“Would it be that awful?”
I shrugged. “Yes. Why would I want to work with someone who rejected me publicly?”
“Define ‘rejected you publicly.’”
“He started dating this girl named Darcy Fitzgerald. Darcy announced to everyone in our calculus class that poor, pitiful little Holly Anna actually thought she had a chance with Chase.”
“It doesn’t sound like he publicly rejected you. It sounds like his girlfriend did.”
“He had to tell her. Otherwise, how would she have known?”
“Not necessarily. Girls pick up on stuff like that.”
“Well, he just laughed when she said it and looked at me with pure pity in his eyes. Either way, I don’t want to work with him. He’s always been arrogant and sure of himself and cocky—”
“After all of these years, he still gets to you.” She shook her head, an amused look in her eyes.
“I just don’t have any pleasant memories. That’s all.”
Her amused expression only strengthened. “Well, there’s always Brian.”
Brian Bieber . . . the guy everyone wanted me to date. Everyone in my family, at least. I supposed he was responsible with a steady job and a good reputation. Despite his unfortunate last name, there could be worse people to date. The only thing was that I didn’t feel that spark with him. I wanted a spark. I wanted what I called a “Great Love,” not just a mediocre imitation.
Despite that, I thought we could probably be happy together. We were most likely compatible. And, my impression was that Brian was interested. Okay, it was more than an impression. He often asked me to go with him as a date to various events around town. Whenever he tried to turn the conversation to something more serious, I quickly changed the subject.
Just as I would now. “Moving on . . .”
Jamie took a long sip of her drink just as the waitress walked by with some garlic knots. My stomach grumbled. I was getting hungry now. Great. I had to be home in an hour to eat. I hoped I could wait that long.
“How are you feeling lately?”
As if possibly being arrested for murder, running into my arch nemesis, and talking about rejection wasn’t enough, the question of how I was feeling sobered me even more. I shrugged. “Mostly I’m doing okay.”
Jamie raised her pizza and glanced over the top of it. “When are you going to tell your family?”
“The special election is only a couple of weeks away, and my sister’s wedding is eight weeks away. When both of those are over, I’ll tell them my news.”
Three months ago, I’d been diagnosed with a very rare cancer called subcutaneous panniculitis-like T-cell lymphoma. It was an aggressive, fast-moving disease that meant I only had around a year to live. I could have treatments, but they’d only extend my life for a few months, plus they’d make me extremely sick in the process. I decided I wanted quality over quantity.
“I really think you should tell your family sooner.”
We’d had this conversation before. “I know. But I’m waiting, and I feel okay about it. It’s what I should do.”
“Okay, you should get a second opinion, then.”
“Two different labs looked at my blood work. Plus, my doctor said that so little is known about this disease that there are no specialists. I don’t want to live in denial or fighting the inevitable.”
“But the CT scan didn’t show anything!”
“The doctor said this was normal with this type of cancer. The good news is that I feel great.”
“Which is suspicious in itself.” Jamie frowned.
I squeezed my friend’s hand. “You worry too much.”
“You don’t worry enough.”
“I’m not going to add any amount of quality to my life by worrying. Nor am I going to add anything to the life of my family by making them worry. What will be will be.” And that was a great segue for me to leave. “Speaking of family, I’ve got to run.”
I stood and grabbed my purse.
“Uh-huh,” Jamie muttered. “No more random acts of kindness. Not without my approval. Do you understand?”
I smiled over my shoulder. “I hear you.”
***
I pulled up at home and saw a truck in the driveway. Great. Who had my mom invited over for dinner now? She was always having some board member or city council representative over.
As I walked toward the front door, Mrs. Signet waved to me from her porch. She was a small woman with faded blonde hair that formed a poof around her face. It seemed like she’d been old for as long as I’d known her, but she hadn’t slowed down any. Right now, she swept her porch.
“Did you hear about that skunkball?”
I paused, bracing myself for another urban legend. “Skunkball?”
She nodded, totally serious. “I got two emails about it. I forwarded one to you. Make sure you read it. These teens today. They’re taking rags soaked in gasoline, lighting them up, and throwing them into cars stopped at red lights. Keep your eyes open.”
One of the worst decisions I’d ever made was giving her my email address. She sent me virus-filled emails daily. “Yes, Mrs. Signet. Thanks for the warning.”
She had a new urban legend every day, and in case I missed her email, she always made sure to mention them to me, as well. I tried to explain to her that most weren’t real. I showed her websites that verified the inaccuracies of the emails. It didn’t matter. She believed each one as if it were the Bible.
I pulled a hair behind my ear, ready to put on my presentable self and not embarrass my mother. I walked inside, inhaling a savory scent that only intensified my hunger, and plastered a grin across my face. As soon as I walked into the kitchen, my grin disappeared. Quickly.
Chase Dexter. What was he doing here?
He grinned, standing from his seat at the breakfast table. “Holly! Good to see you again.” His voice rolled through the air, just as smoothly as ever.
“I’m glad you could make it.” My mom worked at the kitchen counter, scraping the mashed potatoes into a cheerful bowl. “I’m just about to slice up some of that roast beef you love so much.”
I dropped my bag on the bookshelf and resigned myself to sitting at the breakfast nook beside Chase. If I left, it would only look suspicious, and I’d end up making a bigger deal of things. Besides, my rules of etiquette instructed me to stay.
I looked at Chase. “This is quite the surprise.”
“Your mom insisted I come over and catch up.”
“Isn’t it wonderful that he’s back in town?” my mom called over her shoulder.
“Wonderful.” I should have tried to muster more enthusiasm, but I just couldn’t do it. Instead, I nodded forcefully.
“Before I forget, some woman called for you today, Holly,” my mom said. “She didn’t leave a message, just said she’d call back. Pleasant woman.”
“Thanks.” It was probably the nurse at my oncologist’s office. They wanted me to keep having checkups, but why? I already knew the outcome.
Chase leaned back in his chair, picking up on the conversation he’d probably been having with my mom before I came. “And in other news . . . it looks like I’m being promoted to detective.”
“You’ll make a great detective,” my mom crowed, pride beaming from her face.
I sure did wish she’d look at me like that. My dad had been the only one who’d understood me, and now he was gone.
“Didn’t you just move here and start on the force?” I asked, hating to be the voice of reason here.
He grinned. Man, he did look like Thor. It was unfortunate—for my heart, anyway. At least he didn’t have the killer Australian accent. “I did, but I accepted the job understanding that I’d be moved up to detective. They wanted me to start with patrol, so I could become more accustomed to the area first.”
My mom set the roast beef on the table. “Now we really have a reason to celebrate.”
I helped her with the rest of the food, trying desperately to think o
f an excuse to get out of this. Nothing acceptable came to mind. Finally, we all sat around the table, prayed, and dished out the food.
“So Chase, have you been assigned your first case yet?” My mom adjusted a piece of parsley atop the corn.
Yes, she even garnished on nonspecial occasions.
Chase nodded. “I have. You’ll never believe me if I tell you what it’s about.”
“Tell, tell.” My mom raised her eyebrows.
I took a long sip of my sweet tea in an effort to bite my tongue. How did Chase always manage to cast a spell on my mom . . . and everyone else, for that matter?
“Someone cleaned this lady’s house before killing her cousin.”
I coughed, nearly spitting my tea out all over the table.
“Holly, are you okay?” My mom paused for long enough to eye me with disapproval.
I nodded. “I’m fine. I . . . I just thought maybe I was in the middle of a sitcom or something. Someone cleaning the house before a murder. What a calling card.”
Chase nodded, taking a hearty serving of mashed potatoes. “Crazy, isn’t it? Kind of a lame case, but I’m the new guy, so I’m stuck with it, I guess.”
“I don’t know. At least the killer has manners. Holly, you remember when your father was in the hospital, those ladies from church came over and cleaned our house and brought us food for a week?”
Boy, did I ever remember. They were the ones who’d inspired me to break into Katrina’s. I bet they’d never anticipated I’d pay it forward as I had, though. I nodded.
“I’ll never forget their kindness,” my mom continued. “Sometimes a clean house and warm food is all you need to brighten your day. Too bad whoever did this couldn’t have stopped there.”
“It’s a strange case. But we’re trying to extract some evidence from the cleaning supplies now. The results should be back in a couple of days, and we hope to close in on this guy.”
CHAPTER 6
I dropped my fork, and it clattered on the table.
“Holly? What has gotten into you?” my mom reprimanded.
I shook my head. “Just feeling a little clumsy today. I mean, the thought of a killer being that calm—calm enough to clean your home before murdering someone. It’s disturbing. Are you sure the cleaning isn’t unrelated to the crime?”
“You think someone else broke in and cleaned on the night there just happened to be a murder there?” Chase chuckled, a slab of roast beef poised to be eaten on his fork. “What kind of crazy coincidence would that be?”
I let out a feeble laugh. “Good point. That would just be crazy. Insane. Totally unbelievable.”
I heard myself rambling, saw the strange look Chase sent my way, and stopped myself.
“Any good leads?” I asked instead. I pushed my food away, my appetite suddenly gone.
I tried to control the tremble that threatened to claim my entire body as I waited for his response. He had to finish chewing his dinner first, and he seemed to be savoring every bite.
“I can tell you what we’ve released to the press.” He put his fork down and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Right now our best lead, other than the cleaning supplies, is an old van that was sitting outside. One of the neighbors saw it. An old blue Toyota, probably an early 2000s model.”
“Sounds like your friend Jamie’s,” my mom added, totally clueless.
“Yeah, it was Jamie’s. She’s a reporter by day, and serial cleaner by night,” I muttered.
Everyone laughed, which should have helped my nausea. It didn’t. This was awful.
How much time did I have until I was discovered? Maybe crossing off things on my bucket list should be kicked into hyperdrive.
“Enough of this talk about murder,” Chase said. “What’s new with you, Holly?”
Both my mom and Chase turned toward me, waiting for my response.
Oh, nothing. Just terminally ill. Possibly going to be framed for murder. On the verge of disgracing everyone in my life.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
“Come now, there’s got to be something new,” Chase continued to prod.
“My life is pretty boring. I like it that way. Except for the skunkball.”
Chase’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. He opened his mouth as if to ask, when my mom rushed in. Thank goodness.
“If you’re ever hiring more detectives, maybe you should consider Holly. She helped her friend solve that cold case involving the Mercer family.” My mom raised her thin eyebrows and grinned, casting me a knowing glance.
Chase tilted his head. My mom just had to bring that up. It was one of her most recent favorite stories to tell.
“The Mercer family, huh? I remember that case quite well. It wrapped up right about the time I came into town. Tell me more.”
At least this beat talking about the other case I was currently involved with. I chased a piece of corn around my plate, trying to look hungry. “My friend, who was hired as a PI, actually solved it. I just helped her.” More like, I just drove her around town while she was here. It had actually been fun, something off my bucket list: pretend to be Nancy Drew and solve a mystery. Done. I didn’t need any more investigations in my life.
“That’s amazing, Holly.” Chase nodded, something close to admiration in his eyes.
“Isn’t it?” My words didn’t sound quite sincere.
Chase eyeballed me, a twinkle in his eyes. “I’m not so sure she’d make it through the police academy with the hair and nails, though.”
I touched my curly locks. “No prissy police officers allowed? No problem, because I’m not interested.”
“Oh, stop, Holly. She’s being so humble.” My mother let out a brittle laugh. “She’s doing quite well for herself in social work. She’s dating a nice guy—”
“Brian and I are not dating, Mom.”
My mom laughed. “She’s in denial. We all know they’re dating.”
I stabbed a piece of roast beef with no intention of eating it. “No, really, Mom. We’re not dating.”
“Okay. You’re not dating.” She said it unconvincingly—and unconvincingly on purpose. “She’s also been volunteering down at the youth center once a week.”
Chase smiled. “Sounds like a full, happy life.”
I raised my tea glass. “Full and happy.”
Chase’s phone beeped. He glanced down at it, saw the number, and frowned. “Excuse me a minute.”
When he stepped back a few minutes later, disquiet stained his features. “I think we have a lead on that minivan. I’ve gotta run.”
“You’ll come back again sometime, won’t you?” my mom called.
“Anytime, Mrs. Paladin. Anytime.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek before waving to me. “Good to see you, Holly.”
I pushed my plate away as I forced my smile. “You, too.”
But all I was thinking was: I was in a heap of trouble.
Jamie, too.
***
Five minutes later—a respectable amount of time, I thought—I excused myself from the dinner table, feigning a headache and hurrying to my room. My mom thankfully didn’t ask any questions.
As soon as I was in my room with the door locked, I called Jamie. “Where are you?”
“I’m doing some research at the library. Why?”
“The police have a lead on the van at the scene last night,” I whispered.
“What do you mean?” Her voice rose in pitch.
I did a quick rundown of dinner.
“You think the police are coming here?” A touch of fear reached her voice.
“I don’t know, Jamie. I have no idea. I’m going to ruin your life. I can’t let that happen.” I fell back on my bed and stared at the ceiling as tears pressed at my eyes.
“You’re not going to ruin my life. It’s like I said—I went along with your plan willingly.”
At that, I had a moment of sudden clarity and sat back up. “I’m going to go tell the police what hap
pened, Jamie. That’s all there is to it. None of this was ever my intention.”
Jamie softened her voice. “I know I was all encouraging you to talk to the police, Holly. Now I’m not so sure it’s a good idea.”
“Why?” Because she might be implicated?
“This is a murder investigation, Holly. You were there. No one’s going to believe you’re innocent.”
“I don’t even own a gun.” My voice squeaked higher than I’d like to admit.
“It was Katrina’s gun that was used at the scene.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m a reporter. I have my ways.”
“So they’ll think I took Katrina’s gun and shot the man.” I squeezed my eyes shut again.
“They could even believe your original story. Maybe you went there to do a random act of kindness. But what if you ran into the cousin, didn’t recognize him—thought he was a threat, for that matter—and you grabbed Katrina’s gun and shot him.”
“You’ve got this all worked out, don’t you?” I felt like I might pass out and began fanning my face.
“I just want you to think this through.”
Another thought hit me with the force of a Mack truck. “You don’t think I did it . . . do you?” Her theory seemed pretty well thought out.
“No, of course not. I know you’re innocent. I still remember you crying when we found that dead goose at the park that time. No way could you kill someone.”
“No way am I going to let you take the fall, either.”
I made up my mind. I was going to the police station. I had to own up to my part in all of this before I buried myself—or anyone else—any deeper.
CHAPTER 7
I stood at the reception area of the police station. I’d asked to talk to a detective, and the officer behind the desk had told me just one minute.
I began pacing, smoothing the folds of my dress. At least I’d look cute in my arrest photos.
A million thoughts rushed through my mind, and none of them were good. Well, the only good one was that I was doing the right thing, no matter how much the consequences would stink.
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