Murder in Real Time

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  “A little.”

  “Finally!” Adrian rushed from my kitchen to meet us at the door. “I texted you four times. I was ready to come and get you. What were you doing over there for two hours, anyway? Never mind. I don’t care.” His stormy blue eyes were wild with pleasure. “I have a surprise.”

  “You mentioned that.” I normally complained when he let himself in through the secret staircase hidden in the wall of my bedroom closet, but clearly this wasn’t the time. I hadn’t seen him so excited since he won the state spelling bee in third grade and got a new Nintendo with all the games.

  “Sit down.” He motioned us to the couch.

  “Is he okay?” Claire whispered. “He looks a little crazed.”

  Adrian stood before us, rubbing his palms together. A sudden frown replaced his eager expression. “Where’s Sebastian?”

  “He had a deposition with internal affairs.” Claire still worked with Sebastian at the FBI in Norfolk.

  I envied that sometimes.

  “What’s going on?” A deep tenor sent tingles over my spine, and my cheeks ached with a sudden smile. Sebastian stood in my open doorway with flowers and a bottle of champagne.

  Adrian’s jaw fell an inch before he recovered some of his enthusiasm. “I have something to tell you guys.”

  “It’s a surprise,” Claire added.

  Sebastian widened his stance. As a general rule, special agents didn’t love surprises. “Go on.”

  Adrian cleared his throat, evidently thrown by Sebastian’s entrance and gifts.

  “Fine. I rented my home through Halloween night and it’s all very hush-hush. I can’t give you all the particulars yet, but details are coming, I promise.”

  “And?” Sebastian leveled his gaze on Adrian, who rolled his shoulders back.

  “And I hoped I could stay here.”

  “With me?” My voice hitched on the second word.

  “Yes.”

  “No.” Sebastian moved inside and shut the door. He got a vase from under the sink and put the flowers in water.

  Adrian gawked at me, waving his palms as if I could change Sebastian’s mind. His panic compelled me to intervene, though I wasn’t sure whose side I was on yet. I took a few deep breaths. Was the air thinner in the upstairs apartment? Getting in the middle of these two always made it hard to breathe.

  I stood and faced the kitchen. “Um, well, let’s think this through.”

  Sebastian turned narrowed eyes on me. I shook my head at Adrian. He motioned wildly again. I stood back up and stepped toward the kitchen. Sebastian glared from Adrian to me.

  Claire giggled. The sound snapped me back to reality. This was my apartment. I decided who stayed here, not Sebastian. I anchored both palms over my hips and turned on Sebastian. Adrian took my seat on the couch and nudged Claire with his elbow.

  “I don’t see why he can’t stay here. Is there a reason you have a problem with that?” I cocked a hip for good measure.

  Sebastian looked past me to the couch, his expression blank.

  I moved forward until the toes of my goddess sandals bumped Sebastian’s shiny dress shoes. “Fine, then it’s agreed. Adrian stays here. You can stay here, too.”

  The corner of Sebastian’s mouth pulled down. “What if only I stay here with you and Adrian stays in my room at Island Comforts?”

  Oh. Yeah. That was better. My moment’s pause was enough to settle it. Sebastian tossed his key over my head.

  “Sweet.” Adrian jumped up and headed for the door.

  “Hey,” I turned to Adrian. “What was the secret you texted four times to tell me about?”

  “I told you all I can.”

  “You didn’t tell me anything.”

  He flashed his politician smile. “That’s because it’s a secret.”

  Adrian disappeared and Sebastian popped the cork on his champagne. “I’m glad that’s settled. Tonight we celebrate.”

  “What are we celebrating?”

  Claire sashayed across the floor and leaned over the little island in my kitchen. “I take it the deposition went well?”

  Sebastian slid a glass to Claire. “Internal affairs closed my case. I was cleared of all culpability. The board determined I’d followed every protocol on the operation and justice prevailed again.”

  “Congratulations.” She lifted the glass in a toast motion and sipped.

  Relief flooded through me. “What about Jimmy the Judge?”

  Jimmy the Judge was the mob boss who wanted Sebastian dead. Sebastian had worked undercover for eight months in Jimmy’s operation, infiltrating his crew and leading a bust that resulted in the death of five members of Jimmy’s crime family. Jimmy somehow turned to vapor and slipped between Sebastian’s fingers in the kerfuffle. Sebastian had moved onto the island to hide while he hunted Jimmy, and Jimmy hunted him. I got an ulcer.

  “We have fresh intel suggesting Jimmy’s in Vegas. I’m headed there in a few days to follow up on a couple decent leads.”

  I tipped my head and tossed back the alcohol. I didn’t want to think of Sebastian chasing Jimmy, but I didn’t want to open my mouth and ruin his good news either.

  Claire set down her glass. “Well, congratulations, Sebastian. Thank you, Patience, for a lovely dinner. Now, I’m heading home. It’s a long drive, and I have to get up early. I’ll leave you two to celebrate.” She winked.

  “Hey, how’d it go with the marshmallow from SWAT?” Sebastian asked.

  Claire screwed her mouth into a knot. “It’s funny you call him that because he was kind of like talking to a marshmallow.”

  I scrunched my brows together. “I thought when you called people marshmallows it meant they were soft and weak.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Claire said. “He was all muscle. Unfortunately, his head was one big muscle too. Hard as a rock.” She wrapped her knuckles against the side of her head.

  I pushed my bottom lip into a pout. “Bummer.”

  “Yeah, but it’s okay. Can we talk later?” She lifted a brow.

  “Anytime.”

  Sebastian lifted my glass with his and followed us onto the stoop outside my door. He sat. I walked Claire to her car, enjoying the cool night air.

  We reached the sidewalk as the Sheriff Fargas climbed out of his car. “Evening, Patience.” He took off his hat when he saw Claire. “Miss Claire.”

  Claire blushed on cue, accentuating her flawless mocha latte complexion, and lowered her long curly lashes. “Sheriff Fargas.”

  Those two had started flirting a few weeks ago and it still confused me.

  “I was on my way to the Tasty Cream for dinner,” he said. “Would you like to join me?”

  “I don’t know.” Claire looked at me. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Make an excuse for her? Encourage her?

  “Your phone’s ringing,” Sebastian called to me.

  At the same moment, Sheriff Fargas pulled his phone from his pocket. “Fargas.” His eyes shut for two quick beats before turning to Sebastian. The set of his jaw and rigidity in his stance was grim when he returned the phone to his pocket.

  Sebastian waved my phone in the air. “It’s still buzzing.”

  “Mine?” I called up the steps.

  “Yeah. Double-oh-seven.” Sebastian read the display.

  “That’s Adrian,” Claire interjected.

  Sebastian answered my phone.

  “I’m afraid I need a rain check.” Fargas touched Claire’s hand lightly and turned for his car.

  Sebastian bounded down the steps two at a time, keys in hand.

  “What’s going on?” Claire demanded as Fargas tore away from the curb in his cruiser.

  “Adrian found two dead bodies in my bed.”

  Chapter
Two

  Claire and I walked to the B&B after strict instructions from Sebastian to “wait here.” Nothing on the island was more than a few minutes away and parking at crimes scenes was terrible this year. Plus, the walk helped with digestion. It was a winning decision.

  Mrs. Moore, the owner of Island Comforts, opened the front door of her home-turned-B&B and tarried on the wide wraparound porch. She wiped her cheeks and then rolled her shoulders forward, winding pale, thin arms around her torso. Three other couples, ranging in ages from twenties to geriatric, huddled together along the porch railing. Crickets and bullfrogs played the evening score.

  I tugged on Claire’s hand. “We should wait with her.”

  She nodded.

  Claire and I moved along the sidewalk on quiet feet. Was there a proper way to approach Mrs. Moore without looking like busybodies? Maybe not saying anything was the answer. Sometimes just being present meant more than words. Mrs. Moore sniffled. My chest ached for her and the bodies Adrian had found.

  A white van with the Chincoteague Community Hospital logo pulled up to the curb. Two men bustled past with a gurney and an old-fashioned doctor’s bag. They would bring the bodies out soon. Another hospital van pulled up to the curb behind the first, and Claire squeezed my hand. Mrs. Moore whimpered as the men guided their gurneys into her home.

  Claire looked past me. “So, what do we do now?”

  I wrapped my arms around my middle. “I don’t know. I had a glass of champagne and plans for a celebration. Now there are more dead bodies. I still dream of the last dead bodies.”

  She looped her arm around my waist and leaned her head against me. “I know, sweetie. How about I stay here until we know a little more.”

  One more reason I loved her.

  Claire turned on me. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” I took another step toward the porch. Mrs. Moore looked wretched. A murderer had been in her home today. A shudder ripped through my chest. I knew what that felt like, too.

  Adrian joined her on the porch and Claire and I stopped short. He rubbed Mrs. Moore’s back and tilted his head to hers. His whispers floated into the night, unintelligible to my ears, but clearly welcome to hers.

  Claire sighed. “Look at him comforting her.”

  I nodded. Adrian smiled at the clearly terrified woman and guided her to a wicker chair against the porch wall. He was like that. Kind. Considerate. Real. I imagined Sebastian inside examining bodies and black lighting the room for prints and bodily fluids. That was his wheelhouse. Catching the bad guy. Finding answers. Bringing justice.

  Sheriff Fargas strode onto the porch from inside the house, wearing a mask of concentration and carrying a notepad. Claire made a strange hiccup sound.

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “That. That noise you just made.”

  She pursed her lips and waved to Adrian.

  He darted down the steps and met us on the sidewalk. He hugged Claire. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” Claire and I echoed.

  “Can you believe it?” He pulled me close, squeezing both of us against his broad chest. I inhaled his familiar scents of shampoo and mint. Adrian smelled like home. Like safety. Like assurance.

  He rested his chin on my head. “Someone shot them while they were in bed. What’s wrong with this island? It used to be so sweet and crime free. Now it’s like an episode of The Twilight Zone where everything looks warm and inviting, but then you realize it’s not what it seems, and there’s danger lurking in the pretty little package.”

  I pulled back for a better look at his face. “This island isn’t like that. A few deeply disturbed people did some bad things in a short period of time. That doesn’t equate to whatever you’re describing.”

  He frowned from the eight-inch height difference between us. “Hey, I’m traumatized over here. You have no idea what it’s like to find people like that.”

  I disentangled myself from his arm. “Don’t be so theatrical.”

  Adrian grimaced. “Funny you should say that. Theatrical.” He rubbed his chin.

  “Why?”

  “You haven’t asked who was in the bed.”

  I hadn’t. I wasn’t ready to lose another islander. Putting names to the losses would make them real. Official.

  “Who was in the bed?” Claire leaned back, angling her head for a better look at Adrian’s face, a full foot above hers.

  His blue eyes flashed. “Rick Fitzgerald and Anna Copeland.”

  Claire gasped. She covered her mouth with one tiny hand and pressed shiny green fingernails against her lips. “No,” she dragged the word out several syllables. So much for no more theatrics.

  Adrian nodded. He rubbed her back and shook his head.

  “Who?” I was the only link between Claire and Adrian. Wasn’t I? How could they both know someone I didn’t?

  Claire’s hand dropped to her side. “You’re kidding me. Right?”

  I made a crazy face. Why would I joke?

  She angled away from me, focusing completely on Adrian. “What were they doing in there?”

  Adrian’s pursed his lips and lifted both brows.

  “No.” Claire covered her mouth again. “They were in bed in bed.” She pushed her fist back and forth between them.

  “Yep.”

  She stomped her heels against the ground. “Oh. My. Glory. And you found them like that.” Her eyes bulged.

  “Yeah.” He grimaced. “It was bad.”

  “When you say bad...”

  I held my hands in a T, hoping that was still the sign for time-out. “Stop. You want to catch me up?”

  Fargas whistled from the porch. “Davis. You’re up.” He waved to Adrian.

  Mrs. Moore zombied down the steps to my side. She pressed a tissue to the corners of her eyes.

  “How are you holding up?” I asked.

  She groaned. “I feel absolutely horrid about this. Sebastian never stays in his room. I know it was wrong of me, but he rarely comes back at night, so when Rick Fitzgerald showed up and my other rooms were full, I had to do something. I couldn’t let him leave when a perfectly empty room was waiting. I didn’t think anyone would ever find out.” She sniffled into the tissue.

  “Wait. You knew him, too?” I ran through a mental list of islanders. I didn’t know any Rick or Anna. Definitely no Fitzgeralds, but I was gone for ten years, so they might’ve moved in while I was away.

  Mrs. Moore blinked her watery eyes. “Of course, dear. Who doesn’t know him?”

  Claire pointed to me. “Patience.”

  I shut my eyes and counted to ten slowly. What was I missing? How many ways could I ask the same question before someone answered?

  “Uh oh, she’s counting.” Claire stroked my arm. “Rick Fitzgerald is a reality television show host. He hosts Real Dates with Rick, Smart Girls Can Hunt and Cooking with Criminals.”

  I recognized the last one. “The cooking show filmed inside American prisons?” I bit my lip. I hated that show. Anyone who glorified prison life was bottom-feeding. America needed healthy role models, not corn muffins made by convicts. “Wait. What was he doing here?” There wasn’t a prison for a hundred miles.

  “I invited him,” Adrian called from the porch.

  “Nothing wrong with his hearing,” I muttered.

  Adrian shot me a thumbs-up while Fargas made notes on his pad.

  “Why’d you invite him here?” Claire hollered back. “Do you know him?”

  Fargas turned to look at her and she blushed. That needed to be addressed soon. “Why don’t you talk with the mayor while I finish up with Davis?”

  I assumed he was talking to me. “Okay.”

  “Not you.” Sebastian appeared behind me with a Maglite and a scowl.
>
  I pressed a hand to my chest. “How do you do that? Good grief. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

  His flat expression said no. “I’m checking the perimeter. Would you ladies mind moving off the walkway and onto the sidewalk until we finish up?”

  Mrs. Moore, Claire and I went to lean on Sebastian’s Range Rover.

  Claire elbowed my ribs. “Here comes the mayor. What do you think he has to do with this?”

  Mayor Hayes speed-walked up the road to us. “I came as soon as I heard.”

  A line of neighbors and spectators appeared across the street and down the block, keeping a respectful distance.

  Sebastian shot warning looks to the bystanders and closed in on the mayor. “You’ve heard the preliminaries? Victims’ names?”

  The mayor nodded.

  I interrupted. “Do you know why Rick Fitzthomas was here?”

  “Fitzgerald.” Four voices corrected me.

  Right. Fitzgerald. I didn’t get why Adrian invited him to the island. Was it some promo stunt for the election?

  The flash of a camera blinded me.

  “No pictures,” Sebastian called.

  The flash came two more times in quick succession.

  Sebastian growled, “Reporters.”

  The mayor tugged at his collar. “Tourism took a big hit last month. The shark sightings hurt our commerce in a mighty way. The influx of birders helped, but we’re a tourist town. We need every dollar. I thought I could boost winter tourism with a little something special, maybe put our town on the map before my term’s up. I really wanted to think outside the box, as they say. When I ran into Davis on the golf course, he had some ideas.”

  I turned my attention on Adrian. If he was asked to think outside the box, who knew what might happen. “How far outside the box?”

  “We arranged to have several episodes of The Watchers filmed on the island.”

  Claire stuffed half her fingertips in her mouth and jogged in place.

  Sebastian crossed strong arms over his chest. “What’s The Watchers?”