The Plane and the Parade (Veronica Barry Book 3)

by Sophia Martin

  Veronica twisted Harry’s leash around her hand. “We had breakfast,” she said, trying to hide the anxiety that flared at the mention of dinner. “It’s okay if you need to work.”

  “Work doesn’t have to interfere with a nice dinner with you. We hardly talked about anything but the case at breakfast.”

  “It’s a really important case, Daniel,” she said. “I’m okay with you putting in a little overtime.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said. “But I really want to have dinner with you, Ronnie. I have something I want to ask you.”

  Oh god, oh god, oh god. “Okay,” she said. “We’ll have dinner tonight. Unless you get really busy. Then it can be tomorrow night, right?”

  “Deal,” he said. “I’ll call you later.”

  ~~~

  Aside from hoping Daniel caught a lead in the case—a hope that grew primarily from a wish to avoid the horror she’d seen in her dream, although his having to delay the dinner would be a nice bonus—Veronica had nothing else to do that Sunday. She spent the morning on some much needed tidying up and dish-washing, two pastimes she always left undone as long as she could avoid them. By noon she was thoroughly sick of housework. She snapped Harry’s leash to his collar and they hopped in the car together, heading to Folsom Lake.

  Thinking about her horrible dream was upsetting and useless—she had gone over and over it with Daniel and any detail she’d failed to remember was gone forever by now, so she did her best to put it out of her mind. Instead, on the drive to the lake she pondered the Eric-Daniel conundrum. However, by the time she’d finished the half-hour drive she was royally sick of that problem, too. If Daniel did take her out to dinner, she decided, she would preempt any proposals with full disclosure about Eric, and maybe that would make Daniel think twice about asking her to marry him. Problem solved.

  The solution actually started to grow on her as she stomped through the sandy dirt of the Folsom shoreline, watching Harry barrel into the water at top speed. The Aussie shepherd loved water the way Labradors did, although his swimming skills were no match for theirs. Seeing him so happy gave Veronica a deep sense of well-being—and it assuaged her near constant guilt that Harry hardly ever got a really long, satisfying walk. At least now, for the next two hours or so, Harry would get out every ya-ya he had stored up from weeks of leashed walks-around the block, or at best, around McKinley Park. Meanwhile, Veronica stopped worrying about the men in her life and turned her thoughts to Melanie’s situation.

  Telling Melanie about her own worries had distracted her friend for while, but Melanie was bound to get all wound up again in short order. What she needed, Veronica decided, was a regular appointment with some sort of stress-release. It might not solve the problems that this baby was going to present, but maybe if Melanie could find some time for herself, some time to relax, she’d be more ready to confront those problems head on. And she wouldn’t be tempted to repaint the living room.

  A yoga class would do it. Veronica was reasonably sure she could find a good prenatal yoga class somewhere in Midtown. Knowing Melanie, she’d claim she was far too busy to go. Veronica would just have to go with her, dragging her along if necessary, at least the first few times.

  Well, Veronica thought, I should come to Folsom more often. I’ve solved both my man-troubles and now I’ve got a good idea for helping Melanie. If only the magic of Folsom would drop the name of the murderer in my lap, too, I’d have all my business handled.

  When Harry had thoroughly soaked himself at least a half a dozen times and they had walked no less than four miles, Veronica decided that she would see if Melanie had already eaten lunch. She speed-dialed her.

  “Hey,” Melanie answered.

  “Hey, how’s it going today?”

  “Oh, fine I guess. I have a headache. But then, I used to get headaches when I was expecting Angie. Which I’d forgotten about until now.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  “I had a bowl of cereal at eleven.”

  “I’m at Folsom. I could be at your place in forty minutes. You want to have lunch?”

  “Penny Coffee sounds nice. Angie wouldn’t stop talking about the potato bisque after you treated her.”

  “Meet you there instead?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll be there at two thirty.”

  ~~~

  Melanie stood in line at the counter when Veronica came in.

  “Hi,” Melanie said as Veronica approached.

  “Hey,” Veronica answered. “You okay with sitting outside? I can get Harry out of the car and tie his leash to one of the chairs while we eat.”

  “Sure. I wouldn’t want poor Harry to bake in the car the whole time.”

  “Thanks.”

  Melanie came to the front and ordered the soup and an iced tea from a young male barista with lots of earrings and a tribal neck tattoo. “I hope the tea will offset the heat of the soup,” she said to Veronica. “I can’t not get the soup after the way Ange went on and on, but it’s got to be ninety-five degrees out there.”

  Veronica nodded. Melanie turned back to the counter to pay.

  “I’ll have an iced mint green tea,” Veronica told the barista when Melanie was done, “and a veggie sandwich. And some macaroni salad.”

  “No meat for you today?” Melanie asked.

  “It’s like you said, it’s so hot out. I just want light food.”

  The barista finished ringing her up, and Veronica found her debit card in her wallet. As she handed it to the barista, her vision swam. The card, normally a navy blue, became red, and then gold. On the red card she caught a name, “Antoine Jossey,” but the gold swam out of focus immediately, and she didn’t see it clearly enough to make out a name.

  The card was as blue as it had always been, and she was holding on to it tightly as the barista tried to take it from her. She gave a nervous laugh and released it. “Sorry—thought I was giving you the wrong one there for a second.” The barista raised a pierced eyebrow but said nothing, running her card.

  Melanie put a hand on Veronica’s forearm. “You okay? You looked a little out of it for a second.”

  “Vision,” Veronica whispered back.

  “Oh!” Melanie gasped. “You need to sit down?”

  “No, I’m fine. But I better call Daniel.”

  As soon as they set down their plates on the table outside, Veronica gave Melanie the keys to her car so she could rescue Harry, while Veronica put in a call to Daniel.

  “It’s always nice to see your name on the caller ID, Ronnie,” he said as soon as he picked up.

  “Did you program it as Veronica or Ronnie?” she asked, although she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

  “Ronnie, of course,” Daniel said. He sang a line from “Be My Baby,” by Ronnie Specter.

  Veronica rolled her eyes but her mouth quirked into a smile.

  “So to what do I owe the honor of this call?” he asked.

  Clearing her voice, Veronica told him, as quietly as possible, about the red credit card with Antoine Jossey’s name on it.

  “What do you think it means?” Daniel asked.

  “I don’t know, but I bet it’s got something to do with the murders.”

  “Maybe it’s the name of the perp,” Daniel said. “I’ll get right on it.”

  “The only other thing is that the card was gold, too, just for a sec, like an American Express card.”

  “That does seem odd. Do you think the spirits didn’t know what his card really looked like? Maybe tried showing you a couple of versions?”

  “I don’t know,” Veronica said. “Just keep it in mind.”

  “Sure thing,” Daniel said. “We’re still on for dinner, right?”

  Veronica pressed her lips together and nodded, although he couldn’t see. “Yes,” she said quickly, to cover her pause. “Yes we are.”

  “Great. Pick you up at seven?”

  Veronica grimaced but with an effort, kept her voice light. “Sounds great.”

&
nbsp; “Okay, see you then.”

  Melanie returned with Harry trotting ahead of her as Veronica put away her phone. Veronica helped maneuver the dog so she could tie his leash to one of the iron chairs. Harry panted happily and Veronica made a mental note to get a cup of water and fill Melanie’s soup bowl with it once she was done eating.

  “You got ahold of Daniel?” Melanie asked.

  “Yep.”

  “What did you see?”

  Veronica explained about the credit cards.

  “Huh,” Melanie said. “That’s pretty odd. You think it really is the name of the murderer?”

  “I don’t know, I’m just hoping it’ll be a good lead,” Veronica said. “So good, maybe it’ll keep Daniel so busy tonight he won’t have time to take me out to dinner.”

  Melanie raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

  “He said he wants to ask me something,” Veronica said.

  Melanie smirked. “Wow, the big question. Still don’t feel ready to deal with that, huh?”

  Sighing, Veronica shook her head. “No, I’ve got a plan. I’m going to tell him all about Eric before he gets to it, and maybe then he’ll decide to wait a bit.”

  Melanie nodded and stirred her bisque. “That might do it. You planning on telling him you still have the shadows of a crush for this guy?”

  Veronica poked at her macaroni salad. “God, I don’t know. No. Probably not. But I am going to tell him I used to have a crush on Eric, and that I hesitated to agree to help him. But the real issue is that dream I had about the plane, anyway.”

  “And if that’s true then I don’t see why Daniel would delay asking you to marry him over it.”

  “You don’t?”

  “No, V. Daniel knows you’re psychic, so it’s not like having yet another vision is going to put him off. And the fact you had a crush on a guy thirteen years ago should come as no surprise. Add to it that you’re so scrupulous about your relationship with Daniel that you almost refused to help this guy find an apartment in Sacramento, and, well, if anything, Daniel’s going to think you’re that committed to him that you’re ready for the big E.”

  “The big E?” Veronica asked as she ate some salad.

  “Engagement.”

  “Dammit.”

  Melanie shrugged and had a mouthful of soup. After a moment, she said, “Why are you so resistant to the idea, anyway, V? I mean, you could say yes and just ask for a long engagement. Test the waters out, see if you burn your toes or whatever. You know, people break engagements every day. You could say yes and not really be in any different a situation than you are now.”

  Exhaling loudly, Veronica shook her head. “That just seems dishonest. I think I should only say yes if I really feel like I could marry him, like, tomorrow. Don’t you think?”

  “You’re being too extreme,” Melanie said. “It doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

  “Did you and Ryan get engaged?” The question left Veronica’s mouth before she thought about it—it wasn’t something she had ever asked before. By the time she met Melanie, the subject of Ryan, Angie’s father, was already a sore one best avoided. Veronica couldn’t believe she’d just brought it up now.

  Melanie gave a slight shrug and had a sip of tea. She didn’t seem perturbed. “No, although we did talk about marriage. But it was always something we were going to do in a few years. We were only together for two years, you know. Then I found out I was pregnant and Ryan decided it was time to go back-packing across Europe. At least he sent checks… pretty regularly. He’s only got a couple more years to go on that. I wonder if he’ll stay in touch with Angie at all, or if she’ll just go through her whole life without a dad.”

  Veronica squeezed Melanie’s forearm.

  “I don’t know how he can do it,” Melanie said. “Just—just miss out on so much. He’s visited her maybe a total of ten times, you know.”

  “He doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Veronica said.

  “Yeah. And I wonder, now, with Chris…”

  “Oh, honey, Chris is not Ryan. Give him some time, he may still come around.”

  “Well, he did call and leave a message yesterday after you left.”

  “He called? And you let him go to voicemail?”

  “Damn straight.”

  With a laugh, Veronica patted Melanie’s arm. “That’s my girl. Have you listened to the message?”

  “Of course, the minute he was done leaving it. It was just ‘Hey Mel. Call you back later.’”

  “Well, it’s a start,” Veronica said, picking up her sandwich.

  “How did we get on this subject, anyway?” Melanie demanded. “We were talking about you.”

  “Oh, I’m so done with that topic. I mean, I’ll just have to deal with the proposal when I’m confronted with it.”

  “You are pretty good at thinking on your feet,” Melanie said.

  From there, their conversation drifted onto other topics—Angie’s new boyfriend, how Melanie was trying to engineer a meeting with him, and whether or not she should try to meet his parents, mainly.

  Chapter 9

  “So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Daniel said, as he pulled out Veronica’s chair for her at Prezzo Il Palazzo, a new Italian restaurant downtown. Veronica stiffened. He was going to jump right into it? They hadn’t even ordered. She hadn’t had a chance to tell him about Eric.

  “Um… yeah?”

  “Have you ever tried linguine alle vongole?” he asked, seating himself opposite her.

  Veronica exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “Um, yes. I have. Although not here. This is the first time I’ve come here.”

  “Me too. I’ve never tried it. It’s with clams, right?”

  “It’s a white clam sauce,” Veronica confirmed. “I like it.”

  “I might try that tonight.”

  Opening her own menu, Veronica told herself to relax. Once they’d ordered, she’d explain about Eric, and maybe then she’d feel less overwhelmed by all the things on her mind lately. She tapped a finger on the cream-colored tablecloth as she scanned the menu, stealing glances at Daniel. She liked the way his hair was growing out, curling over the collar of the pale yellow Oxford shirt he wore. He was focused on his own menu, and she allowed herself a moment to enjoy gazing at the smooth planes of his face. When she first saw Daniel, his good-looks struck her. Now it was like a glow surrounded him. The drabbest colors of a room became vibrant with him there.

  The server, a young Latina in a starched which shirt and black skirt, appeared a few moments later. Daniel ordered the linguine.

  “I’ll have the same,” Veronica said after a moment of agonized indecision.

  “And a bottle of the Prosecco,” Daniel added.

  “Sure,” the server said, beaming at him, and she turned and trotted off.

  “So I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Veronica said quickly, before Daniel could say anything that might derail her intention to come clean about Eric.

  Daniel raised his eyebrows and reached for her hand, which she gave him.

  “I’m not even sure where to start,” Veronica said. “It’s partly about a dream I had—not about the parade, a different one,” she clarified.

  “Okay.”

  “But it’s also about an old friend of mine who’s coming to town. His name is Eric. He’s French—I met him on my year abroad.”

  “Oh, yeah. Eric, the one you had a crush on who was dating your friend. What was her name?”

  Veronica was stunned for a moment. “Fiona. I told you about him?”

  “Yeah, don’t you remember? We were playing cards with Sunny and her beau-du-jour—what was his name? Alex? Albert? I don’t remember. Anyway he’s long gone so I guess that’s irrelevant. We were drinking that nice licorice stuff, I forget what it’s called. It was only about two months ago.”

  “Pernaud!” Veronica said, the memory returning to her.

  “Yeah, that’s it,”
Daniel said. “You brought it, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “And then everyone started talking about France, and you told us about the night you and your friends were mugged.”

  Nodding, Veronica felt a flush rise in her cheeks. How could she have forgotten that? Of course, when she told that story, she’d had no idea one of its principal characters would be walking back into her life six weeks later.

  The server returned with the prosecco, opening it with a pop and pouring it into Daniel’s glass for a taste. Daniel had a sip and then nodded at the server. She filled Veronica’s glass with the sparkling white wine and then Daniel’s.

  “So Eric is visiting you?” Daniel said in a mild tone of voice. He gazed at her over another sip of the wine.

  “Oh no, not me,” Veronica said hastily. “He’s coming to Sac on business. But he’s going to stay a while. He wants to find an apartment. He wants my help to find one, actually.”

  Daniel admired the glass of prosecco he held as if evaluating its color and clarity. “When did all this come about?”

  “Just a few days ago. I was going to tell you about it, but then the murders happened and there wasn’t a good time,” Veronica said.

  “Right,” Daniel said.

  “I wasn’t even sure I was going to—I don’t know, to even answer him,” she continued. “But then I had this dream about him on the plane over here—or one of the planes, I’m sure he’ll have to switch planes at least once. Anyway, I didn’t see much, but it looked like the flight attendants were stressed out about something. My alarm woke me up. I’m worried it’s a warning about the plane going down.”

  Daniel nodded, setting his glass by his plate. “So naturally, that’s when you answered him. And warned him about the plane?”

  “No,” Veronica said. “He doesn’t know I’m psychic. He’d probably think I was crazy. Besides, I don’t know what plane it is, and I want to try to stop it from going down, not just stop him from getting on it.”

  Daniel pursed his lips and nodded again. He looked tense.

  The server arrived with their salads and set them down. Veronica waited until she was gone to continue.

  “I just said I was glad to hear from him, and I asked when he was coming,” Veronica said. “I tried to call you all that morning—it was Saturday, before I went to Sunny’s. But you were at the crime scene.”