by Patti Larsen
Daisy nodded, dismal expression pulling her full mouth down. “I know,” she whispered.
Rose patted her arm, smiling for real now, too much satisfaction in her expression for her continuing health and safety if I got my hands around her neck. Any second now. “There, there, Daisy,” she said. “Admitting you’re not up to the task is always the best, isn’t it? Do you feel better?” I was feeling rather murderous, personally, while Daisy bobbed a nod. “I’m happy to take the weight off your shoulders,” Rose went on while alarm bells sounded in my head and my chest tightened so far I was positive I wouldn’t be able to take my next breath. “It’ll be okay. You’ll see. We’ll just tell Fiona in the morning.”
“Tell Fiona what?” Yeah, that came out as a rough growl akin to the pending attack of a vengeful she wolf about to pounce on her prey. Snarl.
Daisy almost leaped from her skin, spinning with a shocked expression to face me, Rose looking about as surprised and barely hiding a flash of worry that crossed her face. Probably because I more than likely looked ready to take her head off and toss it in the koi pond for Fat Benny to nibble.
No, forget it. I wouldn’t poison my fish with her tainted flesh. Maybe a shallow, cold grave where the coyotes would find her.
“Fee!” Daisy wavered, looked like she wanted to come to me, eyes huge, but Rose’s hand never left her arm and now I could see it wasn’t just a touch but a grasp, an iron grip. On just her bicep or on her soul? Since she didn’t pull away and come to me I could only guess both while my heart plummeted to my shoes. “Are you okay? Rose told me about Lester.”
And yet, no rushing to my side to hug me, her gray eyes hollow and her own heart not in her sympathy, I could tell. I grunted my disgust and glared at Rose before returning my gaze to Daisy who looked beaten while I wondered what the hell just happened to the vibrant, amazing woman I adored.
“I’m fine,” I said, crisp, angry, crossing the kitchen and purposely getting between them. Rose took a hasty couple of steps back, her foot catching Petunia’s toes. I hadn’t seen my pug lurking, though of course she had been, her favorite when anyone was in the kitchen. Though Rose looked quickly contrite and offered the dog an awkward pat on the head like she’d rather do anything else, considering her boyfriend had almost killed Petunia earlier today her attempt at an apology wasn’t buying her any kind of leeway with me. I turned to Daisy, cutting Rose out of the conversation completely, treating her like a plant or a piece of furniture while I faced down my slightly trembling best friend with the kind of expression I normally reserved for Crew when I was pissed at him.
Too much? Maybe, but again, the day I’d had? Yeah.
“Tell Fee what?” I repeated the question, softly, without anger at least but enough intensity Daisy blinked, glancing over my shoulder at Rose who inhaled to speak. I waved her off with an upraised hand, sitting in the silence a moment, still staring at Daisy before my best friend finally met my eyes again. Only for an instant before dropping her gray gaze to the floor as she spoke.
“I was going to ask you if it would be okay to make Rose a more permanent part of Petunia’s and the annex,” she said, voice soft, wavering. “To help me with the event planning and the staff.”
I should have been surprised. Wasn’t. Though the need to choke her and shake her and ask her what the hell was wrong with her devoured me to the point I had no choice but to inhale. Exhale. And force the kind of response that might do more damage than good.
“No.” End of conversation. “Now, I’m going to bed.”
Rose spluttered, Daisy holding her back, while my pug followed me out through the swinging door, the only witness to me swearing softly under my breath all the way down to my apartment where I took a few minutes to privately scream into a pillow instead of going upstairs again to commit murder.
One death in town at a time was enough for today.
***
Chapter Thirteen
Morning broke, my alarm blaring at me at the usual 6AM wakeup, though I wasn’t exactly in the mood to rise and shine. Considering I’d spent the majority of the night tossing and turning and arguing with multiple people who only existed in my head—hello, straight jacket, padded room and three shots a day—it was a wonder I wasn’t a walking zombie by the time I emerged, grumpy and blinking into the bright Sunday summer morning, into the foyer of Petunia’s. My pug was equally quiet, though her reserved behavior shifted the moment we entered the kitchen and found Mom stirring something that smelled delicious enough to break me out of my funk. The pug waddled and wiggled her way to Mom’s feet where my darling mother and partner promptly handed over a small plate with a serving of fruit and freshly cooked hamburger for the hungry pug.
“Spoiled,” I muttered, helping myself to coffee.
Mom took one look at me, her spoon raised over the pot of simmering oatmeal that almost smelled like Christmas thanks to the cinnamon wafting my way, her green eyes tight. “You really need to stop finding dead bodies,” she said. “They’re bad for your complexion.”
I rolled my eyes and went in for a hug which she offered instantly, cooing soothing sounds while she kissed my cheek before letting me go.
“I’m sorry I didn’t rush over last night,” she said. “I shouldn’t have listened to your father.” She set down her spoon and cupped my cheeks in her hands, looking me over with more care, her attempt at humor gone with her usual Momness washing over me and making me feel better. “He said you were fine, that he was taking care of talking to Dr. Aberstock for Crew.”
I nodded, leaning against the counter, sighing. “Mom, do you think I’m cursed?”
She laughed, soft and kind, patting my cheeks before letting me go. “Silly,” she said, “it’s just bad luck, sweetie. I do wish it would stop happening to you. But this is a small town and you’re a big part of it. So it’s not so surprising to me you stumble on these things.” She returned to her spoon. “You and your father, both with that nose for crime. Makes you a magnet, Fee, not a victim of a curse.”
I guess she was right. Funny how finding the body was taking second seat to my anxiety over Daisy, though. Priorities, yeah? I quickly and quietly filled her in on what I’d witnessed the night before, Daisy’s shift back into her old lack of confidence, worse than ever, actually. Mom’s jaw tightened, her head bobbing an almost endless nod until I finished. After which she set down her spoon again so roughly the small plastic drip catcher rattled with the force of her motion.
“I haven’t said anything to her directly,” Mom said, “but I’ve been witnessing the same thing, Fee, on far too regular a basis. And I don’t like it one bit. Yes, Rose is family, but honestly.” She huffed a breath, her redhead temper firing up just as mine had, though Mom was usually better at hiding hers. Good to know I had her on my side in this mess. “We really need to corner Daisy and have a solid heart-to-heart.”
Awesome. “Exactly,” I said. “Let’s do that, okay? Sooner rather than later?”
“This morning.” Mom nodded sharply then beamed a smile at me like making that decision actually fixed the matter before it was even addressed. Well, if she was so confident I’d do my best to be as well if only to present a really solid united front when we talked Daisy down from the ledge of Rose she was standing so precariously on.
And no way—NO WAY—would I ever let someone like Rose take any kind of responsibility. With Mom on my side, two partners against one? Relief gave me the lift I needed and I found myself finally relaxing long enough to yawn through the realization I was tired from my lack of sleep and had a huge day ahead anyway.
Great. Still. Progress.
When I told Mom about Doreen, though, she immediately flinched, her face tightening into worry for her friend as thoughts of Daisy and Rose left my caring mother. “I’ll head over to see her right after breakfast,” she said, fretting herself while I hugged her around her shoulders, leaning my cheek into her hair, remembering the distance there had been between us only a short time ago, a dista
nce created by my mother’s own walk down the path of self-recrimination and doubt. If anyone could convince Daisy to come back to us it would be Mom.
“You’re awesome,” I whispered, surprised to find I was choking up.
She paused, squeezed my arm with one hand, leaning into me, too. “I love you, Fee. Now,” her brusque professionalism returned, flashing smile all Lucy Fleming, “I have a horde to feed in the next little while and a ton of food to prepare. Shoo!”
I hustled, mood lifted despite my weariness, Petunia staying with Mom while I made my rounds. With all rooms full it was a busy morning of finishing laundry the staff started yesterday, restocking closets with linens, checking and cleaning communal areas and finally paperwork. Daisy arrived shortly after 7AM, though she avoided me, hurrying past the front desk with a small smile in my direction, head down as she rushed to join Mom. Rose wasn’t with her, so I let Daisy go. We’d be talking to her shortly, and I wasn’t in a hurry to confront my bestie alone anyway.
I took my usual morning break and paced my apartment for twenty minutes, knowing Crew wouldn’t be calling like he’d failed to call last night despite his usual contact. His short, unhelpful message weighed on me and left me frustrated. When I emerged from downstairs I was about as agitated as possible, though I did my best to hide it as I exited through the kitchen door on my way across the property.
With Petunia’s handled, I headed outside to the now expansive garden, crossing the bridge on my way to the annex. The carriage house would have to wait until the guests were out for the day for restock. I’d leave that to the staff when they did their cleaning rounds after 9AM. The morning sun washed over the pond beneath me, the chubby, bright bodies of the koi within swimming lazy paths beneath the pretty wooden structure. Jared’s last project had turned out perfectly, the dark wood smooth and heavy, the boards of the bridge solid under my feet. I loved the curved feel of the railing, the way the sun heated and made it feel almost alive under my hands. Though it only took three or four strides to cross, the bridge felt bigger, metaphorically, anyway. Like crossing from my old life to my new every time I set foot on it.
Making that crossing finished the job Mom started, my heart light and my thoughts on the day rather than my worries. I was almost to the back door of the annex when I heard someone calling my name, a familiar voice that turned me around with a smile and open arms. Dad caught up with me, hugging me tight, rocking me a little, the strong, firm embrace so familiar and comforting I exhaled in a final release of tension before looking up at him with a grin.
“Guess I have a thing for dead bodies,” I said.
Dad winked down at me, blue eyes sparkling. “Did you scream?”
“Like a little girl,” I laughed.
“Get a good look?” Just like the former sheriff to ask.
“Close enough,” I said, shuddering.
“Anything stand out?” That was Dad, all right.
I thought about it a moment then shrugged. “It was pretty dark. All the lights down the dock were out.” Broken or dead? I hadn’t thought to check. “Did you talk to Dr. Aberstock?”
Dad grunted something then shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Tried,” he said. “Robert was there, being an ass.” My father’s whole body tensed, jaw clenching. “Guess he’s not so happy about the trouble I’ve been making for him since I left office.”
Crew had mentioned Dad was giving my cousin a hard time. “Like he doesn’t deserve it.” Shoddy police work should have been grounds for firing him. Why he was still even in uniform, let alone acting sheriff…
Dad didn’t comment, didn’t have to. “Whatever his reasons, it put the brakes on my questions last night. But I’m going to pop over to Doc’s office today and buy him a coffee.”
Worked for me. And saved me asking the doctor myself. Yes, I was going to investigate this case, thank you very much. At least until Crew managed to get his butt back here and take over. Or someone told me definitively it wasn’t murder. No way was I letting Robert mess things up.
Which raised an interesting question I posed to Dad on impulse. “What’s with Geoffrey, anyway?” My father’s bushy eyebrows raised in response. “It’s like he’s playing both sides or something.” I told him what happened, about his support of Robert in public before he came to me privately. Dad’s gaze narrowed, a flash of anger showing, and I wondered just what he knew he wasn’t telling me. He was like that, still protective enough he hid things from me despite the fact I was a grown-ass woman who could take care of herself. Sheesh.
This time, though, instead of stonewalling like he usually did, Dad spoke up. “He’s been up to something since he took his seat.” My father’s deep voice had dropped to a low rumble. “I’ve been trying to figure out what, but so far he’s keeping his plans to himself. Whatever it is, it’s not good for you, Fee.” Dad’s worry translated into his big hand touching my cheek before returning to his pocket, almost as if he was holding himself back from hugging me again, this time out of protective instinct. “Just do your best to stay out of his way. I’m doing what I can to keep Olivia afloat, meanwhile, and the Patterson interests from screwing up our town.”
I wanted to ask him point blank what he was talking about, but Dad cleared his throat and straightened his broad shoulders, lips twisting into a little grin full of mischief. Which meant he had his own plan in mind. And wanted me in on it. I already had yes on my lips when he asked.
“Speaking of our mayor,” he said, “I have an appointment to talk to her about the sheriff situation. Want to come with me?”
Um, double yup with a shot of are you freaking kidding, of course. Because I was a Fleming, after all.
***
Chapter Fourteen
I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to find Jill, dressed in her deputy’s uniform, entering town hall ahead of us. Even without her gun belt around her narrow hips and the telltale khaki shirt over jeans she favored, I would have recognized that blonde ponytail bobbing against her back anywhere. When I called out to her she jerked around, looking startled and then, oddly, guilty as Dad and I crossed the small parking lot beside the building to join her.
Was it just me or did she have a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming freight train look that made me nervous? She smiled at Dad, then at me, not really meeting my eyes as we came to a halt next to her. Jill’s knuckles were white where she clasped the handle of the entry door, the set of her broader than most women’s shoulders telling me she wasn’t comfortable with this meeting. All of which boiled down to something I didn’t want to know but really, really had to ask.
“Jill,” I said without preamble or niceties usually involved in saying hello to someone who’s been gone a few days, “where’s Crew?”
Dad cleared his throat and interrupted before the flush on her face could turn any brighter than it already had. “Conference okay?”
Jill seemed grateful for the deflect while I glared at Dad for interfering. What did he know that I didn’t? If he had info on Crew’s whereabouts—and the strange woman on the other end of his phone—I wanted to know about it. Didn’t I? On the other hand, shame on me for jumping to inappropriate conclusions. Mind you, I had precedence in my past, enough to make me anxious about the possibilities. My ex and his cheating, for example. Yeah, big example. Still, Crew had never given me reason to doubt his sincerity or the fact he wanted to be with me and me alone. For all I knew, there was a perfectly logical and non-other woman explanation for the sheriff’s absence and silence.
Trying not to play the crazy jilted woman card when I had no idea if that was the case or not, I held my tongue and my temper while Jill responded.
“You know, John,” she said, false brightness in her voice. “Too much talking for my liking.”
He grinned, nodded, gestured at the door which she pulled open with extra enthusiasm, gesturing for both of us to go ahead of her. I entered the cool dimness of the stone and dark wood paneled lobby, still under firm control and un
sure how long that would last.
“I hear you,” Dad said, voice carrying in a faint echo in the quiet of the front entry to town hall. “Great place to make connections, though.”
Jill spluttered a moment while I turned to face her, eyebrow raised. Was that what happened? Did Crew “make a connection” and Jill didn’t want to tell me about it?
She averted her eyes from mine before we could really connect. “I guess,” she said. “Shouldn’t keep the mayor waiting, right?”
“You were invited to this meeting?” Dad didn’t sound surprised, now following the tall blonde deputy to the right and up the wooden stairs to the second floor offices. I ignored the pair of young women giving a tour to a small group of tourists, keeping my arms tight at my sides, wanting to shake Jill for not giving me the answer I was looking for right now, damn it.
Jill glanced back over her shoulder, speaking directly to Dad, sounding worried, now. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” she said. “Though from the sounds of things it wouldn’t have mattered anyway.”
As in, she wouldn’t have been offered the acting sheriff position. I wasn’t surprised there, though as far as I was concerned Robert’s tenuous connection to Dad and the fact our town, for some dumb reason, preferred to have even a nephew of their former sheriff in the primary law enforcement roll, was about as bad a choice as anyone in this crazy place had ever made. Jill was a million times the cop my cousin pretended to be.
We turned left at the top of the steps, approaching the large double glass doors that led to the mayor’s office, the grand entry rather ostentatious as far as I was concerned for a small town officiant’s place of work. Not that I got a say or anything. Dad didn’t knock, opening the first door and letting himself into the reception area, the perky young man at the desk looking a bit harried as he nodded to us. I nodded back, not really feeling it but attempting to at least pretend to be a well-adjusted member of society while my constricting heart beat a bit too heavily in my chest. Hugh Farcourt’s black, horn-rimmed glasses caught the light as he placed one slim hand over the receiver of the phone he cradled between his clean shaven cheek and narrow suited shoulder, gesturing for us to go inside with a mouthed, “She’s waiting,” looking like a warning.
