Shades of Stars (Lola Pink Mysteries Book 2)

by Gina LaManna

  My spine went rigid. “Mr. Reynolds, Todd and Rachel Harrington have been married for nearly ten years.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I decorated the place myself just last week. I think they’ll have some firecracker children though, what with his red hair and her temper.”

  He was right; they would have feisty kids. In fact, Rachel and Todd had three feisty kids aged six, four, and two. They lived down the street from Mrs. Fredericks, and we often had to fight them over the cookie jar. And by fight, of course I meant share.

  “So, can we look over the barn?” I asked him. “Do I need a key? If the space works, of course we’ll pay.”

  “We’ll pay very well,” Mr. Clark said. “You have my word.”

  “Go on and look, no keys necessary. I left the door unlocked when I milked the cows,” he said, waving a hand. “I have to get back to my show, now.” Mr. Reynolds turned to the infomercial blaring on the television, dismissing us with a flick of his wrist.

  “Cows?” Dane asked. “At a charity gala?”

  “There haven’t been cows here since I was twelve years old,” I said with a sigh. I stood up, squeezing Mr. Reynolds on the shoulder. He barely moved, focused on the flexing biceps in the infomercial on screen. “Let’s go,” I said to Dane. “It’s worth a look while we’re here.”

  “Is he going to be okay?” Dane asked. “Should I call someone to care for him? I don’t like leaving him here alone.”

  I already had my phone out and pulled up the number for Anita Reynolds. “I’ll call his daughter,” I said quietly. “She lives across the street.”

  After a brief conversation in which Anita thanked me, then agreed to come right over, I glanced up at Dane. While I had Anita on the phone, I asked her about the barn.

  “My dad is right about one thing,” Anita said, “the door is unlocked. Though it hasn’t been in use for over a year, so it’s probably a bit of a mess. If you want it, you can use the space for your event—we don’t even need a fee. You’ll just want to fix it up a bit, and that’ll be payment enough.”

  “Thanks so much, Anita,” I said. “We’ll let you know.”

  “I’ll be at my dad’s—you know where to reach me if you have any questions. And Lola, is it a wedding we should be expecting?”

  “No,” I said, my voice catching as I glanced at Dane. “A charity event. Thanks again, Anita.” When I hung up the phone, I smiled at Dane. “Ready?”

  He slipped his fingers through mine, wordlessly giving my hand a squeeze as we made our way through the pastures behind the house and toward the ancient barn. Seeing as we’d already exhausted the rest of Melinda’s suggestions, if this one didn’t work, we’d be in serious trouble.

  “OH, no,” I said, once we’d pried the huge, dusty doors back from the front of the barn. “No, no, no! Everything is wrong!”

  “It’s not wrong,” Dane said sounding unconvinced. “It’s just not right.”

  Before us sat an open space the size of a ballroom. The size of it, however, was the only thing that worked. A mouse, and then something larger, skittered across the floor at the beam of light. The floor was pure dirt—dusty, uneven piles of the stuff with tufts of grass poking out from every available crack and crevice. The roof undoubtedly leaked when it rained. Even now, in the daylight, sun dripped through tiny fissures where the rafters didn’t quite meet.

  “It’s got a nice...” Dane trailed off. Apparently, he couldn’t find any redeeming qualities either. And he was too honest to lie. So, he just stood there in silence, not saying anything at all.

  I patted him on the shoulder. “Thank you for trying to make this work, but you can be honest. It’s a mess.”

  There were enough cobwebs around us to stuff a pillowcase full of them, and I dared not imagine what sort of creatures and critters hid in the darkest corners. Maybe ten years ago this place had been beautiful. If I wasn’t mistaken, an old strand of lights hung from the rafters, and I could imagine a glittering ballroom floor where now there were only ruins. I suspected that even the slightest whiff of electricity through these wires would send the place up in flames.

  I had nothing left to say. I turned to Dane, refusing to cry. I’d failed, and it would be best for all of us if I gave up on my stubbornness and let a professional with real connections—not just a hairdresser who gave surprisingly delicious perms—sort out the details for the charity gala. But I couldn’t say the words yet, so I let my head fall to Dane’s chest—his solid, perfect chest—and let the frustration wash over me.

  Clearly Dane wasn’t used to girls collapsing on his chest, so he just stood there, hands at his sides, expression straight forward. His breathing moved to an erratic sort of pace, and I could sense his nervousness and discomfort at the whole situation.

  “Dane,” I instructed. “I need a hug.”

  When he didn’t move, I helped him out. I lifted one of his hands and guided it behind my back, then the other. He kept his hands situated there as I rested my head against his chest.

  “Good,” I said. “Now squeeze, and don’t let go. Don’t stop until I tell you to stop.”

  Dane did as he was told, bringing me into a warm embrace. With each passing second, he loosened up somewhat, and by the time a full minute had passed, we stood in a real, true squeeze.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered against my hair. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out, but it’s not your fault. I can hire someone.”

  “Maybe,” I said on a sigh. “I’m not cut out for the job. I hate to disappoint—”

  “Lola!” His shout interrupted my apology as a resounding crack sounded over us—a rafter collapsing in two, probably shaken from its perilous position above us by the footsteps below.

  As I looked upward, the wooden plank began a downward trajectory that promised to flatten us both. I froze, unable to move as the thick piece of wood hurtled straight at my head—I couldn’t scream, couldn’t cry, couldn’t move.

  Until I let out an oomph, my breath leaving me in a whoosh as Dane dove with me, pushing my body toward the floor while circling his arms around my torso. He rolled away just as the log crashed to the ground next to us with a resounding thud that shook the very foundations of the barn.

  The silence that followed was deafening.

  “Dane,” I whispered a second later. “Dane!”

  He lay on top of my body, squishing me in a most delicious sort of way, the scent of his crisp, pine-scented cologne mixing with the dusty layers of the outdoors.

  However, he didn’t respond. “Dane,” I said, my voice turning panicky. “Mr. Dane Clark, are you okay?”

  “Fine,” he grunted a second later, but it was then that I caught sight of him hunched in pain as he struggled to lift himself off me. He grasped his shoulder, and it was only once we were sitting up and I’d peeled back the layers of his shirt that I realized what had happened.

  “It hit you,” I said. “The beam clipped your shoulder as it fell.”

  “I’m fine,” he said, holding his arm across his body. “But I vote no on this place.”

  I stifled a laugh. “Of all times to start joking, you pick this one?”

  “I learn from the best,” he said with a pain-riddled smile. “What do you say we head home?”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said, resting a hand on his good shoulder as I struggled to figure out how to help him stand. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. If I was a professional, I wouldn’t have—”

  “Lola, stop,” he said, his voice a thin line of concentrated effort. “This has been the best afternoon I’ve had in a long while. I enjoy spending time with you. Next time, let’s avoid dilapidated buildings.”

  He leaned forward, a soft hiss as he adjusted his arm and then pressed his lips to mine. There was more emotion in this one kiss than in all the kisses added up over my lifetime. Hot, needy, and a bit possessive, it consumed us. I sank into him, my arms slipping around his neck until he recoiled with a hint of pain on his face.

&nbs
p; “I’d love to continue,” he said, gritting his teeth. “But my arm is killing me. Rain check?”

  I swallowed, dazed from the lingering effects of his lips on mine. “Oh, of course. Yes. Um, let’s go.”

  He took my hand, and we carefully picked our way over the fallen rafter and across the broken floor. As we moved, I glanced over at Dane, hating to ask my next questions, but knowing they’d come up sooner or later. If not for me, then from the police. While I’d hesitated to ruin a nice afternoon together with talk of Andrea’s murder, the tone had already shifted with our own near brush with death, so I dove right in.

  “I hate to change the subject, but I might have an update on Andrea’s murder investigation,” I said, striving for casual as we freed ourselves from the shadows of the barn. “Earlier today I spoke with Andrea’s ex-boyfriend. He seemed to think she was dating someone at the castle.”

  “Really? Who? She didn’t come around except for our business activities. At least, not that I knew of.”

  I looked carefully at him. “He seemed to think the man was you.”

  Dane shook his head. “Lola, I told you. We were nothing except acquaintances. I swear to you.”

  “I know, I believe you—it’s just...I wonder why he’d think that.” I frowned deeper. “Did he really fall for the pictures in the media? If not, do you think it’s possible she actually was interested in someone at the mansion? If so, that someone might have had access to your paperweight!”

  “I don’t know.” Dane’s mouth turned into a grim line. “Tomorrow is Andrea’s funeral. Come with me. I think it might be interesting to see who shows up.”

  “Who are you expecting to show up?”

  “I am not sure,” he said, his eyes falling icy on mine. “But if someone loved Andrea—don’t you think they’d want to say goodbye?”

  Chapter 14

  “COME HELP, IT’S AN emergency.” Richard’s voice rolled like a clap of thunder through my cell phone, and I had to pull it back from my ear to avoid damage to my brain tissue. “Lola, please. I need to talk to you in person.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “What’s everything about?” he asked. “Love.”

  I glanced over at Dane, who after spending the last hour and a half convincing me that he had recovered from his near-death experience with the fallen beam had tuned into a conference call back at the castle. “You have a love emergency?”

  “You could say that. Please. Meet me at The Lost Leprechaun—food and drinks on me. It’s urgent.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You’re an angel, Lola.”

  I had to admit that after a very long day of doing nothing but failing: failing to choose a venue for the charity ball, failing to keep Annalise out of harm’s way, failing as a friend and co-worker to Dane Clark, it was nice to hear from someone convinced I had advice left to offer.

  “Feel free to leave—I can handle the rest of the evening on my own,” Dane said, putting the phone on mute while a clipped English accent continued speaking in the background. “I’ll see you in the morning. If you need a ride, get Semi or Gerard.”

  I nodded, waved, and shut the door behind me before sneaking downstairs to see if Mrs. Dulcet had any leftover food I could snag for dinner. Thankfully she did, and I stashed the leftovers in my purse before hopping into the back of Semi’s SUV and giving him GPS directions to the family owned Irish pub on the Sunshine Shore. He promised to wait outside while I made quick work of my meeting at The Lost Leprechaun.

  “You made it!” Richard said as I pushed open the door. “I thought you’d never come. I called you ages ago.”

  He’d called me no more than twenty minutes before, but I didn’t correct him. I was too busy taking in the rich mahogany wood that covered every surface of this place. Oak barrels provided the base for quaint cocktail tables in the center of the room, while stools made from deep colored wood sat behind a slab of thick stone that served as the bar.

  Behind the counter were several taps, a variety of fancy mugs, and a window through to a small kitchen in the back. When I looked the other way, I found long picnic-style tables in a room the size of Mr. Reynolds’s barn.

  A few people mingled at the tables, hopping from one to the next and chatting within groups as a series of small tasting glasses were placed before them. By the time I turned back to the bar, Richard had poured three small glasses of beer.

  “No, thanks,” I said, pushing the flight away and sliding onto a stool. “I really can’t stay long. What’s the emergency?”

  “I need to run something by you,” he said. “Do you remember how I told you I’m versed in profanity?”

  “Too clearly.”

  “Well, I think I did it. I wrote a poem for my Stephanie, and I even cut out all of the bad words. Every damn one of them.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded, a proud expression on his face. “I’d like to read it to you. I’ve gotta test it on you before I give it to Stephanie to make sure it’s respectful enough.”

  “This is your emergency? Why didn’t you read it to me over the phone?”

  Richard scratched his head, wrinkled his nose, and then shrugged. “I guess that would have made sense. You should’ve told me that before—it’s a little late to change plans now, ain’t it?”

  I rolled my eyes, then gestured for him to get moving. I waited as he pulled a wrinkled sheet of paper from his shirt pocket. With a colossal clearing of his throat, Richard put one leg onto the step behind the bar, braced himself, and began with gusto.

  Dear Stephanie.

  I love to see—

  When you look at me.

  You look so cute in your blue hat,

  and I don’t think that you are fat.

  I love you with all my heart,

  I’ll buy you a ring from Kmart.

  If you want—

  “Halt!” I said before he could continue. Then without explanation I reached over, grabbed his note, and ripped it in half. I gave him the top half and then crumpled up the bottom half, popped it in one of the spare glasses of water, and then swirled it around. “You can’t say the word fat in a love poem.”

  “I thought it was endearing,” he said. “I was going for cute.”

  “The first part is sort of cute, but that’s about it.”

  “I’m not going to lie, I think this is going to work.” Richard trembled with excitement as he viewed the half sheet of paper. “I feel like I’m on top of the world. I’m going to break into her house and leave this on her pillow.”

  “Nope—try again.”

  “I’m going to break into her house and leave this on her kitchen table.”

  “Try again.”

  “I’m going to break into her—”

  “Try again.”

  “Oh!” It finally dawned on Richard. “I’m going to knock on her front door and not break into her house.”

  “Ding, ding, ding.”

  “You’re the best,” he said. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you into having a beer on the house? My dad wouldn’t be happy if I didn’t offer a friend of mine a free sampler.”

  “Does your dad own this place?”

  He nodded. “I’m technically Richard Junior. My dad is Richard Senior. He goes by Dick or Big Richard.”

  “So, ah, Richard Junior,” I hesitated. “Does Big Richard ever host events in here?”

  “Oh sure. We watch soccer matches and serve beer, we host bachelorette parties and serve beer, we host Bingo and serve beer—we can do whatever you want.”

  “With a side of beer.”

  “You catch on, lady.”

  “What about a charity event?”

  “I don’t need charity,” Richard said. “I might not have as much money as Donald Trump, but I’m doing okay.”

  “What if I paid you good money to rent this place for...let’s call it a big party. A very classy party.”

  “Let me talk to Big Richard,” he said. “My dad
’s away on business, but he’ll be back tomorrow.”

  “Great,” I said. “You know where to find me.”

  “You haven’t tasted the beer yet,” he said, gesturing to the flight before me. “Take a sip.”

  I leaned in, took the smallest of gulps, and gave a nod of approval. “Perfect.”

  “Stephanie’s perfect,” Richard said dreamily. “And I’m going to tell her how I feel with this poem tonight. I owe you, Lola. I owe you big time. Anything I can do for you, just let me know.”

  “Okay, sure thing, Richard.”

  It’d been a long day, and I needed time to think after hearing Richard’s poem. The evening had turned into a beautiful one, so I told Semi to head back to the castle. I wanted to walk.

  I took the beach path and made my way toward Psychic in Pink, and I was so wrapped up in my own head that I didn’t hear Babs approach from behind. I jumped as she called out hello.

  “Sorry,” she said, catching up to me. “You seem on edge. How are you doing? What happened today? Annalise didn’t get around to filling me in and, oh, Lola—you got the perm. It looks incredible! How did that happen? Your hair actually has some bounce to it!”

  I grinned, then filled Babs in on my day as we walked. “I don’t know what part of the day ranks worse: Ryan almost clocking Annalise in the head with the vase or Dane getting hit with the rafter.”

  “Well, it sure wasn’t the perm,” Babs said, toying with the ends of my hair. “Melinda did a great job.”

  “Hold on, where are you coming from?” I asked, suddenly noticing Bab’s extra red lipstick and extra-dark eye liner. “You did your makeup differently.”

  “I got asked on a date last minute, so I had to spruce up with whatever I had in my purse,” she said, puckering her lips. “Johnny and I grabbed coffee. He found me at the office working late and bought me a cappuccino from Dungeons and Donuts. He’s fantastic—he asked me out on an official date tomorrow.” She clapped her hands, twirled, and stared at the sky before coming back to earth. “What about you? Any word from Dane on the love life?”