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

by P. G. Forte

  His silence hummed through the phone lines. “Are you still very angry with me?” he asked quietly at last.

  “Angry?” His question startled a bark of laughter from her. She forced a measure of calm back into her voice. “No, Sam. I’m certainly not angry with you.”

  “Oh.” She heard the confusion in his voice. “Are you sure? I mean—”

  “I’m sure. Is that all you called about?”

  “No. No, I called to... well, because... listen, you weren’t planning any ceremonies out here, or anything in the next week or so, were you?”

  “No,” she answered in puzzled surprise. “Not until the next full moon, anyway.”

  “Good.” The relief in his voice was as obvious as it had been the night before. “Because I don’t want you coming out here this week, while I’m away.”

  She inhaled sharply, as his words struck her unprepared. Well, that had worked fast, hadn’t it? Whatever influences he might have been under, he was obviously under them no longer.

  “No, Sam, of course not,” she answered as evenly as she could, despite the sensation that her lungs were being pumped slowly full of ice water. “I mean, you’re all paid up until the end of October, after all. I wouldn’t dream of imposing on your privacy.”

  “My what?” He sounded startled. “Are you feeling okay tonight, angel?”

  “Yes, of course I am.” No, no, no!

  “You’re sure? Because—”

  “I said I’m fine,” she ground out between locked teeth.

  “Well... all right, if you say so. Anyway, the thing is, I saw a bear out here tonight. And, I don’t know how you stand with the Bear Deva, but I do know I’ll sleep a whole lot better while I’m gone if I’m not worrying about you coming out here and maybe getting yourself mauled, or something. You know what I mean?”

  “A bear?” Marsha pulled the phone away from her and stared at it in consternation before placing it back to her ear. Was he out of his mind? “Did you just say you saw a bear?”

  “Yeah. A great big sucker, too. The thing was the size of... of, hell I don’t know, a picnic table, or something.”

  Picnic tables? They were back to those again? Marsha groaned as she felt a headache begin to pulse in her temples. A bear. Shit, he really was in recovery from the weekend, wasn’t he? Either that, or he was hiding some-thing he didn’t want her stumbling across, she thought bitterly. What other reason could there be for making up such a pitiful story?

  “Sam, I don’t know what you think you saw out there tonight, but trust me, there are no bears around Oberon.”

  “Yeah? Well, trust me, angel. Maybe there weren’t any before, but there are now.”

  “Sam—”

  “I saw a bear, Marsha. Now please, just promise me you won’t come out here while I’m gone.”

  “Huh. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  “Marsha—”

  “I promise. Okay?”

  “Okay. Good. Now listen, I—”

  “I have to go,” she interrupted, not certain she could keep her composure much longer. “Have a good trip.”

  “Thanks, but—”

  “And…take care of yourself.”

  “Marsha, wait, I—” He stopped, and she could feel him struggling with himself.

  “Yes?”

  “Nothing. Never mind.” He sighed, heavily. “You take care, too.”

  Marsha hung up the phone and got to her feet, too furious and disappointed to sit still any longer. A bear. Well, if that wasn’t the most ridiculous load of bullshit she had ever been handed in her life, she didn’t know what was!

  She opened her hand, and looked down at the little soapstone figurine she was still holding. This was just about the only bear anyone was ever likely to see in Oberon, she thought. This and maybe a couple dozen teddy bears. Certainly nothing the size of – shit, just what was the deal with him and those friggin’ picnic tables, anyway?

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  * * * *

  Begin as you mean to go on. The phrase had been running in Marsha’s head since she’d first woken up. She wasn’t sure what it pertained to yet, or where it had come from; but it was a pretty grim thought to begin the week with. Because things were shaping up badly already.

  “But why can’t I drive?” Jesse’s customary nagging had taken on an especially whiny tone this morning, Marsha thought. Either that, or she was just in an especially lousy mood. A lousy mood which was not improved at all by his response, when she snapped at him to stop pestering her.

  “Or what? You gonna zap me like you did Dad?”

  Marsha ground her teeth together. “If you give me any more of that attitude, maybe I will.”

  “I don’t know why you’re always bugging her to let you drive this thing, anyway,” Frank drawled, and for all of about half a minute Marsha actually believed he might have been motivated by a desire to keep the peace. “It’s a piece of crap. We should get something cool.”

  “Ooh, yeah, like a motorcycle,” Jesse enthused.

  Marsha sighed. “Well, then you guys better start saving your money. Because you gotta know I’m not gonna be buying you a motorcycle.”

  “Maybe, if Mom doesn’t kill him, we can get Dad to buy us one,” Frank told his brother.

  “Very funny,” Marsha snapped again.

  “Maybe if Mom does kill him, you mean,” Jesse grumbled. “Before he gives everything to the fourth.”

  She knew she shouldn’t let herself be diverted, but she had to ask, “The fourth? The fourth what?”

  “That’s what he wants to call the baby,” Jesse informed her. “If it’s another boy. You know, because he’s Alexander James the third?”

  “Of course, one of us could have been the fourth,” Frank pointed out. “And then we’d probably be getting all the cars and motorcycles and stuff that we wanted.”

  “Yeah, way to go, Mom,” Jesse told her. “Just think, if you’d played your cards right, you could’ve been the one who got the fancy dinners and expensive presents, instead of Sherry.”

  “Sherry is getting presents just for agreeing with the stupid idea that her child doesn’t deserve his own name?” Marsha was stung into replying. “Please. Give me a little more credit than that.”

  Both boys regarded her pityingly.

  “No, of course not,” Jesse explained as they pulled up to the school. “Think about it, Mom. Why would he do all that, if she’d already said yes? She’s just agreed to think about it. And he’s, you know, helping her think.”

  “Really Mom,” Frank admonished pulling open the door. “You gotta learn to get with the program.”

  “Yeah right,” she grumbled as she watched them get out. The whole conversation was a little too eerily reminiscent of the one she’d had with Sam on Saturday morning.

  Well, shit, no wonder he’d gotten mad. And what could she have been thinking, accusing him of something like that? Not that it made any difference now, of course, she reminded herself, feeling glum.

  Begin as you mean to go on. Anyway you looked at it, it pretty much meant the same thing. It was only Monday morning, but already the week was screwed.

  * * *

  Scout was gone. Nick swore he could determine the exact moment when her little red car slid away across the county line. Even though he had been at his desk catching up on paperwork, determined to put her departure as far from his mind as possible, the knowledge blew through him like a cold wind.

  Gone. He gritted his teeth against the sense of loss that assailed him, the all-too-familiar emptiness. The difference this time was twofold. This time, he wouldn’t just be wondering what he was missing; he knew all too well. But on the other hand, this time he also knew she was coming back.

  He allowed himself a moment to ponder whether the differences canceled each other out or not before he sank his mind back into the work at hand.

  He almost had the whole picture now. But
proving anything was going to be extremely difficult, especially if he played strictly by the rules. There had been no witnesses to the murder, there was no evidence to speak of, and the motive— Well, that was where he’d really taken a gamble by allowing Sam to leave town. Because if he was lying about the fraud he claimed his partner had engineered, then he was the one with not only the motive, but the opportunity as well.

  But if Sam was to be believed – if his partner was behind Paige’s murder – then it was logical to assume two things. First, it wasn’t likely Vaughn himself who had killed her. Sam was probably right about that. His partner would have wanted to keep himself out of that. He would have hired someone else to deal with the problem.

  The second assumption he could make was that it was Sam who had been the primary target... and who remained a target still. And that was where he hoped to get lucky. If he could figure out a way to force the killer’s hand – to trick the killer into going after Sam – it had to be now though, before anyone learned that he was already gone.

  But was Sam really a target? The guy had been wandering around Oberon for over a week, in pretty clear view; taking only the most minimal precautions, as far as Nick could tell, and no one had killed him yet. He could just be incredibly lucky, of course. Or there could be other factors at work. But still—

  Either way, it really didn’t matter. Nick could feel things getting ready to fall into place. He didn’t have much time, though – just a few days, at most – to work out the details, and set up a trap to catch a killer.

  He was going to need some help with this one.

  * * *

  “Just a few more days.” Lucy sighed, running a twist of lemon rind around the edge of her cup. “Just a few more days and this will all be over. I can hardly wait.”

  Marsha smiled wearily at her friend. At least someone was in a good mood this morning, she thought, noting that Lucy had gone back to her usual espresso. “So, I take it everything is back to normal with you and Dan?” she remarked dryly.

  Lucy frowned. “Did I say anything about Dan, Marsha? I was talking about the wedding.”

  “I know,” Marsha couldn’t help teasing. “I was just making an observation.”

  “Yeah well, for your information, I happen to be pretty ticked off at Dan… so there. You would not believe what that man has done now. You should see his face! I just hope the photographer can figure out some way to work around it.” She sighed again. “Oh, well. At least everything else seems to be under control. The only real challenge I have left is arranging the flowers.”

  “Hmm.” Marsha frowned. “That reminds me, what do you know about violets?”

  “Violets?” Lucy looked puzzled. “I don’t know... wait, this isn’t about the hand-fasting amulets, is it? ‘Cause I know violets are sometimes used in love spells, and all... but I thought we’d agreed on the rose, yarrow and strawberry leaf combination?”

  “I’m not sure it has anything to do with the wedding,” Marsha told her, reluctant to mention the dream she’d had. “I just was wondering if you had any particular feeling about them? Or know any reason why they might be important right now?”

  “Actually, I’ve never really used violets all that much,” Lucy admitted. “I know I have a recipe somewhere for a violet cough syrup. And I think they’re supposed to be soothing for any kind of nerve-related problem, like headaches or insomnia, but then, so is lavender. And since lavender is so much easier to harvest...” She shrugged again.

  “Anything else you can think of?” Marsha prompted.

  “Well, maybe if I knew what you were trying to get at—” Lucy broke off suddenly. “Wait, the leaves. You can make the leaves into a poultice to minimize bruising. Marsha, you’re a genius.” She reached into her bag and extracted her cell phone. “I gotta call Dan right now and tell him to bring home a whole flat of them,” she said, punching numbers into the phone. “And then, I think I’ll call Scout and see if she’s made any decision about her dress yet.”

  “She said yesterday she was going to look for one in LA.” Marsha pointed out. “So I don’t know what you think she... what?” she asked aware that Lucy was staring at her, the cell phone forgotten in her hand.

  “LA? Marsha, what are you talking about? Scout’s not going to LA.”

  “Well, sure she is. She left this morning, didn’t she?”

  “She did what?” Lucy’s voice rose several octaves. “God, Marsha. Please tell me you’re kidding?”

  “Lucy, it’s only for a couple of days,” Marsha said soothingly. “There was some problem with one of her sculptures, or something, and she had to go down and deal with it. Anyway, you said yourself that everything’s pretty much under control here.”

  “Under control isn’t going to count for shit if there’s no one here to get married now, is it?”

  “Oh, hell. It’s not like she’s disappeared again.” Marsha shook her head. “You know damn well she’ll be back.”

  “We’ll see,” Lucy growled. “I wonder what Nick thinks about all this. I think it’s about time I paid that boy a little visit.”

  Marsha felt a twinge of apprehension. She owed Nick for keeping his mouth shut about her and Sam; it hardly seemed fair to pay him back by setting Lucy on him “So... you can’t think of anything else about violets?” she asked, hoping to change the subject.

  “What, are you obsessed now?” Lucy snapped. “I don’t know a damn thing, other than it’s bad luck if they bloom in the fall. But since I can’t imagine that things could get any worse than they are already, what’s the difference?”

  “How bad?” Marsha asked, as cold dread settled in her stomach.

  “Bad,” Lucy reiterated. “It’s like a warning of approaching danger, or death or something. Why? Don’t tell me you’ve seen some lately?”

  “Uh-huh. Up around the cabin.”

  Lucy shrugged. “Oh, well, that can’t have anything to do with this then, can it? It’s not like there’s anything connecting Scout with the cabin, right?”

  Marsha cleared her throat. “Well, actually...”

  * * *

  This time, Lucy didn’t even bother knocking on the door, she just barged right into Nick’s office and threw herself into the only empty chair in the room. Ignoring the startled look from the young cop who’d been meeting with her cousin, she fixed Nick with a steely stare. “Okay, cuz. What’s the deal here? Have I just been spinning my wheels these last couple months, or what?”

  Nick looked up at her and glowered. “Something I can help you with, Lucy? Or are you just under the impression that I needed a little more excitement in my life these days?”

  “A little less, is more like it,” Lucy muttered. She peered at her cousin more closely. “And what the hell happened to your face? You and Dan having a contest to see who can look worse by Saturday or something?”

  Nick sighed. “Yeah, Lucy. That was the plan, all right. Look, do you mind if we maybe do this later?” He indicated the other cop. “I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

  “Hell yes, I mind. Do you realize I’ve had Joey on my back for a solid week now, trying to convince me that you’ve started seeing Lauren again?”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Nick growled, throwing his pen on the desk.

  “I’ll come back,” Nick’s visitor said quietly, rising to his feet as he did so. “Why don’t I just get started on some of those... arrangements we discussed?”

  “Yeah, good idea. Thanks, Ry.” Nick glared at Lucy as he continued, “This shouldn’t take too long.”

  “Face it, Nick,” Lucy told him, after the other man had closed the door behind him. She crossed her arms and returned her cousin’s glare with a level look of her own. “We are knee-deep in bullshit around here, and it’s about time you cleared up some of the crap. Now, what’s the story with you and Lauren? I don’t care what my brother says, I know damn well you’re not going back to her.”

  “Well, of course I’m not,” Nick agreed, sh
oving his hands through his hair. “I just had this stupid idea that I could maybe get the damned annulment to go through before Saturday. But after a solid year of pushing for it, Lauren is suddenly being cute and stalling everything.”

  “Oh.” Lucy was momentarily nonplussed. “Well, there’s a surprise, for you – not. But what’s the big deal all of a sudden? You want to get married in the Church now?”

  Nick sighed. “I don’t know. I thought... if we did, maybe the family would be a little more receptive toward Scout. Probably a dumb idea. Anyway, it doesn’t matter, since it’s not gonna happen.” He fixed her with a tired look. “Now, is that all you needed to know? Because I really do have to get back to work.”

  “In a minute.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, you might want to ask Marsha to talk to Bob for you. See if he can do anything about it. Not that I won’t slit my own throat, if you start changing plans on me at this point.”

  “Who the hell is Bob?” Nick demanded, impatiently.

  “You know Bob, don’t you? He’s one of the priests over at Saint Dominic. Marsha and he go way back. If anyone can talk him into helping you, she can.”

  “Yeah? Too bad she’s not here to help talk you out of my office.”

  She made a face at him. “You want me to leave? So, fine. Answer my question and I’m gone.”

  “Jesus Christ, Lucy! I’m trying to solve a murder here, in case you’d forgotten. And I realize that you’ve been putting in a lot of work and time and effort. I swear I appreciate everything you’ve done for us. But... oh, hell. What is it you want me to tell you, anyway?”

  “It’s very simple, Nick. Just answer yes or no. Is there actually gonna be a wedding Saturday, or isn’t there?”

  “You really need me to tell you that I’m still getting married Saturday? Yes! Yes, of course, I am! Jesus, Lucy. Come on, you’re kidding, right? ‘Cause, why would you think—”

  “Why would I think that maybe one of you is having second thoughts?” Lucy found herself practically shouting. “Nick... I am trying to coordinate a wedding for a guy who’s spending most of his time investigating the murder of one of his old girlfriends, with the help of yet another old girlfriend; and in his off hours is hanging with his ex-wife.”