by Julie Chase
The scarves went quickly, and the finished products were spectacular. Definitely a fit for any New Orleans parade. Unfortunately, the repetitive process of stitching sequins had left too much time for idle thoughts, and I’d concocted a lengthy and heartbreaking list of the people in Annie’s orbit with a motive to kill. Her brother and assistant were at the top of my list—drug dealers in the wind. Closely behind them was Shannon Martin. Annie had put the famous AL label on his designs. Was that agreed upon? Or had she stolen them outright? Could she also have stolen her crazy ex-husband’s kittens, as he claimed? Animal activists, as a whole, were at the bottom of my list. No solid reason to hurt her, but they seemed collectively off-balance when it came to her.
I’d almost forgotten about Gideon, the Heart to Heart shelter owner. I took a break and texted Scarlet:
Need to brainstorm. Can you talk?
I hated to call when there was a new baby in the house. I’d seen what Scarlet could do to people who woke the baby, and I didn’t need that kind of wrath.
While I waited for her to respond, I called the hospital where Gideon was in recovery and posed as his sister. The nurse who answered refused to tell me anything about him but slipped by saying I should stop by in person after dinner. I reasoned that meant he was awake but not taking calls. An unconscious man wouldn’t have dinner. If I wanted to talk to Gideon, I’d have to go to the hospital and convince him to talk.
My phone buzzed with a response from Scarlet.
Chase is here. Should I sneak away?
I answered,
Bring him.
The more input the better.
On our way.
I smiled. A phone call would’ve worked, but alone time with Scarlet was better.
I grabbed a string cheese and an apple for dinner and got back to work.
Forty minutes later, headlights flashed across my front window. Penelope jumped onto the sill for a closer look. Her long tail swished over the ledge behind her.
I shifted the llama scarves onto the coffee table and went to open the door.
Scarlet jogged onto the porch and pulled me into a hug. “Hey, you. I’m so glad you called. I want to hear everything about your life and eat dinner with someone who won’t poop or puke on me.”
“No promises,” I laughed.
She took my hand and beamed. “I brought a surprise.”
Chase climbed out of the shiny red sports car at the curb. He smiled over two pizza boxes and a pile of chip bags. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“You have no idea.” I locked the door behind him and followed the tangy scents of tomato sauce and hot, salty cheese to the kitchen. Chase unloaded his arms and spread the bounty on my cheery white countertop.
I grabbed three glasses from the drying rack and filled them with ice. “You guys didn’t have to bring dinner. This is too much.”
Chase cracked open a two liter of soda and filled the glasses. “I’m terrible at making decisions, so I overorder. It’s my thing.”
“In that case, I accept.” I helped myself to a big slice of veggie lovers and subdued a moan.
“Okay.” Scarlet rubbed her palms together. “What’s up?”
“I need help with a plan.”
Chase crossed his arms and leaned back against my counter. “Is this about what happened earlier with that designer’s ex-husband?”
I gave Scarlet the stink eye. “You told him about that?”
She shrugged. “I was upset for you. This mess with Annie Lane is scary, and you’re right in the middle of it. Your house was broken into. You were attacked in broad daylight. You’re being stalked by a guy in a cat costume.” She paled as she spoke. “Actually, Carter and I were discussing this earlier, and he suggested I take you and Poppet to my family’s home in Martha’s Vineyard until this blows over.”
“That’s a fantastic idea,” Chase said. “I vote for that one.”
I bit into my pizza and wrapped the stringy cheese around one finger until it broke. I chewed methodically before responding. “First of all, thank you, and Carter, for a really wonderful offer.”
She arched a brow. “But?”
“But,” I continued as graciously as possible, “I don’t want to.”
“Of course not,” she deadpanned. “You’re clearly in danger here, so where else would you want to be?”
“I need to be here to keep my store alive.” I wiped my mouth on a paper towel. “Plus I think I know how to wrap this investigation up.”
Chase barked a laugh, then reached for a second slice of pizza without further comment.
I returned my attention to Scarlet. “I have a plan.”
She gave me her business face. “Let’s hear it.”
I filled Scarlet in about the pills hidden inside the little pillows. Shockingly, Chase didn’t contribute to my explanation, despite the fact that he’d been there when I’d discovered them. “So.” I pulled a tiny pillow from my sewing bag on the counter. “I made this at work.”
Chase took the pillow from my hands. “It looks just like the one you tore up.” He raised confused eyes to mine. “Jack took it as evidence.”
“Correct. So I made another. It wasn’t hard. The pillows were clearly mass-produced. No craftsmanship at all.” It seemed everything I thought I knew about Annie had been skewed and filtered for the press. Smoke and mirrors. In truth, she had an ugly divorce from Latherope, an addict brother she hid from the spotlight, and she sent her pillows to be sewn by laborers, when it’s clearly stated on her website that any item bearing he famous AL logo was handcrafted by her. I pushed irrational feelings of personal betrayal from my mind. “What’s important is that Josie doesn’t know Jack took the pillow from me. What if I invite her over for tea and pretend this is the pillow I took from her house?”
“But she’s on the lam,” Scarlet said. “Why would she come here for tea?”
“She doesn’t know I know she’s on the lam.” I took the pillow back from Chase and tossed it to Scarlet. “So I’m going to open an Instagram account and put up a picture of my pillow, then tag Josie in it. I’ll caption it with something like, ‘Mourning the loss of my personal hero. Thankful for this token I kept after my last visit.’ Josie will see it and think I have some of her drugs. She’ll have to come.”
Scarlet nodded slowly. “That’s a solid way to reach her if she’s hiding. She’s probably ditched her phone by now. And you’re right. She’ll want the pillow back.”
“When she reaches out to me, I’ll invite her for tea.”
Chase was statue still and slightly pale. “You’re talking about a criminal. A drug dealer at best. A murderer at worst. You can’t invite her over and provoke her. That’s a terrible plan—possibly the worst I’ve ever heard.”
I raised both palms in frustration. “This is why we’re brainstorming. I need to talk through things.”
He relaxed by a fraction. “So you’re just making plans. You don’t seriously intend to confront her?”
I dragged my gaze back to Scarlet. Chase was starting to sound like Jack. “What if I meet her somewhere in public instead, like a café for lunch or coffee? I can download an app on my phone and record our conversation, so whatever she says will be documented.”
Scarlet frowned. “I don’t think you can use a recording against a person that doesn’t know they’re being taped.”
Chase rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, she can in the state of Louisiana, but just because it’s admissible as evidence doesn’t mean it’ll be accepted without predicate.”
I smiled. “You’re a lawyer.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah.”
It hadn’t sunk in before that moment. Chase was back to stay. He’d set down roots and had taken up the law. I shook off the weird smile creeping on my face. “What’s predicate?”
“Well, you’d have to prove it’s Josie’s voice on the tape. You’d also have to prove you didn’t doctor the recording in any way. You can’t present parts of a conv
ersation that sound incriminating. It has to be admitted as a whole.”
“Okay. Easy. No tampering.” I shot Scarlet a face. He made it sound like I was angling to do something sketchy.
“Right,” Chase continued, “but even then, a recording created by a cell phone app might not be determined as capable of making the kind of recording that guarantees all that, plus clarity and accuracy. Wind, background noises, anything that can muddle or distort her voice or words will be a problem.”
I deflated. “I could still try.”
“You can try, but I think there are too many what-ifs to risk meeting with this woman anywhere.”
Scarlet hopped off her stool and retrieved a bottle of water from the fridge. “I can’t have any more soda. The caffeine keeps Poppet up.” She cracked the lid and sipped gingerly. “If you get to talk to Josie, what do you plan to ask? What would you gain? It’s not like she’d admit to committing a crime.”
A new idea emerged. “What if I put a tracking chip in the pillow?” I dropped my chin and widened my eyes. “How about that? Then Jack could find her.”
Chase tapped his phone, fully ignoring me.
Scarlet looked mad. “Where do you buy a tracking chip?”
“I’m not sure. eBay?” I said.
She looked to Chase.
He shrugged. “eBay has everything.”
I stuffed a chip into my mouth and crunched. “Once she has the pillow, Jack can track her. Then she won’t be in the wind. No. Wait.” I shook my head and helped myself to another chip. “She might rip the pillow open as soon as she leaves, find the tracker, and bring her crazy boyfriend to get me.” I stomped one foot. “Darn it.”
Scarlet tapped her nails on the counter. “I like where this is going, but you need a better plan.”
Maybe Jack didn’t need to track her with a chip. “Maybe Jack could just be at the café when she arrives and cuff her.”
“Better.” Scarlet nodded.
I finished my slice of pizza, lost in thought. “You know the worst part? Even if I somehow flushed Josie out and Jack got his hands on her, I don’t think it would get us any closer to finding Annie’s killer. Josie and Ryan are wanted for drugs, not murder. Ryan was Annie’s brother. I can’t imagine him killing his own sister. Can you?”
Scarlet gasped. “Heavens, no.”
“Spoken like a couple of only children,” Chase said. “Siblings fight. Accidents happen. Also, some people are certifiable. And if Ryan was using drugs at the time, he’s capable of all sorts of things. In case you’re keeping track, that’s one more reason to stay away from both of them.”
“All right, but there has to be something I can do,” I said. “I’m going bananas sitting around wondering when the next awful thing will happen.”
Chase refilled our cups with soda. “You could take Imogene up on her offer to contact Annie. Get the facts straight from the ghost’s mouth.”
I groaned. “I need a serious suggestion, please.”
“That was a serious suggestion.”
“Chase,” I scolded. “You’re an attorney at the state’s leading law firm. You’re bright and educated. How can you buy into that junk?”
“How could you grow up in the country’s most haunted city and not? You know what else I bought the minute I joined the family firm? A whole case of Imogene’s other-lawyer-be-stupid spells.”
“Oh my word.”
Scarlet laughed. “I think we should spend some more time working on the plan. Let’s sleep on it and regroup tomorrow.”
I rested my elbows on the island beside the pizza boxes. “I should probably get Jack involved somehow.” Not that he’d bother hearing me out. “Maybe I could call him at the last minute, once it’s too late for him to interfere and stop me.”
Someone pounded on my door.
Scarlet shot me a puzzled look. “Expecting anyone else?”
“No.” I looked to Chase, hoping he’d accompany me to the door in case the cat-man was feeling frisky tonight.
Chase sealed the pizza box lids and stacked our leftovers in a tidy pile, utterly ignoring me.
The pounding continued, but Chase didn’t look up.
“I guess I’ll get that.” I moved slowly through my home, angling for a look through the front window. A big black truck sat at the curb.
I opened the door. “Jack? We were just talking about you.”
He brushed past me to the kitchen.
“Sure. Come on in.” I locked up and putted behind him. “Are all the men in my life acting strangely tonight, or is it just me?” I asked Scarlet.
Jack stopped in the kitchen doorway and shook Chase’s hand.
Scarlet leaned around the wall of testosterone. “Men always act strangely. That’s why God created women. To help them.”
Jack glared.
“What?” she said. “It’s in the Bible.”
He braced broad hands over narrow hips and nodded at Chase. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
“No problem, man.” Chase hefted the leftovers off my counter and stepped into my personal space. He formed an impish grin. “Sorry, Lacy, but I don’t want you to get hurt, and I’d rather you argue with him than me. I’m the good guy. I saved your cat.” He dropped a kiss on my cheek and headed for the door.
Scarlet hugged me good-bye. “I’m his ride. Guess it’s time to go. Nice to see you again, Jack. Call me later, Lacy.”
The door sucked shut behind them. And I was alone with a very angry detective.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Jack grouched. “You know whatever you’re up to is disastrous when Chase sells you out. He’s usually your biggest enabler.”
“I’m not up to anything. We were brainstorming,” I grumbled. Didn’t anyone know the rules of brainstorming? No tattling. “I can’t believe he ratted me out.”
“Believe it.”
“Is this a scold-and-run or are you staying for a visit?”
He looked me over. The flat cop expression gave nothing away.
I sighed. “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? String cheese?”
“No.”
“Fine.” I padded to the couch in my living room and pulled a llama scarf onto my lap. “At least sit while you yell.”
He lowered his lean frame onto the cushion beside me. His dark jeans and black boots were a strong contrast against my cream upholstery and muted-gray throw rug. The sleeves of his navy button-down were rolled to his elbows, and the white T-shirt underneath was fully exposed. He’d unbuttoned the entire shirt at some point.
“Bad day?” I asked.
“Long day. I was on my way home when Hawthorne put up the bat signal.”
I tucked a foot underneath me and looked as serious as possible. “You’re Batman in this scenario?”
“I’m always Batman.”
I threaded a needle with a giggle. “Thank you for not yelling.”
“I’m not a yeller.”
No. He was a brooder, and something was definitely wrong tonight. “Did you ever catch up to Mr. Latherope?”
“Nope.” Jack dropped his head back and stared at my ceiling. “He’s gone. Ryan’s gone. Josie’s gone.”
“This case is getting to you?” I guessed.
“It’s chaos. I don’t like chaos.”
I stopped stitching. “I’m making it that way, aren’t I?”
“You aren’t helping.” He didn’t look my way. “I like control, but when you get involved, I’m torn down the middle. I can’t be all-in on my job if half my head’s worried about whether you’re going to do something stupid.”
“Then don’t worry about me. Focus on your job.” If he liked control, he’d never like me any better than he did now. A thorn of disappointment pricked my chest, and I mentally flicked it away.
Jack shifted on the cushion. He dug into his shirt pocket. “I protect and serve. That makes you my job, especially since you seem to need more protection than everyone else combined.” He held a closed fist out. “Her
e.”
“What is it?”
“Open your hand, and I’ll give it to you.”
I set my work aside and uncurled my fingers. I searched his face for some clue about the gift, unable to imagine what he might have for me that fit into one hand.
He placed a small pink whistle on my palm. “I assume you haven’t gotten your own yet.”
A strange emotion tugged in my chest. “Thank you.”
“Yep.” He turned his face back to the ceiling and kicked off his boots.
I relaxed beside him. The little whistle had a tiny daisy on each side with white petals and bright-yellow centers. “I really don’t have a plan, and right before you knocked, I said I wanted to include you in whatever I came up with.”
He turned his face my way. “Well, let’s hear what you’ve got so far.”
“Yeah?”
“Why not.” He sighed and dragged himself into an upright position. “I’ve done all I can do for today on the Annie Lane case, which wasn’t much. I had some unrelated news I’d planned to share with you over coffee tomorrow morning.” He lifted an eyebrow, possibly waiting to see how long I could stand it before he finished that story.
“You go first.”
“You’re in at Grandpa Smacker. The board’s excited about a potential new product line, and they’re available to hear your pitch next week.” Pride lifted his words.
“Next week? That’s great.” Was he proud of himself? Of me? “Thank you for letting me help you.” The words were out before I’d considered them. He’d finally let me in.
Jack waved me off. His warm expression loosened the tension in my shoulders. “Your turn. What are you up to that caused Chase Hawthorne to phone me?”
I toiled over the best way to begin. I was enjoying the look in his eyes too much to ruin it by delivering bad news, which was what he considered all my plans to be.
“Lacy?” He spoke my name slowly, using his luscious southern drawl to its full advantage. If that wasn’t enough, he locked me in the most sincere and powerful look I’d ever seen him wear.
