by Catie Rhodes
“The answer’s still no.” I put my hands on my hips and quickly dropped them when I realized how I must look in my waist-cinching dress and top hat.
“Now, Ms. Mace—”
“Want me to call my boyfriend?” I raised my eyebrows at him. “That’s him right over there with the uniform and the gun.”
Winston Everett’s mouth dropped open, and he walked away from me without another word. Jerk.
Bad temper boiled through me as I stalked toward the shaved ice stand. Sweat poured off me. My ridiculous getup didn’t let in any breeze. Between that and my foul mood, I needed something cool. A hand closed on my arm, and I whirled around to find Wade Hill grinning in front of me. He’d left his biker attire at home and donned the topcoat and tails of a Victorian gentleman. His black hair hung in a braided queue tied with a satiny black ribbon.
Despite my feelings for Dean, a charge of lust warmed me. Had I met Wade first, would I have fallen for Dean? I would never two-time Dean, and I wanted to let things play out without a cheap cop-out on my end…but if my relationship with Dean turned bad, Wade Hill better watch out.
The band launched into a wailing, accordion-filled rendition of “Jolie Blon.” The lead singer wailed the sad song in Cajun French, of which I spoke not one word but loved hearing. Wade held out his hand to me.
“May I?” he asked.
I took his hand, and we swooped around the other dancing couples. We probably looked like Mutt and Jeff, with Wade being so tall, but I didn’t care. It took my mind off missing Chase.
“Jolie Blon” segued into “Luckenbach, Texas.” The two songs together fit East Texas, which was a mish-mash of culture. By the time the band began a new song—Stevie Ray Vaughan’s “Tin Roof Alley”—I caught Dean watching Wade and me with an unhappy expression on his face. I kissed Wade’s cheek and told I’d see him around. He bowed theatrically and kissed my hand.
I wandered through the crowd alone, missing Chase more than ever. Many locals had rented street vendor space, and I browsed a variety of handmade crafts, drifting farther and farther away from the bandstand and the crowd. Before I knew it, I’d wandered into the alley leading to Dottie’s Burgers and Rings. Realizing there were no vendors back there, I turned to go back the way I’d come. An old-fashioned horse-drawn carriage waited at the end of the alley. Thinking Eddie Kennedy had stopped to check on me, I hurried.
My pulse quickened when I reached the carriage. This one didn’t belong to Eddie. Instead of being open air, this carriage had windows. Up close, I saw it had real brass accents. The biggest hint this carriage didn’t belong to Eddie, however, was the driver—a young man wearing black livery. I gave him an embarrassed wave and tried to pass around the carriage.
“A free ride miss?” The kid, who must have been a drama student from a nearby college or maybe even the high school, spoke in a silly, faux English accent.
“No, thanks,” I said. Free was never free. I walked away. The door to the carriage creaked open. Rather than turning to see who was inside, I walked faster. One of my high-heeled boots—blasted feminine thing—caught in the crack around a manhole and I engaged in the complicated dance of trying not to fall down. Hands clutched my waist and steadied me. I turned, expecting to see the carriage driver.
Benny Longstreet stood in front of me. Hysteria fluttering in my chest, I gasped and jerked away, but his grip tightened.
“I want to speak with you.” His quick words brooked no argument. Pompous bastard.
I struggled, but he jerked me against him and dragged me toward the carriage. I shrieked and beat at him with my fists. Benny ignored me. We both knew I couldn’t fight him off. The band playing several blocks away was perfectly audible. Between that and the roar of a couple thousand people, nobody would hear me.
“Help me, you little idiot,” Benny said to the carriage driver. The young man hesitated, but something in Benny’s expression got his butt off his seat.
Together, the men hauled me into the carriage. I bucked and scratched and swung my fists. Both men swatted me away. Benny sat on one bench and pulled me to sit next to him. The door to the carriage closed.
“Lock it from the outside,” Benny called. The sound of the lock sliding home sounded so final. Fear rose and crested in me, and I screamed for help.
Benny cocked back one fist and stared at me. He’d already proved twice he would hit me. I shut up and sat still, my mind racing through escape plans. My mouth had dried to the texture of sandpaper, and my heart pounded against my chest. I sat back in the seat. The corners of Benny’s eyes crinkled behind wire-rimmed glasses much like my own. He tapped the side of the carriage with his silver-topped cane. We began to move.
Benny sat back in his seat, smiling as though he hadn’t just kidnapped me. I bet he’d treated my cousin just like this. My fists itched to pound his horsey face, but I knew I’d lose the fight.
“You gonna kill me now?” I scooted as far away from Benny as I could get.
Benny smirked. “If I wanted to kill you, I’ve already had two chances. Why would I do it now, in front of all these people?”
His words reminded me of what I’d said to Hannah. If Benny had murdered Rae, he would have taken her out of town, disposed of her so nobody ever found her.
“You hit me twice, you stinking piece of shit. Why should I believe you?” Even as I hissed mean words at him, I believed him. Benny had better sense than to kill me at the street dance.
“I’m sorry for hitting you. Damn it. I’m sorry.” Benny’s face darkened. His hands clenched in his lap, tightening until cords stood out in them. “That’s why I want to talk to you. To explain what happened. And to warn you.”
“Oh, hell.” I made a show of rolling my eyes. “Now you care what happens to me? In what alternate universe am I supposed to fall for that?”
“Do you think I’m proud of the way this has blown out of control?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “Haven’t you ever gotten caught up in something you knew was wrong but couldn’t stop?”
“I didn’t kill my pregnant girlfriend because she blackmailed me.” Rae’s murder not matching Benny’s personality slithered around my mind. But I imagined Rae’s pregnancy and blackmail attempt scared him into some kind of action. Had he hired Veronica Spinelli and Billy Ryder to finish Rae? Rae owed Veronica money. If Benny offered to pay off Rae’s debt in exchange for her murder, Veronica would have jumped on it. “Benny, just tell Dean what happened. If you give up Veronica Spinelli and Billy Ryder, you might get a lighter sentence.”
Benny narrowed his eyes and cocked his head. “What in God’s name are you talking about, child?”
His confusion threw me off. Either he missed his calling as an actor, or I had it all wrong. I slumped in the leather seat, wincing as the horrible corset bit into me. “Say what you have to say, but make it quick.”
“No matter what you think, I didn’t kill Rae,” he said. “I got in over my head. I met her at The Chameleon while entertaining an investor. I meant to just do it one time, but I couldn’t quit. She burned with life and passion. I’d never experienced anyone like her. Maybe I didn’t love her, but I cared what happened to her.”
I stifled the urge to kick him with my hard-soled, high-heeled boots. Benny had an aristocratic wife and two beautiful children. How could Rae, with all her schemes and nastiness, have made him feel alive? And how could he say he cared for her after everything he’d done? The way he’d twisted it all around sickened me.
“If you had nothing to do with Rae’s death, what were you doing at her murder scene?”
“I need to tell you a little of what happened leading up to the murder.” Benny shook off his embarrassment like a pro.
“You mean you need to rationalize whatever you did.” No way I’d make this easy for him. Murderer or not, his behavior sucked.
“This is not a rationalization.” Benny impressed me. His voice held no hint of whining or pleading. No wonder he did so well as a businessman. “You have
to know what happened before to understand what happened that day.”
“I bet I know more than you think.” I held my eyes on his until he shifted and glanced at his feet. “Rae found out she was pregnant on Thursday before she died. She gave you the sex tape and tried to blackmail you. What then?”
“I refused to allow her to blackmail me. Instead, I offered to pay her expenses if she’d give the baby up for adoption. She became enraged. I called her bluff, told her to go on and tell my wife.” Benny smoothed down his fancy suit, his trembling chin the only outward sign of his emotions. “She flipped out, told me this wild story about a fugitive who’d been on the run for thirty years and how she owed him money. I called her a liar, and she ran off mad.
“Sunday came around, and I hadn’t heard from her. I snuck through the woods between our properties. I went there to talk sense to her. Whoever…did what they did to your cousin had already come and gone, but she was still hanging on.”
I went cold. All the food I’d eaten threatened to return in a spew of hot garbage. “Why didn’t you call 911?”
“Just listen to me, okay? She was dying. You can—just tell. She said ‘his neck…scar.’” Benny let out a long exhale. “At least, that’s what I think she said.”
“And you just sat there and watched her die?” Hot fury crept up my spine and throbbed in a vein on my forehead. No matter what excuses he gave, this cowardly douchetard watched my cousin die a miserable death and then beat me up so he could escape an out of control situation of his own making. I wanted to leap across the carriage and hit him and kick him until I ran out of energy. But I remembered how hard he hit. I drew in one deep breath. Then another. While I wrestled my temper under control, I remembered the gloves Benny wore that day. They’d sounded like balloons rubbing together.
“You’re full of shit. You had on latex gloves, Benny. You either knew what you’d find in that trailer or you’re the one who really killed her.”
“I did not kill her. And I didn’t know what I’d find. I went back to my truck and got some latex gloves so I could get her phone. It was one of those pay-as-you-go phones. I knew because I’d bought her minutes for it. If I took it, the police would never see the messages I sent her or my phone number on it.” Benny stopped speaking and glanced around the carriage, even turning in his seat to peer out the window behind him. While he was turned, a light puff of wind moved his hair. He jerked back around and glared at me. I met his stare unblinking.
The undercurrent of tension in the carriage deepened. Rae. Her emotions crept into mine, her fear surprising me. Was Rae afraid for me? No. Her emotions centered on Benny. It slowly dawned on me that Rae had liked Benny. Now she feared for him. That meant Benny didn’t kill her.
I had known, deep down, but still felt relieved. Benny, a vein pulsing at his temple and sweat coating his face, still searched the carriage for the intruder he could feel but not see. He shivered. I enjoyed his discomfort, perhaps too much.
“Please, Peri Jean. You have to believe me. Someone has to believe me.” Benny’s slick demeanor slipped, and a tear rolled down his face. He covered his face and gave in to a few convincing sobs. “I never wanted that to happen to her.”
“All right,” I said. “I believe you.”
Benny raised his tear-streaked face and stared at me through brimming eyes. I wanted to puke. “Really? Can you forgive me?”
“Yeah. I believe you.” I didn’t answer the second part. I didn’t think I could without screaming at him. “Let me out of here.”
“Did I say we were done? I’ve not told you what you need to hear.” Quick as a flash, Benny the ruthless businessman replaced the Benny who cried in front of me. He waited until I sat back on the bench. “Watch yourself. Annoying as you were to me, I suspect you’re an actual threat to the murderer.”
He leaned forward and used his silver knobbed cane to knock on the carriage’s wall. It rolled to a stop. The carriage shifted as the driver hopped down. A click sounded as he unlocked the door. I climbed over Benny, not caring if I jabbed him with my elbows, and grabbed the carriage door, opening it a little. With Rae here, I had the upper hand, but I’d take no chances.
“You listen to me, now, sleaze dick.” I got right in his face. “This ain’t settled. You best watch out.”
“You best watch your mouth, honey.” He reached for me, but stopped when he spotted something behind me. A blast of cold burned my back as Rae’s ghostly arm reached over my shoulder and pushed Benny back on the seat. A dark patch appeared on his crotch as he pissed his pants. He looked down at the mess and back at me.
I wiggled my fingers and hopped out of the carriage and backed away. A solid wall of muscle stopped my retreat. I let out a little shriek and turned. Wade Hill leaned down to look at me, his frantic expression evident even in the shadowy half-light.
“You okay?” Wade gasped, as though he’d been running.
Benny shut the door to the carriage and moved away. Wade broke away from me and beat on the door, shouting at Benny that he ought to kick his ass. The carriage stopped, and Benny and Wade had a heated discussion. Benny slammed the door in his face, and Wade took off running toward the thickest part of the crowd.
A few minutes later, he and Dean Turgeau reappeared and chased down the carriage. Dean dragged Benny out and cuffed him. I stood at a distance watching the show. Dean motioned me over. He held Benny by his cuffed hands, waiting as a cruiser cut through the curious onlookers.
“Did he drag you into the carriage against your will?”
“He did.”
“But I just wanted to help her. The real killer’s still out there. He’s after her. I just wanted to warn her.” Benny looked more angry than scared as Dean stuffed him in the back of the cruiser.
Wade Hill approached me. “You okay?”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
“Always happy to help a damsel in distress.” He grinned and bowed. “Especially when she’s as pretty as you.”
I blushed.
Dean waved the cruiser off and walked over to us. He spoke to Wade. “I’ve got this.” He didn’t look real happy with Wade.
Wade shrugged and wandered into the crowd after winking at me. I lost sight of him in the writhing mass of people. When I turned back to Dean, a glare pinched his fine features.
Hannah and I reconvened in the museum after the street dance. Dean had to work until the last reveler went home, and I opted to hang out with Hannah for a few hours. We invited Memaw to join us, but she claimed to crave the solitude and went home alone.
When Hannah untied my corset, I nearly fell down from the relief. In the night’s last minutes, the pain had been nearly unbearable. Hannah poured herself a short glass of whiskey and told me to raid the refrigerator. I took a bottle of pomegranate juice.
“How’d you do? Several store owners have told me this is the biggest week of the year.”
“I would’ve done better if Michael Gage hadn’t written me a hot check. As is, I’ll barely cover Memaw’s Christmas present.”
“Get out.” Hannah clunked her heavy glass down on the vintage suitcase she used for a coffee table.
“Nope,” I said.
“There’s just something about that guy,” she said. “I can’t put my finger on it. What’s his story?”
“He came here about four years ago, right after Pastor Reeves died. He said he’d done missionary work and talked his way into auditioning. They voted unanimously to hire him. The church was nearly dried up. Low membership. Gage turned it around.”
“He’s charismatic. I’ll give him that,” Hannah said. “But there’s a dark side. The way he acted when he realized he wasn’t going to hook up with you chilled me to the bone.” She shook her head. “I met a guy like that in college. He—well, that’s a story for another time.”
We sat in silence for several minutes. Hannah seemed lost in the past. When she spoke, it was clear she wasn’t yet done with the topic of Michael Gage. “That episode in the pa
rking lot bothered me more than I’m probably conveying here. When I got home that night, I did some checking on Michael Gage. Before he came to town four years ago, he didn’t exist online. Then, all of a sudden, he’s all over the web.”
“He was a missionary, remember? Maybe there was no internet where he lived.” I went out with a lot of men. Michael Gage’s antics had surprised me, but they didn’t prove him guilty of anything more than being a tool.
“The missionary thing.” Hannah pointed one freckled finger at me. “The night Veronica beat you up, you said you’d emailed that colleague of Michael Gage’s. That Jerry guy from Guatemala. You ever hear back from him?”
I slapped my forehead. “I set up a fake email account. I’ve been so busy I forgot to log into it.”
“Do it now.” Hannah got her laptop off the mosaic-topped bar and handed it to me.
I logged into the phony email account and there it was—an email from Jerry Bower. He’d sent it almost a week ago. I barely skimmed through his polite answer and went straight into downloading the pictures. As the first one appeared on my screen, we sat speechless.
The man in the pictures had long legs, a red face, and a weak chin. Instead of black hair, his receding reddish-brown hair was curly. He wasn’t the Michael Gage we knew. The woman, though, was definitely Sharon Zeeman Gage. I opened a browser window and showed Hannah the missing person’s page.
After she looked at it, I sent Sharon Zeeman Gage’s sister an email with attachments of the picture and a summary of Jerry Bower’s original letter, explaining that the Michael Gage it came to was the wrong man, but they might help her with her case.
“Things aren’t adding up here.” Hannah tapped at the corner of her mouth.
“I know a place we can check. He went to prep school. He had the picture on the wall of his office. Nightshade Preparatory Academy for Boys. Maybe they have an alumni page.”
“Let’s see about that.” Hannah held out her hands for the laptop.
Hannah’s fingers flew over the keys. Nightshade Preparatory Academy for Boys turned out to be in Vermont. Hannah clicked the link for alumni. The page seemed to take forever to load. Right there on the opening screen was the picture hanging in Michael Gage’s office.
