Motto for Murder (Merry Wrath Mysteries Book 6)

by Leslie Langtry

  Whoever trashed the rooms above was trying to destroy their handiwork. How could they do that with the police standing guard outside?

  Unless, there weren't any officers standing guard. More likely it was Kevin in a squad car across the street with his arm wrist-deep in a bag of fried pork rinds.

  It didn't matter, because I was going to be burned alive unless I got out of here somehow. And fast.

  I took a chance, hoping the arsonists had torched the room and fled. Scaling the bookshelf once more, I popped open the door to see the floor in a sea of flames. All that paper was excellent kindling.

  So now I was in a room saturated with paper and giant, scary flames. Running across the floor would only make me splash kerosene on myself, causing anything exposed to flame to catch fire. I scaled the back of the desk and climbed over to the front. From there, I jumped onto the bed, then to the doorway.

  The floor in the hallway was dry. Maybe they thought they could start the fire in one room and it would spread that way. But why pick a room with a window that faces front?

  I didn't have time to think about that. Racing through the living room, I made it out the back way through the kitchen and kept running until I was two blocks away.

  Sirens erupted in the distance, and soon two fire trucks passed me. I ducked into an alley and took the long way around the fire until I got to my house. The cats weren't there to greet me, but that was okay. I hit the shower, washing the smell of kerosene and smoke off me. Then I took my clothes downstairs and threw them in the washer.

  I couldn't do much about my shoes or the scorched and now broken blue jay, so I stashed those outside in the backyard. Hopefully they'd air out. It took all of twenty minutes to do this. Soon I was on my couch, wearing clean sweats and rubber gloves, and going through the stolen laptop. I kept an eye on the window in case Rex came by, but I was pretty sure he was at the crime scene.

  If the fire razed the house, I was pretty sure the secret room would be discovered. They might find the remains of the radio and lemon juice, but chances were they'd be destroyed too.

  The laptop came on, but I was blocked. I needed a password. I tried Kate's name, her address, Mr. Pickles again, and even Naked Dummy, but nothing worked. I needed a hacker. Unfortunately, I was so distracted, I barely noticed my front door opening.

  "Howdy, ma'am." A man in a hard hat and coveralls stood in my doorway as I jumped to my feet and shoved the laptop behind the couch. "I need to check your meter," the man wearing a huge moustache said. He sounded like a cowboy. He looked like Riley.

  "Dammit, Riley!" I swore. "You can't walk in here anytime you want!"

  He closed the door behind him and took off the hat. "Sure I can. You gave me a key, remember?"

  I grabbed his wrist and twisted it hard, snatching the key from his hand.

  "No, you made a copy of the key that I took back from you last time. Why are you here, and why do you look like the saddest member of the Village People?"

  Riley peeled off the mustache. "I can't fool you, can I?"

  "Again," I insisted, "why are you here, and why are you in disguise?"

  He shrugged. "No reason. I was just passing through from—"

  "Chicago to Omaha?" I asked. "I don't think so. For one thing, why travel incognito? Secondly, we're about thirty minutes off Highway 80, so this is a detour. Why?"

  He sighed and unzipped the coveralls to reveal a very fitted white T-shirt and jeans. Riley sat down on the couch and patted the seat beside him. I sat in a chair instead. Riley had a strange effect on me. I wasn't immune to his charms. We'd been a couple once, and it was hard to forget.

  "The truth is"—he ran his hands through his thick golden hair—"I'm on a case."

  Was he investigating the Fontanas? Kate Becks? I really was on to something! I just couldn't let him know that.

  "Here? In Who's There? What kind of case could you be on here?"

  He grinned. "That's confidential."

  I wanted to murder him.

  "Seriously? You've come to see me twice. That means you want to tell me."

  A very naughty look crossed his face. "Well, you could always seduce it out of me."

  "That"—I folded my arms over my chest to show him I meant it—"is not happening. You should just tell me. Out of professional courtesy."

  "Where are the cats?" He looked around.

  "Don't change the subject…"

  "No, really Wrath." He stood up and looked around. "Where are Philby and Martini?"

  "What are you talking about? They're…somewhere…doing cat things."

  It was weird that the cats didn't tackle Riley the minute he appeared. I started down the hallway after a glance into the kitchen. The cats were curled up in my unmade bed.

  Riley stood dangerously close behind me. "So, they're in bed."

  Only, he said the word bed as if it was a suggestion. I broke free and turned to face him. Philby and Martini woke up and stretched. Upon seeing my former handler, they threw themselves at him, purring. He had no choice but to scoop them up and carry them back down the hall to the living room, where once again, he sat on the couch.

  "Lighten up, Wrath," he said. "You're so tense. You never used to be this tense. Is something bothering you?"

  He was talking about the wedding.

  "Yes," I said airily, "my old boss keeps showing up in disguise for no apparent reason."

  "You're off the payroll," he said. "I don't have to tell you anything."

  "I could torture it out of you," I warned.

  "I'm not sure we have time for foreplay." He winked.

  I screamed in frustration. This man was driving me insane!

  "Sorry," Riley said with eyes that didn't mean it. "I took that too far."

  I said nothing as I went to the kitchen, pulled a salami log and cheddar cheese from the fridge, and started chopping it up. Riley joined me and poured us each a glass of red wine. I tried to give the impression that slicing the salami was something I was going to do to him if he didn't talk. He ignored me.

  Philby jumped up onto the counter. She touched the first slice with her paw, then sat back. It was an old trick of hers—one she usually reserved for bacon. The cat knew if she touched something, like the burger or whatever I was eating, I'd give it to her, knowing those paws had been in a litter box.

  I handed her the slice of meat, and she began devouring it. Martini stayed on the floor, rubbing up against Riley's ankles. That was good because she needed to maintain a healthy weight until I saw the vet again. Philby was a lost cause.

  After munching on a few slices of cheese and meat, I asked as casually as possible, "Are you here because of my neighbors?"

  He didn't even blink. "What about your neighbors?"

  "The Fontanas," I said at last. I didn't like tipping my hand. "Are you watching them because they're illegals?"

  Riley looked me in the eye. "Honestly, Merry, I have no idea what you're talking about."

  I threw my hands in the air. "What is it then? Why are you here?"

  He said nothing for a few minutes.

  "Okay," Riley said slowly, "suppose I was here for a reason. What makes you think it has anything to do with you? It isn't all about you."

  "Then why are you in my house, and what is that reason? Remember, I'm holding a salami knife."

  I'd just recently learned that knives had names, so yes, I was showing off a bit. I had no idea if there was such a thing as a salami knife, but maybe Riley wouldn't know that.

  He leaned back in his chair at the breakfast bar. "I'm here to visit my goddaughter, Finn."

  I shook my head. "No, you are not."

  "What makes you so sure? It's not strange to imagine I would take a small detour to see the child I'm responsible for."

  "And does Finn, who's only a year and a half old, require you to dress like an outrageously handsome meter reader when you come visit her?"

  I slapped my hand over my mouth. I didn't mean to say that.

  Ri
ley laughed. "Okay, okay. I am looking into something. But I can't tell you anything about it."

  I ignored the last sentence. "So, it is the Fontanas. Or is it Kate Becks? Or both?"

  He shook his head. "Where do you get your imagination?" Riley stood up and put his disguise back on.

  "Maybe because I only see you in disguise anymore?" I asked as I followed him to the door.

  Before I could react, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. Everything went limp, except for my rage, which I used to pull away from him.

  I stood there, fuming and sexually confused, unable to speak.

  "Bye Wrath." He winked. "Say hi to Rex for me."

  He's lucky I left the salami knife in the kitchen, I thought as the door closed behind him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  I fumed for hours, stomping around the house, slamming doors, and shouting at myself. The cats followed me from room to room, waiting to see what I'd do next. Maybe they were worried about me. Maybe they were entertained. It was hard to tell at that point because my fury was burning through my lips.

  He'd kissed me! I didn't kiss him. And it was a good kiss. Dammit! I grabbed the salami knife and threw it, scoring a perfect bull's-eye in the target I had pinned to one of the cupboards. I'd never really liked the wood, but Kelly had told me they were fine and I should wait until they wore out to replace them.

  I put the target up the next day. She didn't say I couldn't give the wood a little help…

  Whether he was in town for work or not, one thing was clear. Riley was messing with me. Who kisses an engaged woman? While I didn't know much about marriage rituals, I was pretty sure kissing the bride-to-be was something only done by the groom-to-be.

  The question was, was Riley just trying to make me mad, or did he have feelings for me? No. It didn't matter how he felt. I was engaged to Rex. Happily. I wanted to marry Rex. Riley was fun, but he wasn't what I wanted. Rex was a grown-up. He was sweet, and smart, loved my cats, and made me tingle when he kissed me.

  Unfortunately, Riley's kiss had the same effect.

  Arghhhhhh!

  I threw a fork this time, and the tines straddled the salami knife on the target. This was so maddening! I had enough on my plate without…without Riley stirring the pot! I'd definitely need to talk to Susan about this.

  I definitely wouldn't be talking to Rex or Kelly about this.

  It didn't matter anyway. If Riley told people he'd kissed me, I'd just deny it. I was an excellent liar. And then, I'd remove his liver with a fork. In fact, next time I saw him I'd…I'd…well, I don't know what I'd do, but he wouldn't like it.

  Eventually, I ran out of steam, and cutlery, and fell onto the sofa to pout. Martini sprawled out on the back of the sofa, belly up. Philby stood by my feet and stared at something behind the couch.

  "What is it?" I asked. "Don't tell me we have mice now."

  I got up and followed her gaze to find Kate Becks' laptop! In my blistering, fork-tossing rage, I'd completely forgotten about it. Pulling the computer onto my lap, I turned it on. A background of Mr. Pickles with a sour look filled the screen. Philby hissed at it. I couldn't blame her.

  It was password protected. This wasn't a surprise, just a disappointment. Every rare now and then, you get lucky on these things. Sometimes a spy is just lazy and doesn't make a password. Or worse, they use something obvious like 1234.

  Unfortunately, Kate wasn't lazy or obvious. I typed in Mr. Pickles, the name of the vet clinic, and anything cat themed with no luck. Maybe food would help. In the kitchen I got a jar of peanut butter and a spoon, with a glass of white wine. White wine goes with peanut butter, right?

  I sat at the breakfast bar with the laptop until the sky grew dark. I tried all of my tricks, from an electro-magnetic disrupter to calling in a favor to a guy at the NSA who owes me two hundred dollars for cookies, but they didn't work either.

  I suspect Marvin was holding out on me. He had access to some serious technology. Well if he thought he was getting any cookies next year, he had another think coming. Maybe I should send Betty to collect.

  Finally, I shoved it underneath some wedding magazines for cover, and that's when I remembered I didn't have a dress yet. This was an excellent opportunity for a distraction, so I called Kelly and asked her to come over. To my surprise, even with the late hour, she agreed.

  Five minutes later we were skimming through the magazines. As I filled her in on Randi's alleged traditional requirements.

  She laughed. "Let me see the brooch!"

  Oh, crap. I ran out to the backyard and, after fighting off a raccoon for it, brought it in and handed it to her.

  "The wing is broken." Kelly sounded sad as she turned it over in her hands. "And it smells like kerosene and smoke."

  The right wing was broken. Randi would not be happy.

  A twinge of guilt the size of the Grand Canyon weighed down on me. "Do you think we can fix it?"

  "You're going to wear it?" Kelly asked. "It will hide the bodice of your dress!"

  "What dress?" I shoved the magazines away. "None of these are me at all! I'm not exactly the lace or beaded dress type."

  All of the dresses we'd found had either voluminous skirts, were strapless with eight million beads, or something terrifying called a "mermaid" style.

  "I can't run in this!" I pointed at said mermaid dress.

  Kelly rolled her eyes. "Why would you need to run in it? You'll only wear it during the ceremony and reception."

  "One should always be prepared. For anything. What if there's a robbery? Or a fire?" It could happen. I've been at weddings in six different time zones, and four of them caught fire. "There've been three fires in the area in the last month."

  "Speaking of which"—she ignored me and kept turning pages—"what's up with that? Has Rex said anything?"

  I shook my head. "No. I guess we'll just have to wait for the paper." And because of Riley's kiss, I wasn't too keen to press Rex for any information at the moment.

  "It's Thursday. And the next one doesn't come out until Saturday."

  That was the joy of a small-town newspaper. It only came out on Wednesdays and Saturdays.

  "I guess I should ask…" I said absently.

  "What's going on?" Kelly closed the magazine and turned her full attention on me. "Did something happen?"

  I gave her a look. "Did Riley come see you this afternoon?"

  Kelly frowned. "No. Why?"

  I filled her in on my two visits. I left out the part about the kiss. I was pretty sure she'd judge me for that. I knew there were rules about getting married, even if I wasn't sure what they were. My best friend listened without speaking. When I finished, she went back to her magazine.

  "I knew you had unresolved issues with him."

  "What? How do you get that out of what I said? The man has come to me, both times incognito. I'd say he's the one with issues."

  Kelly turned a page and tried to act casual. "Have you told Rex about Riley's visits?"

  I feigned interest in a particularly ugly neon pink bridal gown with puffy sleeves the size of my head. "No."

  Her cautious tone with me seemed out of character. "Doesn't that strike you as lying to him?"

  Okay, she was judgy.

  "Not necessarily. If the Feds are here working on a case and he doesn't know about it, he'll be angry. I'd hate to do that to him."

  While that was technically true, I suspected that if you added "and your fiancé doesn't tell you the Feds are here, he'll be upset," it would be true also.

  "Well…" Kelly sighed. "This is none of my business anyway. Let's change the subject. Have you ordered the berets for Thinking Day?"

  I ran and grabbed my laptop from the bedroom and quickly typed in black beret.

  "Why run and get that one, when you could've used this one?" Kelly pointed at the laptop on the table. The one that had been hidden by magazines. Magazines we were now looking through.

  "Because," I said as I bought the French hats, "that one is
n't mine."

  I closed my laptop and told her about Katie Becks and my narrow escape from being turned into one of Betty's blackened hot dogs. That kid had a thing for really, really burnt food. You might think I'm exaggerating, but at the last campout, she blackened a hot dog to the point where it liquefied inside. And she ate it.

  Instead of lecturing me on the stupidity of almost dying—a thing she did a lot—Kelly thought for a moment.

  "You need a hacker."

  I nodded.

  Kelly continued, "I know who you can ask."

  My jaw dropped open. "Who?" Kelly knew a hacker? How did she know a hacker? My best friend was pretty straightlaced. Especially when I took Martini to the hospital.

  "You'll see her at the meeting tomorrow," Kelly said.

  One of the girls? I guess that made sense. They were pretty savvy. One time Inez got in trouble for hacking into the school district computer. She didn't even change grades, just changed the lunch menu so they'd have pigs in a blanket every day for a week. The lunch ladies didn't even notice.

  Kelly shoved a magazine at me with a very simple gown. White satin, fitted, off the shoulder. I liked it.

  "As much as I don't like you involving the girls in espionage, bring the laptop."

  "And the dress?" I asked as I tore the page from the magazine.

  "Tomorrow morning…" Kelly nodded. "We will go to the bridal shop and see what we can do."

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I didn't sleep at all. Every time I closed my eyes, I thought about Riley's kiss. Oh sure. You probably thought I'd be reliving the terror of almost being burned alive. But I didn't. I'd been in so many life-threatening scenarios as a spy, they hardly registered anymore.

  In Paraguay I'd been cornered by a gang of street thugs who'd thought I had drugs on me. In Bucharest, while impersonating the Romanian Secretary of Agriculture, I'd had to give a one-hour, spur of the moment speech to a bunch of farmers on turnip futures. And in Cairo I'd been in a basket that had been set on fire and thrown into a lake.

  I always wondered who would set something on fire and then toss it into water. I just chalked it up as being grateful they were that stupid.