make it up to you. To start over.”

  She wanted to believe him, she just wasn’t sure she did. “I don’t know, Sam, that still sounds kinda desperate to me.”

  “You know, I had figured you for an intelligent woman.” He ground the words out from between clenched teeth. “But right now, I’m re-thinking my position on the subject.”

  “Why’s that? Because you’re trying to manipulate me and I’m giving you a hard time?”

  “No, because you think I’m trying to manipulate you, and yet you came to lunch with me anyway. And now you’ve agreed to lend me your van, as well.”

  “Oh.” That surprised her. He had her there, all right. She could feel a slow blush crawl up her cheeks. “You’re right. That doesn’t sound too bright, does it?”

  “If you ask me, it sounds unbelievably dumb.” He turned to take a look at the back of the van, then leaned toward her, bracing one hand on the back of her seat. “Plus, you don’t know me from Adam, and yet here you are, making all these unflattering references to how desperate I must be, while we’re all alone on an isolated stretch of highway. And no more than five feet away from a very serviceable looking mattress.”

  She bit her lip, and shot him an amused glance. “So, you think I should be worried, huh?”

  “Maybe you should be,” he told her as his eyes assessed her. “But the thing is, you’re not. So, since you obviously trust me more than you’re pretending to, why don’t you just give me a break?”

  He was right. She did trust him, although she knew of no reason she should. The knowledge was strangely comforting.

  “Hmph.” Her smile widened as she eased the van into the Buena Vista parking lot. Sometimes life was just one surprise after another. “Maybe I trust you,” she couldn’t help teasing. “Or maybe I just know something you don’t.”

  He leaned back in his seat. “Lady, my blood runs cold just thinking about that. Like what, by the way?”

  She pulled the van to a halt and set the brake. “Well, unlike some other places you might be used to, Sam, here in Oberon there usually is a cop around when you need one.” She pointed to the car parked next to them. “That’s Nick’s car.”

  He started at that, then frowned. “You knew he’d be here? Is that why you chose this place?”

  “Nope. I had no clue. It’s just dumb luck.” Or maybe Fate.

  She watched as he digested that for a few minutes, in silence.

  He smiled faintly. “Well, if it’s any consolation. I didn’t really think you were all that dumb.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled back at him. “And I didn’t really figure you were all that desperate, either.”

  He nodded. “So, where does that leave us?”

  “Hungry,” she answered as they got out of the van. “You did say you wanted lunch, didn’t you?”

  “That was the general plan.” He followed her across the parking lot. “I just hadn’t realized what you’d have me eating.”

  She turned to look at him questioningly.

  He smiled wryly, and gestured at the birds that swooped over the cliffs. “Crow.”

  “Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t do that to a fellow vegetarian.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. I guess I should be grateful for small favors, huh?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she murmured as they stepped inside the diner. “And larger ones in proportion. Which reminds me. The van? It’s pretty large, Sam.”

  “Yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  * * *

  Nick sipped his coffee as he studied the photos arrayed in front of him. Beside him the jukebox played quietly, until some idiot selected an early Rod Stewart song, and he switched the damn thing off. The last thing this case needed was a soundtrack.

  Sure, he’d like to find a reason to believe there was another explanation for what he was seeing. And if he thought about it long enough, he knew he could find a way to make himself believe it was all a mistake. But he was trying real hard to toe the line between objective fact and wishful thinking.

  He put down his cup and drummed his fingers on the Formica tabletop as he stared at the contents of the file. On the surface the photographs seemed innocent enough. There were no seedy motels to be seen. No impossible-to-misconstrue romantic clinches. No obviously clandestine meetings. As blackmail photos, they would be almost totally useless. And as evidence – well, evidence of what, exactly?

  “Shit, Paige, what the fuck were you up to? And surveillance reports, too?” Goddamn, the woman was obsessed!

  Wouldn’t it be nice, if that was all this was? The temptation to write the whole thing off as just some weird and isolated mental aberration on Paige’s part would have been nearly overwhelming, if that were all the file contained. But what was left in the folder was not so easy to explain away.

  “Hey, Nick. How’s it going?”

  Nick looked up to see Marsha approaching with Sam in tow. He had just enough time to slip the folder back into the file box on the seat beside him before she was sliding into the bench on the opposite side of the booth.

  “I got something for you,” she said.

  He had to sympathize with the wary, uneasy look on Sam’s face as he took the seat next to her. The woman looked too pleased with herself to be up to any good at all.

  “Yeah? What’s that?” he asked as noncommittally as he could. And he wasn’t surprised when her grin grew wider.

  “You still need someone to help you get into Paige’s computer, right?” Her eyes twinkled as she nodded at Sam. “I think Sam’s your man. He knows all about computers.”

  Sam looked horrified. “Whoa! Hold on a minute, I never said that!”

  Marsha turned her smile on him. “Hey, there had to be some reason I suddenly got the urge to come out here today. You think it was coincidence that you both happened to mention computers to me within the same twenty-four hours, and now we all end up here together? C’mon, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  Nick sighed. “I think things like that are only obvious to you Marsha.” He looked at Sam. “Do you know anything about hacking into someone�
��s computer without their password?”

  Sam shot a rueful glance at Marsha. “Why do I feel like I’m incriminating myself if I say yes? Yeah, I could probably do it for you. It might take some time, though.”

  “What do you think you’ll find on her computer, anyway?” Marsha wanted to know.

  “Who knows?” Nick shrugged. He finished his coffee and pushed the cup aside. “But I’m telling you, she kept everything on that machine. Appointments, notes, phone numbers, story ideas, her journal. At the very least, it should give us a better idea what she’d been working on, or if she’d been planning to meet with anyone that day.”

  “You think she was killed because of some story she was researching?” Marsha sounded surprised at the idea, and Nick couldn’t help wondering if she’d like some of his other ideas any better. He even briefly considered showing her the file, maybe she could get some sense of what Paige had been thinking. But he wasn’t ready to share that yet, and definitely not with Sam sitting here.

  “It’s certainly one possibility,” he told her as he got up to leave. “So, Sam. If you’re game to give it a try, why don’t you stop by the station later this afternoon and I’ll show you what we’ve got?”

  “What?” Sam reeled in his wandering thoughts with difficulty. “Oh, right. Yeah, I’ll do that. Glad to help.”

  “Right,” Nick said. “Well, see you later, then.”

  “Oh, and Nick?” Marsha sounded slightly self-conscious, and Sam was surprised to see that she was blushing again. “You think maybe you could not mention it to Scout that you saw me here today? She’s already getting certain... ideas... about things. I’d rather not give her any more to work with.”

  “Ideas, huh?” Nick looked amused as his glanced shifted to Sam and back again to Marsha. “All right. You’re keeping our secret, after all. I guess I can return the favor.”

  Sam watched him walk over to the cashier’s counter before he turned to Marsha. “So you still gonna tell me you’re not embarrassed?” he asked, but he smiled as he said it.

  “Hmm?” she responded vaguely, not meeting his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  He watched in amusement as she fiddled with the tabletop jukebox until she’d restored the volume on it. And then as she transferred her attention to her menu, studying it with every appearance of interest, although he was willing to bet big money she already knew exactly what she wanted to eat.

  With anyone else, he’d definitely have been annoyed, as well as insulted. But it was hard to be angry with someone who was so clearly determined to save you from dangers you didn’t even know existed.

  Appointment books. Phone numbers. Story ideas. A journal.

  Damn right, he wanted the chance to take first crack at that computer. When he broke it, he’d see where a little creative editing of files might be in order. He’d been way off base these last few days, thinking of Marsha as a witch – even a good witch. He recognized her now for what she truly was. His very own guardian angel. In the very desirable flesh. And after just a few days in Oberon, he wasn’t even slightly surprised to recognize the song currently playing on the jukebox. The Cowboy Junkies were singing Angel Mine. And didn’t that figure?

  * * *

  “Look, will you give it a rest already?” Lucy paused in the act of spearing another forkful of artichoke tortellini to glare at Scout. “It’s not the end of the world, you know. You and Siobhan will both live.”

  “That’s not the point,” Scout snapped as she dipped a French fried sweet potato into aioli sauce. “It’s just so frustrating to have things like this happen every time I open my mouth.”

  “Jeez. And Marsha says I overreact.” Lucy shook her head. “It’s not every time, and you know it.”

  “It’s often enough.” Scout stared moodily at the scene around them. The Red Rooster Grill was one of many sidewalk cafes that had sprung up in Oberon during her absence. When she’d left Oberon all those years ago, this building had housed a bank. Now, in the very place where she had opened her first savings account, she was eating faux-French vegetarian cuisine. She and Lucy had spent most of the morning shopping on Main Street, searching with no luck for a dress for her wedding.

  Shopping on Main Street was an activity she also remembered well from her teenage years. Although the burgers she’d eaten then had actually contained some small amount of actual beef.

  Lucy shook her head. “What can I tell you, Scout? You skip town for twenty years, you gotta expect to miss a few of the dramas.”

  “I guess,” Scout sighed as she took another bite of her veggie burger. She didn’t really care what was in it, as long as it tasted good. And right now she was so hungry that even taste might be optional. “Okay, so tell me. What did happen with Siobhan and Bob? She can’t still be upset about his breaking off their engagement, can she?”

  “No, it’s got nothing to do with that.” Lucy shrugged. “I mean, you remember what happened with that, right?”

  “Not really,” Scout smiled. “All I remember was how, for the longest time, he couldn’t seem to decide which of the twins he was interested in.”

  “Yeah, that was lovely, wasn’t it?” Lucy took a bite of the pasta before she continued. “Personally, I always thought the main reason he ended up with Siobhan was because Sinead got bored with the game and blew him off, but who really knows? Anyway, just about the time he and Siobhan were thinking about getting married, he discovered religion. He insisted it was too important a matter to decide on their own, and they should pray on the question.”

  Scout groaned. “Oh, that’s right. Now I remember. Didn’t they just open the Bible at random or something?

  “Uh-huh. I don’t know what they opened it to, but whatever it was, it wasn’t encouraging. So the next thing you know, Bob’s headed off to the seminary and Siobhan’s on her way to La Jolla to study marine biology.”

  “So? What happened next?”

  “Well, Siobhan got married, and settled down somewhere near San Diego,” Lucy grimaced. “Until her husband and their two little girls were killed in some sort of boating accident, and she moved back here. She and Bob got involved in some kind of grief counseling, I think Marsha may have set it up.”

  Scout smiled. “I’m guessing it didn’t go too well?”

  Lucy nodded and speared another tortellini. “I don’t know the details, but the next thing anyone knew he’s walking around looking slightly pole-axed and she’s refusing to speak to him. And, as you saw this morning, mention his name anywhere near her, and you’d better be prepared to duck. My guess is he tried to put the moves on her and she freaked.”

  “Oh, come on.” Scout looked at her in disbelief. “He wouldn’t... would he?”

  Lucy shrugged. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “Jeez.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes. Finally Scout asked, “Now tell me what happened with you and Paige? That sounds like an even better story.”

  “Not really,” Lucy answered dryly. “It was always kind of like love-at-first-sight in reverse. The moment I met her I knew I hated her guts. According to Marsha, she felt the same way about me. I tell you, when she and Nick started dating I thought I was gonna lose my mind, for sure. Especially when it started to look like they were maybe getting serious. You can’t imagine. It was like my worst nightmare coming true.”

  “Yeah, well, it probably would’ve been mine too,” Scout said, pushing her plate away, her appetite gone.

  “Oh, shit.” Lucy stared at her in dismay. “I’m sorry, I guess you really didn’t need to hear about that huh? They weren’t ever that serious, you know.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Scout shook her head. “I just get the feeling sometimes that I’ll never get up to speed with everything that went on while I was away. There will always be gaps and, I’ll always end up saying or doing the wrong thing because of them.”

  “I guess that’s true,” Lucy sighed. After a minute or so, a small smile cr
ept across her face. “But what’s your point? I haven’t gone anywhere for twenty years, and I still manage to put my foot in my mouth every once in a while. So what are you worried about?”

  Scout thought about that for a moment and then smiled as well. “I gotta hand it to you, Luce. You do have a hell of a way of getting a point across.”

  “Thanks,” Lucy nodded. “I do try.”

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Eighteen

  * * * *

  “Hey, who’s the extra place for?” Jesse wanted to know. Marsha looked up from the salad she was fixing to find both boys regarding her curiously. She had set the round kitchen table for four tonight, her mind so preoccupied with other thoughts, she’d hardly noticed what she was doing.

  She stared at it now in bemusement, as though she were seeing it through her sons’ eyes.

  A runner made of a cheerful Guatemalan striped fabric, mostly fuscia, yellow and turquoise was laid across the center, and her wrought-iron moon and star candlestick holders, a birthday present from Celeste which usually stood on her altar, were set on either side of a vase of sunflowers.

  What had she been thinking? It was hard to believe she’d gone to that much work just to impress Sam – she’d actually bothered to find four matching plates and she’d dug up matching silverware as well. Obviously, she didn’t know herself as well as she thought she did.

  “A friend of mine is joining us for dinner,” she said, trying for that tone of finality that had served her so well when the boys were younger.

  But either she was out of practice, or the boys were too grown up to fall for it anymore. “Oh, yeah? Who?” Frank pressed, crunching on one of the carrots she’d planned to grate into the salad. Oh well, she guessed the salad had enough color already.

  Marsha sighed. “No one you guys know. Someone I met over the weekend. Actually, he’s going to be renting the cabin for a few weeks.”