by Lynn, JB
“He’s the manny,” Leslie supplied helpfully.
“I’m the psychic,” she told him.
He blinked, as though unsure what that meant.
“And a matchmaker,” she added. “A psychic matchmaker. Are you a certified lifeguard?”
To his credit, Angel didn’t respond with, “Are you a certified nut job?”
“Because what Katie really needs is a lifeguard.”
Angel turned a beseeching gaze in my direction. His desperate need to understand the situation clear.
“She’s my friend,” I started slowly.
“And her psychic,” Armani interrupted. “But not her matchmaker. She won’t let me set her up with anyone. Now that I’ve met you, I know why.”
“Shouldn’t you have known that without meeting him?” I asked cuttingly.
“A-ha!” She waved her pointer finger at me. “You admit it.”
“What? No! I was--”
“You’ve got the hots for the manny,” Armani crowed victoriously.
“I don’t!” I protested a tad too forcefully.
“Loretta has the hots for him,” Leslie offered.
“Loretta has the hots for the octogenarian down the street who smells like mothballs,” I snapped.
The doorbell rang, interrupting the madness.
“Who else did you invite?” I asked Leslie.
Instead of answering me, she hurried from the room to answer the door.
Undeterred by the interruption, Armani eyed poor Angel like he was fresh meat.
“I bet you don’t smell like mothballs,” she purred seductively, leaning closer to Angel as though she was going to take a whiff and find out.
Angel leaned backward in his chair to escape her.
“He smells like vanilla,” Aunt Loretta declared, prancing into the room in heels that were too high and a dress that was too low-cut. She ran an appraising eye over Angel, who, amazingly, seemed to be turning a lovely shade of pink. “He probably wouldn’t even know what to do with half the things in my store.”
Angel reddened, though I wasn’t sure if it was due to embarrassment or anger.
“Leave the man alone,” I ordered.
“Big day, huh?” another man asked as he strode into the room.
“A successful match!” Armani cried, focusing on the newcomer. “Tell them, Brian. Tell them about you and Stephanie. How I matched you.”
Detective Brian Griswald, nephew of US Marshal Griswald, froze like a deer in headlights when faced with Armani’s demand.
“You’re making Detective Griswald sound like half of a pair of socks,” I warned.
“He’s a success story,” Armani insisted.
“What brings you here, Detective?” I asked, determined to keep the conversation off the topic of Angel.
“Heard you had a little trouble here last night. My uncle thought an extra pair of eyes around on the big day couldn’t hurt.” The detective slid his gaze in the direction of the mob boss’s nephew as he spoke.
Angel locked eyes with him. “Donut, Detective?”
I wasn’t sure whether that was a dig, and could tell from Brian’s hesitation that he wasn’t certain either.
“I got them to celebrate,” Leslie explained. “Sit. Have coffee. Something to eat.”
Brian did as he was told.
Considering that Brian had helped me out on more than one occasion I was happy to have him around.
Loretta sat down in the seat on one side of him, while Armani planted herself on the other side. Both women started to talk to him at once, and I’m pretty sure a fleeting look of panic flashed across his face.
Deciding that this was the perfect time to escape, I caught Angel’s eye. “Run,” I mouthed.
A smile lifted the corners of his mouth and erased some of the furrows in his forehead.
Grabbing my pecan roll, I took my own advice and quietly got out of the room. Angel followed a moment later.
“You can still quit,” I told him as we slipped out the kitchen door. The faint scent of smoke from the previous night’s impromptu bonfire still lingered.
“I told you, I don’t run.”
“You said you don’t run at the first sign of trouble.” I handed him half of my pecan roll. “In case you haven’t noticed, the first sign of trouble has been eclipsed by ten others.” I licked some of the sweet stickiness off my finger. “It’s okay to quit. We’ll manage without you.”
“How?”
I shrugged. “We always manage.” I leaned with my back against the siding of the house.
“Meaning you always manage?”
I looked away.
He leaned closer. “Maggie.”
I kept my gaze focused on a tree in the distance. “What?”
“Look at me.”
I stubbornly refused.
I heard him suck in his breath.
I held my own. I’d meant it when I’d said we’d manage without him, but that didn’t mean I really wanted him to go. At the same time, I couldn’t be responsible for shackling him to this house full of crazy.
I frowned at the pair of neighbors in their perfectly coordinated outfits, who, out powerwalking together, pointed at the house and shook their heads.
“More grist for the neighborhood gossip mill,” I muttered.
“Ignore them,” Angel replied. “Take it from someone who grew up with that kind of thing, it’s not worth getting worked up about.”
I turned to face him and was surprised to find that he was eating his pecan roll.
He held up a finger to stop me from speaking, chewed, swallowed, and finally said, “This is good.”
“You don’t understand. The events of the last twelve hours weren’t an anomaly. They’re the status quo around here. There’s always a reason to stare at this house. We’re solely responsible for the decline in the neighborhood’s property values. It’s normal for U.S. Marshals and the police to show up on a semi-regular basis.”
Angel shook his head. “Sorry, you’re not scaring me off that easily.”
“I’m not trying to scare you off. I’m giving you an accurate picture of what goes on in this house of horrors.”
He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t think that maybe you’re being a little overdramatic?”
I huffed an exaggerated sigh and turned back to face the road.
Angel chuckled, but I ignored him since I noticed someone sitting in a sedan a couple of houses down. He seemed to be watching the house.
“Is she really psychic?”
“What?” I muttered, distracted by the guy surveilling the B&B.
“Your friend. Is she really psychic?”
“Sorta.”
“Is she obsessed with lifeguards?”
I shook my head. “She thinks Katie is going to drown.” Before Angel could ask me anything else, I decided to confront the guy in the car. I stalked down the driveway and headed right for him.
“Maggie?” Angel called after me, confused.
Ignoring him, I kept my laser-like gaze on the driver of the car. I was going to let him know in no uncertain terms that I was aware of him and that he wasn’t going to harm my family.
Rivgali had messed with the wrong woman.
“I see you!” I yelled as I approached the car. “I see your ugly face.” That was a lie since I couldn’t actually see his face through the tinted window.
“Maggie,” Angel yelled, now clearly alarmed.
I heard his footsteps nearing as he chased after me, but I wasn’t about to be deterred.
“You don’t scare me,” I raged. Another lie, but hey, I was hoping my blustering act would scare him off.
He lowered his window and when I saw his face, I was left speechless.
“Good morning, Miss Lee.”
I stared at him. I wasn’t facing Rivgali. Instead, I was face-to-face with Kevin Belgard.
Chapter Thirteen
The man my mother blamed for what had happened to Darlene, flashed his bad
ge at me. I couldn’t tell whether he recognized me from when I’d checked out his house.
The bottom dropped out of my stomach and it took every ounce of my self-control not to turn around and run away so that I could regroup.
“Everything okay?” Angel asked, coming up behind me and putting a hand on my shoulder as though he sensed I needed the support.
Belgard showed him his badge and replied easily, “I’ve been asked to help keep an eye on your place after last night’s excitement.” He looked pointedly at the circle burnt into the front yard of the B&B. “Was there something I can help you with?”
I shook my head, not trusting myself to speak, afraid that if I opened my mouth, I’d start asking what he’d had to do with my sister’s disappearance.
“Thanks for keeping an eye out,” Angel said smoothly. Draping his arm across my shoulders, he gently turned me around and led me back to the house.
I was shaking by the time we reached the backyard.
“Breathe,” Angel urged, pulling me closer to him.
I knew I should shake his arm off of me, but it felt good to be connected to something solid. For once, Aunt Loretta was right. He did make me feel safer.
DeeDee trotted up. “Wrong what is?”
Instead of answering her, I tossed her my half of the pecan roll, which I’d realized I was still holding. She devoured it instantly.
“What if he hadn’t been a cop?” Angel asked quietly.
Before I had to answer, Brian Griswald marched around the corner. “You can’t go blowing the protection detail’s cover like that.”
Stepping away from Angel, immediately missing the weight of his arm grounding me, I glared at the detective. “I didn’t know he was a cop. No one told me.”
“I was going to, but you abandoned me in Armani’s clutches,” Brian snapped back.
“I thought you were one of her success stories,” I mocked.
He opened his mouth to protest, then slammed it shut. Shaking his head, he said, “Susan asked me to remind you you’ve got to put the child safety seat in your car before you go to pick up your niece.”
“Consider me reminded.” I was secretly grateful for Susan’s micro-managing ways since I had forgotten about the safety seat.
“I can help you with that,” Angel offered.
“I can manage.”
“Of course you can,” he muttered, walking past me and stalking into the house.
Brian watched him go. “Are you sure it’s the best idea having him around?”
I shrugged. “He wasn’t my idea. I told your uncle that.”
“Oh, we believe you. We’re just wondering if you should try to get rid of him.”
“I have other things to worry about.” Spinning away, I hurried toward my car.
“I know how to put one of those things in correctly,” Brian said, falling into step beside me.
I glanced at him. “How hard could it be?”
“You’d be surprised how difficult it is to wrestle it into place. You’ve got to be a contortionist with Herculean strength.”
I didn’t believe him at the time, but twenty minutes later, sweaty and tired from the ordeal, I knew he hadn’t been exaggerating.
Brian poked his head into the car. “Ready for a hand?”
To his credit, he didn’t smirk, which made it easy for me to answer with a heartfelt, “Please.”
After five more minutes of struggling and tugging, the seat was in place.
“Now you’re all set.” Brian wiped sweat from his brow.
“Thanks,” I gasped breathlessly. This whole parenting thing was proving to be way harder than I’d ever imagined.
Brian headed back into the B&B while I gathered up the scraps of cardboard and packing materials. Once I’d deposited all of the trash into a garbage can, I became aware that Angel was sitting in a lawn chair, petting DeeDee. They were both watching me.
“Loretta’s gone to get the cupcakes and balloons,” Angel informed me as I approached the man and dog. “Leslie’s gone to a meeting, Armani is talking Templeton’s ear off about her psychic gifts, and Susan is waiting to go with you to the hospital.”
“Will you be here when I bring Katie home?”
He squinted at me slightly before slowly standing up.
DeeDee huffed her disappointment that he’d stopped petting her.
“There are some things you need to understand,” Angel said seriously. “I don’t lie. I don’t play games. I do what I say I’m going to.”
“So that’s a yes?” I quipped.
“Yes,” he said without cracking a smile. “I’ll be here when you get back.” His eyes bored into mine as though he was trying to see right into my soul. “Are you okay with that?”
I nodded, hoping he couldn’t see how pleased I was in his answer. It had been a long time since I’d had someone forthright and dependable in my life.
“He’ll probably cry,” Angel warned suddenly.
“Who?”
“My uncle.”
“You mean your nephew?”
Angel shook his head. “No. I definitely mean my uncle.”
I had a couple of errands to run before going to get Katie. The first involved stopping at the pet store to pick up a bag of live crickets to feed to the lizard.
When I got back to my car, I found a tall man leaning against it, eyes closed, black leather jacket thrown open, face tilted back to soak in the sun.
“Hey,” I said.
Jack Stern opened his eyes and looked at me. “You could have let me know that Rivgali paid you a visit last night.”
I winced, realizing he was right. A crime reporter would appreciate a tip like that. “I didn’t even think of it,” I admitted guiltily.
Jack pushed himself off the car. “No big deal. I heard about it on the police scanner.” He waited a beat, as though he expected me to tell him some nugget of info that hadn’t been announced.
“There was a rat statue in the middle of the fire.”
“A rat statue?”
I nodded. “Two or three feet high.”
He frowned. “Where does one find a rat statue?”
I shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I saw.”
“Next time something happens with Rivgali, give me a call.”
“I will.”
He walked away.
“Jack?” I called after him.
He looked back.
“Thanks for the heads up.”
“Be careful, Maggie,” he lectured before continuing on his way. “I suspect that fire was just Rivgali’s way of getting started. Things could get a whole lot worse.”
I nodded, totally expecting they would.
My second stop involved a trip to the craft store to pick up some art supplies for Katie, a suggestion from one of her therapists that I should have material on hand for her to use to express herself.
Not the artsy-crafty type myself, I marveled at the treasures each row held, everything from artificial flowers to skeins of yarn to every kind of adhesive known to man.
I was in the paints aisle when I saw him, or, more accurately, sensed him. One minute I was trying to choose between watercolor sets and the next I felt someone watching me.
I spun around, but he was quick. I only saw his back as he quickly ducked down another row.
Telling myself I was being paranoid, I put paint, brushes and paper into my shopping cart. I tried to tell myself I was just being paranoid, but then I remembered that I had reasons to believe someone was after me.
I headed back to the aisle where they kept the scissors, deciding it couldn’t hurt to arm myself, dashing around families and sales associates at a breakneck speed.
I’d almost reached the pinking shears when he came around the corner at full speed, knocking his cart into mine.
Every muscle tightened as I was sucker-punched by panic as I faced Arnold Rivgali, older, harder, if possible, even meaner. I instantly recalled the story about how he’d cut off the
fingers of a rival, one an hour for seven hours until the cops, alerted by his victim’s screams, had arrived on the scene. Bile rose in my throat.
