by Emmy Grace
He grunts.
“Aren’t you afraid to go creeping around at murder scenes and empty buildings, and farms, in the middle of the night?”
“Nope.”
“Can you defend yourself?”
“I can talk myself out of most anything. Plus, I have this lucky charm. But if all else fails…” I make chopping motions with my hands, “karate.”
There’s a long, thick pause during which I have major regret about several parts of my response.
When Liam speaks, laughter is evident in his tone, which is saying a lot since I don’t think the guy has ever laughed a day in his life. “Karate? Is that right?”
“That was so bad, right? I hate myself a little bit right now.”
“Why? Those look to be some impressive skills.” He’s clearly about to choke on his own tongue trying to hold back his amusement.
I stop and lower my flashlight. I circle my hand toward myself. “Come on. Let it out. Just get it over with.”
“What?” His voice is so tight, it sounds like he might burst.
“That.”
Finally, Liam Dunning does the unthinkable. The remarkable. The unheard of.
He laughs.
And I mean, like, laughs laughs.
Then he laughs some more. I think he might even be holding his stomach.
“It wasn’t that funny.”
“Says who?” he asks, and then laughs some more.
“How do you know I don’t have a black belt in jiu-jitsu?”
“You’ve got a black belt, all right. I can see it from here.”
He shines his light on my waist, illuminating my black leather belt, and then he laughs some more.
“Well, while you’re enjoying yourself at my expense, I’m going to do my job.”
Liam wipes his eyes. “Job? You’re not getting paid for this. Or did you forget you’re not a cop?”
“That’s not what I’m getting paid for.” I give him a sassy smile and head toward the door.
“Miss Haddy, right? She’s paying you to find the black book?”
“I can’t disclose information about my clients.”
When we reach the back door, Liam stops me with a hand to my arm. “Do you realize what you’re holding, Lucky?”
“A flashlight. It’s not a very good one, but it suits my purposes.”
“You have the power, right now, to change the way this town operates from this day forward.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
He nods to the book in my hand. I tighten my grip so much that my knuckles ache. “No one should hold this much power, have this much dirt on people.”
“I agree, but who am I to upset the balance around here? Just because it isn’t right doesn’t mean that things wouldn’t be worse if someone messed with the system.”
“Maybe they’d get better. Ever think of that?”
I consider what he’s saying. “I have actually. I grew up in a small town. They’re like ponds. They each have their own delicate ecosystem, and if one thing gets out of balance, it could kill off all the life in the pond. Maybe Miss Haddy doesn’t need this book. Maybe someone else does. Maybe it needs to go away completely. But who am I to make that decision? I’d hate to be responsible for the ruination of a town and every life in it. Wouldn’t you?”
Liam eyes me in silence for at least two minutes. If his eyes weren’t open and twinkling in the low light of my downturned flashlight, I’d think he was asleep on his feet.
“I’ve never met someone like you.”
“Is that a good thing, or…?”
“You’re sharp. And most sharp people have an agenda. But you…you don’t seem to have any ulterior motives for the things you do. At least not bad ones. I don’t know if I trust that.”
“Wait. So, let me get this straight. You think I’m smart and I’m a good person, and you don’t trust me because of it?”
“Pretty much.”
I take a tentative step toward him and lower my voice when I speak. “Liam, can I tell you something?”
He takes a step toward me, too. “Yes.”
I glance down like I’m nervous, and then I look up at him from beneath my lashes. I choose my words carefully, clearly annunciating each one. “That is, without a doubt, the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
Now I know why my lucky charm doesn’t work on him. He’s completely insane.
One side of his mouth tilts up in a sardonic half-grin. “Probably. Maybe it’s my training, maybe it was my job, but in my experience, people aren’t just good. Not deep down.”
“You don’t think you’re good?”
His hesitation is short, but telltale. “In some ways, yes.”
“And in some ways, no.”
He nods.
“I think that’s sad, but don’t put your nutty conclusions on me. I’m not perfect, but I don’t look to hurt people. Make of that what you will. I’m just a girl.”
“Who likes to investigate gruesome murders.”
“Are there any other kind?”
He glances behind us as we exit the way we came in. “Evidently, not around here.”
Out in the alley, it gets a little awkward. I swing my arms, still holding onto the book with one hand, my flashlight with the other. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”
“See you around, Lucky.”
He turns to walk one way. I turn to walk the other. And I trip over my own feet and nearly fall flat on my face.
I yip instinctively before I can right myself. I sneak a glance behind me, hoping Liam is already out of sight.
He’s not. He’s standing in the center of the alley, watching me, shaking his head.
“Move along,” I tell him. “Nothing to see here.”
I spin and walk off as quickly—and carefully—as I can. I hear a throaty chuckle follow me all the way to the sidewalk, and just before I turn the corner, “Have a good night, ninja Jedi.”
I smile all the way home.
6
Miss Haddy is at my front door, bright and early the next morning. I’m still bleary-eyed and messy-headed when I let her in. “Did you find it?”
“I did.” I retrieve the book for her. I hid it in the space beneath my underwear drawer for safekeeping.
When I hand it over, she doesn’t take it. “Maybe you should hold on to it for a spell.”
“You basically called this thing plutonium, and you want me to keep it?”
“You have no use for the information. You’re the best person for the job.”
“I hate to be a wuss, but yesterday, you thought Andrew Ames might’ve been killed over this. To be perfectly honest, I don’t think I want to see it again for the rest of my life, much less keep it.”
“No one would know you have it.”
If the look I give her doesn’t speak to my derision, hopefully my tone does. “Miss Haddy, word travels so fast around this place, fax machines all around the world are jealous.”
“Not this word. Only the four of us would know.”
“Five. Liam Dunning popped by last night.”
She looks both shocked and puzzled. “What are you doing letting him in your underwear drawer, young lady? I said wed him, not bed him.”
If I were more awake, I would laugh at that. “Not here. At the accountant’s office.”
Miss Haddy grins and her cherubic face turns light pink. “Shameful assumption of me. Now you’ll think I’m a dirty old woman.”
“No, I won’t. I think everyone around here is just too preoccupied with Liam Dunning’s love life.”
“I confess, we are a bit…involved. After what happened to his fiancée, I s’pose the whole town just wants to see him settled down and happy.”
Of course, my curiosity is instantly piqued. “His fiancée? I didn’t know he was engaged.”
“It’s been a while now. They met when he was working for the FBI. They were quite the couple. They went on a mission together, and something happened.
He never has talked much about it. Nearly drove himself into the ground looking for her killer.”
“He never found the person who did it?”
Miss Haddy shakes her head, and her white curls bob and jostle. “He gave up everything after that. Came back here to tend the farm.”
“I thought he got injured and was avoiding a desk job.”
“Oh, he got injured, all right. Chasing after ghosts.”
Miss Haddy waddles over to me and pats my cheek as she takes the book out of my hands. “You see now why the whole town’s rooting for him?”
I nod. “Yeah. That makes more sense.”
“Mind yourself that you don’t go breaking his heart, you hear?”
“I hate to tell you this, but Liam Dunning isn’t interested in me. Believe me, I know when men are. And he’s not.”
“You’ll see it one of these days. Just keep those pretty eyes of yours peeled so you don’t miss it.”
I watch Miss Haddy make her way to the door. What I don’t tell her is that it would be the worst thing in the world to happen to Liam Dunning if he ever got feelings for me. I’m lucky in most everything except love.
I hear her gasp before Miss Haddy whirls back around to face me. Her face is as pale as the white ceramic of my clawfoot bathtub. “Miss Haddy, what’s wrong?”
She holds up the book by the spine, the pages falling open in a hushed cascade of onionskin. “It’s a fake.”
“What do you mean ‘it’s a fake’?”
She looks like she’s about to have a fainting spell.
I walk to her, taking her by the arms before she falls over. She raises one shaking hand and flips through the pages of the book. It takes a second for what I’m seeing to sink in.
When I glance up, our eyes collide and we stare at each other.
“This book is blank.”
Miss Haddy nods, her pink lips puffing as she lets out a shuddering breath. “You have to find that book, Lucky Boucher. The fate of this whole town depends on it.”
I gape at Miss Haddy.
No pressure there.
I don’t let her see how disconcerting it is to have that weight placed squarely on my shoulders. I bend and look carefully into her face and assure her, “I’ll find it. I’ll find it and I’ll get it back in your hands as soon as I possibly can.”
She manages a tremulous smile and starts to back away. She thrusts the blank black book at me. “Here, sugar, you might need a good decoy. Someone’s good at games, but I’d bet our sweet Lucky is even better.”
Miss Haddy turns again to leave. Before she can disappear through the door, I have to ask, “Who was closest to Andrew Ames? Did he have a wife or children? A girlfriend?” Might as well get as many leads as I can from the woman who would know them best.
Shaking her headful of white curls, Miss Haddy’s expression tells me what I need to know before she even opens her mouth. “No one that I know of. He was a solitary man. His work was his life. That’s why this is such a surprise. The man didn’t have any friends or enemies, that I knew of.”
I blow it off like it’s no big deal, even though she just gave me a whole lotta nothing to go on. “Okay. Good to know. Go home and get some rest, Miss Haddy. Try not to worry.”
Her parting smile says that she will do neither of those things until I have the real little black book in her hands.
Andrew Ames was a really sad person. Miss Haddy was right. He lived a very lonely, predictable life with absolutely no color that I can find. He didn’t have friends or family here in Salty Springs. He had no pets, no hobbies, and no interests. Or if he did, no one knows about them. The only thing I guess I can say I know for sure is that he had no pets. Clive confirmed that for me a little while ago when I called him. I made my query under the guise of being an animal rescuer. I told him I’d be happy to take Mr. Ames’ pets until they could be adopted out. But there were no pets at his place. No pets and no evidence that he’d ever had one. No food or toys or beds or bowls. Apparently, his house was as devoid of life as his actual life was.
The more I look into the man, the sorrier I feel for him. But, then again, he chose his existence. Maybe he loved his work so much that it was all the fulfillment he needed. I’ve known people like that before. All work and no play, but it’s because their work is their play. I suppose I can understand that. If investigating were my job as well as my passion, I’d never want to turn it off either. Of course, for me, I’d always have room for my animals. And my friends and family. I can’t imagine life without those things.
I have no choice but to dig into Ames’ financials. Following a money trail can often lead to all sorts of revelations about a person. Where they spend their money, from where it comes, the amounts, the regularity—it paints a pretty thorough picture of an individual. For better or worse. Getting access to that, though… Therein lies the difficulty.
I grab my phone and call Annette at the library. “Hi, Annette. This is Lucky. I need to speak with Miss Haddy. Is there a way I can do that without making an appointment and going to see her?”
Annette pauses. “I will give you her cell phone, but only because I know how upset she is, and I know what you’re doing for her. I think she would be okay with you having it.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
She rattles off some numbers and I jot them down. “You’re never to give that number to another living soul, though. Do you understand?”
“I’ll protect it with my life.”
“This is no joking matter, Ms. Boucher.”
Wow! She does the same thing with my name that Liam Dunning does—makes it sound like a curse.
I’m impressed with the way Annette can convey the same prickly judgment via telephone that she does so adeptly in person. That’s probably a useful talent, but only for someone who is heavily involved in a ring of information Nazis that run an entire town from an old lady’s basement.
“Sorry, Annette. I won’t give it to anyone else.”
I can practically hear her smug nodding. “Good. Good luck to you.”
I smother a laugh. Does she realize who she’s talking to?
I thank her and dial Miss Haddy instead. She answers on the first ring. “What can I do for you, Lucky?”
“Hi, Miss Haddy. It’s Lu— How’d you know it was me?”
For just a second, I hear The Twilight Zone music playing in the back of my mind.
“Caller ID.”
“You knew my number?”
“Sugar, I got that months ago when you moved in.”
I have questions, of course. Many of them. But I think I’d be much better off to stop wasting my mental resources on trying to figure out this sweet little mobster’s ways and focus on the task at hand.
“Sorry to bother you again so soon, but I was wondering if there was any way you could help me get ahold of Mr. Ames’ banking information? I just need—”
“I can’t help you myself, but I can point you to the person who can. She’s what you young’uns call a hacker. You may as well be warned, though, that she trades in a different sort of way.”
I feel myself frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’ll see soon enough. She’s harmless. For the most part. Just go along with her and she can be a good resource for you and your peculiar hobby.”
“Peculiar hobby?”
“It’s not every day that I meet a young woman who dabbles in death.”
“I don’t dabble in death. I just like a good puzzle.”
“What a nice way of puttin’ it,” she says kindly. It’s like getting patted on the head and sent on my way. “You have a pencil and paper, sugar? I’ll give you her name and number.”
She rattles off the contact info for a person known only as Felonious. “Her name is Felonious?”
That doesn’t bode well.
“She’s a good girl. Mostly.”
Again, I have questions. Probably concerns, too, but I don’t voice any of them
. I need to keep moving in one direction, which is forward with the Andrew Ames’ case. The oddballs in this town are another project for another day.
I thank her and dial the new number right away. I’m surprised by the voice that answers. She sounds young. Very young. But then I think back to the exact word Miss Haddy used—girl—and realize I shouldn’t be.
I’m going to have to start paying closer attention to any and everything Miss Haddy does and says. It’s like dealing with an elderly James Bond.
“Hi, Felonious?”
“Yeah. What’s it to you?”
“Uh, I was… Miss Haddy gave me your number. She said you could help me.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Lucky Boucher, and I’m helping Miss Haddy with something.”
I’m already forming an opinion. If this girl is a hacker, she can’t be that good or she’d have known who I was, right? I mean, that’s the first thing I’d do if I had some sort of cyber gift—I’d know everything I could about the people reaching out to me, starting with their identity.
As if she’s been listening to my internal musings, Felonious flexes one of her hacker muscles. “How’s the pig working out?”
“How did you—” I nod appreciatively. “Nice. Good one.”
She makes a noise, and I think that this girl is just as good as Annette at being smug over the phone.
“This is about Mr. Ames, I guess?”
Okay, now she’s picking up speed.
“It is.”
“What do you need?”
“His banking records. For, say, the last six months or so. The last year if you can get them.”
“I can get whatever you want.”
I wonder if this girl is chewing bubblegum. That’s the mental picture I get—some woman-child wearing a Tetris t-shirt and fuzzy pajama bottoms, twirling around in her chair in front of the computer, playing with her gum as she listens in boredom to the adult droning on.
I could be biased, though.
And I watch way too much television. At least I did before I started having actual murders to investigate. This is definitely one instance where life is so much better than art.
