Murder Borrowed, Murder Blue

by Stephanie Blackmoore

  “Did you get a flu shot?”

  Xavier laughed and waved his hand. “Of course not! I don’t believe in vaccines. I only take natural remedies.”

  I sat back, stunned. I liked non-medicinal remedies, like hot tea with lemon, but when it came down to it, I was invested in science.

  “Summer is some kid,” Xavier said with a smile as he signed his receipt. “Perhaps you can give me some insight, Mallory. Will Garrett allow her to spend a month with us this summer? I know Adrienne will want to marry quickly. She was also thinking about broaching the subject of shared custody with Garrett.”

  “In Los Angeles?” My voice ended in a squeak. There was no way Garrett would agree. They’d end up in court. My heart ached for Summer. I remembered the hurtful early days of my parents’ divorce and shook my head.

  “We’ll see.” Xavier offered us a friendly parting wave and left the restaurant.

  “He’s not well,” Rachel offered, her eyes following the director from the restaurant.

  “He’s not the only one.” I stood and dragged my sister to the bar.

  * * *

  “What are you doing?” Rachel extricated me from her arm.

  “Look again,” I hissed and wheeled her around to face the dining room. “It’s worse than I thought.”

  Garrett and Adrienne sat at an intimate table for two, the light soft and dusky. I could barely hear Adrienne’s tinkling laughter over the chatter of the other diners, but it was there. Garrett was actually mustering up a smile or two.

  Traitor.

  I shook my head as if to clear it.

  They share a child. It’s a normal part of co-parenting since Adrienne happens to be in town.

  Adrienne picked up a small velvet box and opened the lid. A winking diamond sat on a bed of velvet.

  I yelped, backing into a pillar.

  Make that a waiter, carrying a tray of drinks. I fell to the floor, bringing the tray and the glasses with me. The cacophony was deafening, and several patrons in the dining room turned to watch the spectacle. Brown liquid, a rum and Coke from the smell of it, drenched my suede boots.

  “I’m so sorry!” I moved to help clean up, but the embarrassed waiter waved me on.

  I glanced up to see if Garrett had witnessed my klutziness, but he was nowhere to be seen. Adrienne, however, arched one perfect brow in barely restrained amusement.

  “Let’s get the heck outta here.”

  Rachel held out her hand and pulled me up. We made for the side exit, a slow heat crawling up my neck, surely staining my face red.

  A hand reached out and grabbed my arm.

  “Mallory, I need your help.”

  Chapter Eight

  It was Becca Cunningham. The stress of fulfilling the role of Helene’s almost daughter-in-law must have been wearing on her. Up close I could see that her trademark stripe of dark roots stood out against the blond hair in an even bigger swath than usual. She’d lost weight and her left eye twitched with a suspicious tic. The surprising rush of sympathy I’d felt for her in the dining room returned. She may have absconded with my fiancé, but I wouldn’t wish her current position under Helene’s thumb on anyone.

  But I had to get out of Pellegrino’s. Garrett would be returning to his dinner with Adrienne any minute now. I was already embarrassed enough, I didn’t want him to think I’d been spying on him.

  “Um, this isn’t the best time.” I glanced at my green dress, awash in a pungent, sticky mixture of Shirley Temple, iced tea, and cosmopolitan. It was time to make a graceful exit.

  Okay, so the graceful ship has sailed.

  “Please.” Becca’s eyes were wild and frantic. She glanced furtively at the dining room, where Keith was busy helping Helene into her fur coat. Becca’s hand gripped my arm like an eagle’s talon. “You’re my only hope.”

  Rachel smirked at Becca’s Princess Leia speech and gently removed her grasping hand from my arm. The large ring on her left hand had left an imprint on my skin, the princess-cut diamond biting into my flesh from the force of her pressing fingers.

  “Sorry, we’ve got to scram.” Rachel gave Becca a no-nonsense glare and we slipped on our coats.

  “I need to meet with you tomorrow. I’m desperate.” Becca winced and fingered the ruby pendant around her neck. “I’ll forever be in your debt.”

  I shivered, thinking of how I’d been in Helene’s debt, and ended up throwing the disastrous Winter Ball. But Becca seemed to be in dire straits, and part of me was downright curious.

  I felt my face soften. “Fine. I’m meeting with the florist at the Petal Shop tomorrow at ten-fifteen. Can we speak right before then?”

  A wave of gratitude seemed to crest and break over Becca’s shoulders. She sagged with apparent relief, and a tenuous smile quivered on her lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You won’t regret it.” And with that, she wheeled around to join Keith and Helene in the dining room.

  “What in the heck was that all about?” I stared at her retreating form for a few seconds before Rachel and I finally slipped out the side exit. I glanced behind me and caught a glimpse of Garrett helping Adrienne into her coat. I pushed the sight from my mind and let the door shut behind me.

  “Becca probably wants some survival tips on making it out alive as Keith’s fiancée,” Rachel quipped as we reached the Butterscotch Monster.

  I put thoughts of Becca out of my head and replayed the scene with Adrienne and Garrett in the restaurant.

  “Did you see what I think I saw?” I leaned back in my squeaky seat, the leather worn and cold. I recalled the small diamond ring in its little velvet box and took a few calming breaths. It didn’t work.

  Did Adrienne just propose to Garrett?

  “It wasn’t what you think.” Rachel waved her shiny acrylic fingertips in a dismissive motion. But her eyes were wide and incredulous, revealing her true thoughts. “Garrett is just being a good co-parent. I bet they’re talking about Summer.”

  “But I saw a ring!” My voice was high pitched and hysterical, and I swallowed hard and jabbed the key into the ignition.

  You’re not Garrett’s keeper or warden. Besides, Rachel is probably right. They’re just discussing Summer.

  Maybe I’d seen something else on the table. The lighting at Pellegrino’s was kept low to create a cozy atmosphere, and it could have been anything glinting on that table.

  Right?

  I had my doubts but turned the key. The engine coughed and sputtered in the cool night air.

  Rachel began her campaign immediately.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Mallory. You’re making a mental pro and con list about why we should or shouldn’t do the destination show.” Rachel sat back in the worn leather seat and clicked her seat belt with a satisfied smirk.

  “You know me well,” I grudgingly admitted as we pulled onto Main. “It’s an interesting opportunity, but—”

  “But what! It’s the chance of a lifetime!”

  “I don’t know if I’m cut out for constant filming.” I thought back over the past few days and the ever-present cameras. I was getting used to them at an alarmingly fast rate, and for the last day, I had forgotten they were even there. Still, I wasn’t sure if I could deal with the fabricated drama of reality TV on a daily basis.

  “I really, really want this for us.” Rachel batted her long sable lashes. “Pretty please? I have it all figured out.”

  I laughed and kept my focus on the road. “Okay, let’s hear it.”

  Rachel beamed and launched into her pitch. “Mom and Doug could run the B and B while we’re gone.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Mom has plans to un-retire and start a new decorating and staging business after she moves from Florida. I don’t know how she’d feel about being recruited to run the B and B.”

  I thought back to the colossal debates my mother and I had had about decorating Thistle Park and shivered. I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave the B and B in my mother’s undoubtedly capable hands for half the y
ear. She might be caught by the decorating bug, and I’d come back to a completely different house.

  “And we don’t even really know what Doug is planning to do,” I volleyed. Our stepfather was in agreement about moving back to Pennsylvania soon, but I wasn’t sure he’d be keen on running the B and B.

  “You just don’t want me to succeed.” I turned my head away from the road for a split second, in time to catch one of Rachel’s maudlin pouts.

  We’d advanced on the slalom-like road down the hill leaving the business section of Port Quincy and its rows of pretty but worn art deco office buildings, and crested the hill leading to Sycamore Street. Downtown gave way to a valley of neat saltboxes, cape cods, and cottages before we started our ascent again. Soon, we turned onto Sycamore Street, where Thistle Park rose like a crown jewel, an Italianate mansion holding court over a coterie of painted lady Victorians.

  “Oh, good grief! Of course I do.” Had my sister forgotten she’d talked me into this B and B and wedding-planning business in the first place?

  Rachel slammed the car door behind her and hurried up the herringbone path. I gave a weary sigh and chased after her.

  Rachel wheeled around when we reached the front hall. “Maybe if we get out of Port Quincy, I can find someone to date and not have it blow up in my face.” Hot tears gathered in the corners of her eyes and threatened to spill over. “Owen is the first guy I’ve had the guts to go out with in four months. I’m not sure if Port Quincy is a big enough pond for me.”

  “Oh, Rach.” I reached out to give my sister a hug. “We’ll talk this over and come to a decision together.”

  “Promise?” Rachel pulled back, a single tear streaking down her face. She hastily wiped it away and broke into a tentative, quivering smile.

  “I promise. But I wanted to ask one thing. Don’t mention this to Mom and Doug yet, okay?”

  “Deal.” Rachel beamed and held out her hand, her new manicure sparkling under the chandelier. She crooked her smallest finger and we sealed our promises with a pinky swear.

  “Excuse me, ladies.” Adrienne advanced up the path and hurried through the front door. I breathed a sigh of relief. Her meeting with Garrett was over. Adrienne bustled up the stairs, her spiky heels striking each stair with angry taps. She took a sharp left down the upstairs corridor. A door slammed with surprising force. Rachel and I glanced at each other and headed off in that direction.

  * * *

  We could hear the argument, muffled and intense, from a great distance at the top of the stairs. It was emanating from the blue room, the one I’d given to Adrienne and Xavier. Rachel and I tiptoed over the heavy brocade carpet, our steps muffled and quick.

  “We shouldn’t be—”

  “Shh!” Rachel clapped a hand over my mouth and motioned to the door.

  I rolled my eyes and followed my sister to the threshold. I didn’t want to admit I was just as curious.

  Rachel leaned against the door, her eyes wide.

  “Let’s get out of here—”

  “You promised!” Adrienne’s voice was strangled and shrill through the door. I gave up any pretense and leaned against the carved mahogany wood, pressing my ear as close as possible.

  “You were going to do everything you could to keep I Do on the air.”

  “It’s not up to me, babe.” Xavier’s cadence was as calm and Zen as usual. If I were Adrienne, it would have been mildly infuriating. “I’ve made entreaties to the producer and the network, but things aren’t looking good.”

  Rachel’s brows arched in surprise and she leaned back against the door.

  “This will probably be the last episode of I Do.” Xavier’s voice was reluctant yet firm.

  A wail, undoubtedly Adrienne’s, resounded through the door. “I need to be gainfully employed if I’m going to try to get more custody. I’ve fought so hard to make something of myself for her.”

  A stab of sympathy slipped into my side. So Adrienne was serious about trying to be more present in her daughter’s life. I wondered if she’d made her plans known to Garrett tonight or to Summer herself. I heard the muffled sound of sniffles; then Xavier resumed the conversation.

  “Don’t worry. If Dakota and Beau’s wedding continues to be the train wreck it is so far, we’ll catapult up the ratings.” Xavier’s voice was matter of fact without a hint of glee, but I still felt disgusted.

  “But even if this episode isn’t enough to save the show, I have another plan. I was devastated when Caitlin died and Silverlake High was cancelled,” Xavier continued. “I promised myself I’d always have something new in the works. The network is scouting for talent for a new destination wedding show. The executive producer asked me to keep an eye out.”

  “Oh, Xavier! I’d love to do a destination show.” Adrienne’s voice cracked with relief. Rachel’s eyes went wide.

  “She’s stealing our—”

  “Shh!” This time I clapped my hand over my sister’s mouth and shamefully continued to listen, my ear pressed so hard to the door I was sure it would be red.

  “Actually, I’m going to suggest Mallory and Rachel as hosts.” Xavier’s voice was not unkind, but it didn’t matter how he broached it. The explosion that followed could be heard without pressing our ears to the door.

  “What?” Adrienne’s voice was a genuine squawk. “That mousy wedding planner and that hussy? What are you thinking? I’d be perfect to host a destination show, but you’re considering them?”

  “That’s it—” A wave of fury washed over Rachel’s face and she put her hand on the brass doorknob. “She just called me—”

  The door flung open and Rachel and I toppled into the room. Adrienne gasped, then composed herself with startling swiftness.

  “Well, excuse me.” She stepped over the tangle of limbs and red faces that was me and my sister and primly exited down the hall, with nary a backward glance. Her steps were as precise and delicate as usual, but her back was uncomfortably ramrod straight. I felt a rush of embarrassment from openly spying. Adrienne’s ring finger was bare, so I guess Xavier hadn’t popped the question just yet.

  And neither did Garrett.

  I peeled myself off the floor for the second time this evening and dared to look Xavier in the eye. His lips were twitching, and his eyes were filled with mirth. I could finally see a few wrinkles in his impossibly smooth face, the laugh lines daring to come out.

  Phew.

  “We were just, um, checking up on you,” I lamely lied. “You didn’t look so hot at dinner.”

  Xavier nodded, giving us an out. “I think I’m coming down with the flu.” He rested his hand on his flat stomach and sat down in a striped navy chair with a weary sigh. He drew his warm and luxurious merino wool hoodie closer around him, and shucked off his ever-present Adidas shoes.

  “I could get you some cold medicine,” I suggested, ticking the options off on my fingers. “We have NyQuil, Robitussin—”

  “Oh, no, no thank you.” Xavier screwed up his face as if the mere suggestion of over-the-counter cold remedies were an invitation to ingest poison. “I never take that dreck. Adrienne’s been on me all season to get a flu vaccine as well, but I don’t believe in them.”

  Just what we need. The flu going around.

  “I think I’ll make a nice, healing smoothie.” He winced and cradled his stomach again. “Perhaps lemon, wheatgrass, and mint. A pinch of sea salt. A base of green tea.”

  His latest concoction actually sounded delicious, not like his usual noxious mixtures.

  “The last time I had the genuine flu, I was laid up for a week.” He shuddered and leaned into the striped wingback chair, pulling the hood over his head with a shiver. “It was that awful week when Caitlin Quinn died on set.”

  I thought back to Ellie and Iris’s recounting of that fateful week thirteen years ago and leaned in closer. Xavier closed his eyes as if recalling the incident.

  “Caitlin was holding up shooting to try to get more money in her new contract. We couldn
’t film, so Dakota had her friends from Port Quincy out for a visit. The studio was considering replacing Caitlin, and I got to weigh in on the final decision. I watched a bunch of auditions, and then the flu hit me full force. Knocked me flat on my back.” He shivered as he recalled his illness. “I stayed at home for the next two weeks in a NyQuil fugue, and when I came out of it, Caitlin was dead, Dakota’s visitors were gone, and the show was cancelled.”

  “You were incapacitated when Caitlin died?”

  “Roxanne took care of me.” Xavier’s eyes fluttered open and he seemed to stare into the past. He shivered again.

  A thought skittered across my brain.

  Roxanne used to drug Dakota when she had trouble sleeping. Could she have drugged Xavier when he had the flu?

  But all I said was, “Roxanne?”

  “We were a couple back then.” He offered a rueful and blinding white smile through his evident pain. “I think I shocked the hell out of her when she saw me this week. I guess Dakota didn’t tell her I’d be directing, or Roxanne never would have allowed her to take this gig.” He chuckled mirthlessly.

  Rachel and I held a silent conference over his head.

  So Roxanne and Xavier were a thing.

  “We’ll let you rest.” I practically dragged Rachel from the room and we headed down the back stairs to the kitchen.

  “The plot thickens.” Rachel raised a brow and motioned upstairs. “So Roxanne used to date Xavier.”

  “And from the looks of it, she never got over it.”

  We clammed up as we hit the last stair, but we couldn’t be heard anyway over the whir of the blender. Adrienne was whipping up a restorative smoothie, and from the looks and smell of it, the ingredients were the ones Xavier had mentioned.

  A grain of an idea seeded itself in my head.

  “What if we used some of the herbs in Ellie and Iris’s greenhouse to craft a signature drink for Dakota?”

  Adrienne whirled around, her face genuinely excited and interested. “That’s a lovely idea, Mallory.” She offered me a small smile and advanced up the back stairs.

  “She’s not so bad,” Rachel sighed. “When she’s not giving you the evil eye for being with Garrett, or trying to redo all your wedding plans.”