by Lynn, JB
“Figured you probably didn’t get dinner and would be hungry.” He offered me a greasy paper bag.
My stomach growled an affirmative response as I greedily snatched the food away from him.
Jack was much more polite as he took his. “Thanks, buddy.”
“How’d you find us?” I asked through my first mouthful of the world’s most delicious cheeseburger.
“He’s the one who ran the license plate for me,” Jack explained, shoveling fries into his mouth.
“So, I figured I’d come and see what kind of trouble you two were getting yourselves into,” Patrick elaborated.
“We haven’t seen anyone, yet,” Jack said.
Just as he spoke those words, a man came into sight. Spotting his big belly and white beard, I almost choked on my mouthful of food.
“It’s Santa.” Jack slid down in his seat a bit.
“Is it your father?” Patrick asked, leaning forward so that his warm breath fanned the back of my neck.
“No,” I answered quickly.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded. Squinting, I tried to determine whether Santa was Uncle Thurston. As he passed beneath a streetlight, I was relieved to see he wasn’t. “I don’t know him.”
“Well, he meets the description of the Soliloquy robber,” Jack said.
“Tell me why we’re here,” Patrick said with sudden intensity.
“Because the woman who provided the distraction for the attempted hit on Delveccio was driving a car that had the license plate that connects to this address,” Jack explained quickly.
“I heard about the attempt,” the redhead said.
“It was foiled by Maggie,” Jack told him. “She threw a butter knife at him.”
He chuckled at the memory.
“Wish I could have seen that.” Patrick placed a hand on my shoulder.
Santa reached the house and stopped in the driveway, looking around.
“And I’ve got to give her credit for getting us here,” Jack continued. “It was her idea to follow them out to the parking lot. She’s a lot more observant and resourceful than I thought.”
“She’s sitting right here,” I reminded him.
“Hey, I’m saying nice things about you.” Jack stole one of my French fries. “Do you want me to tell him the most important part of this whole thing, or do you want to do it?”
“Tell me what?” Patrick asked, squeezing my shoulder lightly.
I wasn’t sure if that was meant to prod me into spilling the beans or if he meant it to be reassuring.
I took a deep breath, knowing that he wasn’t going to be happy with the revelation. “There’s a chance that Jimmy Manetti is involved.”
Releasing me, Patrick sat back in his seat. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” Jack answered.
“No,” I argued. “Armani was supposed to meet a guy with an X on his forehead at Soliloquy. Jack says that matches Manetti’s description. That’s really all we know. Anything else is just supposition. There may be no connection.”
That argument went out the window as another man joined Santa in the driveway. I recognized him immediately.
“Dad,” I groaned.
“Take Maggie home, Jack,” Patrick ordered.
“What?” Jack and I asked simultaneously.
“Take her home,” the redhead repeated. “She doesn’t need to be involved in this. It will complicate things for everyone involved and make things worse.”
“He has a point,” God whispered.
“But—” Jack protested. “This was MY lead.”
“And if anything happens, I’ll give you an exclusive,” Patrick promised. “But you’ve got to get her out of here now. Drop me a block away, and I’ll double back.”
I twisted in my seat so that I could look into his green gaze. “Are you expecting something bad to happen?”
“If something goes south, I’ll have enough trouble explaining why I was here, let alone the presence of you two. Start the car, Jack.”
Muttering under his breath, the reporter did as instructed.
“I’ll do my best to keep your father safe,” Patrick pledged. “But I can’t promise anything.”
“I understand,” I answered. Without thinking, I reached into the back of the car and grabbed his shoulder. “You stay safe.”
He winked at me cheekily and my stomach did a little flip. For the most part, I was over my infatuation with him, but once in a while he still makes me weak in the knees.
“Sure,” Jack muttered, pulling away from the curb. “Him you tell to stay safe. Meanwhile, I’m losing out on the scoop of my career.”
Turning back around so that I was facing forward, I patted Jack’s shoulder. “There, there, Jack.”
He shrugged me off. “Your feminine wiles won’t work on me. Even if you are wearing that sexy black dress.”
Patrick made a coughing/choking noise in the back seat, but when I looked back at him, he was staring out the side window, the muscles in his jaw flexing like he was grinding his teeth.
“Now, if you were wearing something from your aunt’s store…” Jack murmured suggestively.
“Pull over,” the redhead ordered sharply.
Jack slid to a stop and Patrick hopped out of the car. “Remember, straight to the B&B and you STAY there.”
I gave him a mock salute.
Shaking his head, he closed the rear door of the car and disappeared into the shadows.
“Cops,” Jack groaned. “So bossy.”
“At least he brought food,” I said, needing to defend Patrick.
“Which will be cold once I get you home,” Jack complained.
We looked at each other.
Wordlessly, he pulled over to the side of the road so that we could devour the rest of our meals in silence.
“I need to go back to Soliloquy,” I announced as I finished my last French fry.
“No.”
“But I’ve got to get my car.”
Jack shook his head as he began driving again. “No way. I’m taking you straight to the B&B. If I don’t, Mulligan will have my head. I have enough enemies in this town. I don’t need to make him one of them.”
I didn’t argue.
“Maybe I can talk to Armani while I’m there?” Jack suggested.
I shrugged. “It’s late. But if she’s still awake, it’ll be up to her.”
“Sounds fair,” he said. “So, what’s the deal with your dad?”
“I don’t know.”
Jack glanced at me. “You can talk about it off the record if you want. I mean, we’re kind of friends, so I could offer you that privilege.”
I glanced over at him, surprised by the uncertainty in his voice.
“Don’t get too chummy with him,” God warned from my bra. “The guy is a crime reporter, after all.”
“So, is he lucky or something?” Jack asked.
“My dad? No, he’s pretty unlucky, I think.”
“No. I meant the lizard. Is he some kind of good luck charm?”
“Sort of,” I agreed slowly. It wasn’t like I could tell him that I kept the lizard with me because I appreciated his counsel…most of the time.
“So, he’s like a living, squeaking rabbit’s foot.” Jack nodded like that made some kind of bizarre sense.
“I do not squeak!” God bellowed, which of course sounded like animated squeaking to Jack, who chuckled.
“I am not a fornicating rabbit,” the lizard continued indignantly. “And I am not dead! And, and, and,” he sputtered. “All of my feet are attached!”
The last part made ME chuckle.
Soon, the uproarious laughter of Jack and I filled the car.
“It’s not funny!” God screamed.
Which I found hysterical and just laughed harder.
It was good that we got to release some of our internal tension in the car, because things were about to go downhill.
Chapter Twenty-one
The momen
t we pulled to a stop in front of the B&B, Marlene came flying off the front porch, racing toward us.
“This can’t be good,” I said to Jack as I climbed out of the car. “What’s wrong?” I asked my sister.
“What’s wrong?” she practically shrieked. “What’s wrong? The police are called to the place you’re having dinner and you don’t bother to call to tell us you’re okay?”
I tilted my head to the side. “You sounded a lot like Aunt Susan as you said that.”
“And she’s missing. Missing! And you don’t seem to care.” With that outburst, Marlene turned around and ran back to the house, slamming the door behind her.
Jack, who’d emerged from the car, asked, “Your aunt is missing?”
I shrugged. “Jury is still out on that one.”
“Hey, chica, bring tall, dark, and handsome over here,” Armani called from the porch.
Jack chuckled and began walking toward her before I did. “You’re just the person I wanted to see, Ms. Vasquez.”
“Armani. I keep telling you my friends call me Armani.”
“I didn’t want to presume that we’re friends,” Jack replied.
“If I had my way, we’d be friends with benefits,” Armani told him with a sexy wink.
Jack shook his head and hesitated before climbing up the steps, waiting for me to catch up as though he expected me to protect him from Armani’s advances.
We climbed the steps and perched on chairs near Armani, who sat in a rocker, gliding back and forth.
Armani focused on me. “Did you do any private private eyeing?”
Jack glanced at me sharply but held his tongue.
“Actually,” I began slowly, “I think we might know who your mystery date is.”
Armani stopped rocking. “Who?”
“A convicted felon by the name of Jimmy Manetti.”
My friend began rocking again. “Interesting.”
I stared at her incredulously. “Interesting? Most people would be horrified to know they had a date with a felon.”
“I didn’t actually have a date. He stood me up. Besides, we don’t know for sure yet it was him. And felons are people, too. They deserve love just like anyone else. Why—”
“This is a particularly violent felon,” Jack interjected.
Armani tossed her hair like she was annoyed with being bothered with these kinds of insignificant details.
I kicked off my shoes and bent over to rub my sore feet, almost squashing God against my lap in the process.
“Sensitive skin!” he yelped.
“What did he say?” Armani asked.
I gave her a hard look. Jack didn’t know that I talked to animals, and I wanted to keep it that way.
“We didn’t actually talk to your date,” Jack said, misunderstanding her question. “We just saw him. Well, Maggie saw him. I just saw his back.”
“I didn’t really—”
“Quiet!” God bellowed, interrupting me. “You weren’t just going to tell a crime reporter that a lizard saw him, were you?”
I gulped nervously.
“Didn’t really what?” Jack leaned closer to me, waves of curiosity coming off him.
“I didn’t really…” I said slowly, trying to come up with a plausible response.
“You didn’t really talk to him,” God coached.
“…really talk to him,” I repeated. “I told him to stop, but that was the extent of our conversation.”
“Good work!” Armani said enthusiastically. “I knew you could do this private private eye thing.”
“What private private eye thing?” Jack asked.
“I hired Maggie to solve the case, and she’s done it.” Armani used her good hand to beat on the arm of the rocking chair for emphasis.
“Nothing is solved,” I told her quickly. “We still don’t know why he wanted you there or whether he’s connected to the robbery.”
“He’s connected,” Jack said.
“How do you know?”
“It’s my professional opinion.”
“And you’re basing that on what?” I asked.
“My gut. My gut is never wrong.”
“Neither is mine,” Armani said.
I rolled my eyes but managed to refrain from mentioning that her last boyfriend had almost gotten her killed and that her last date had probably resulted in her being robbed and her house being blown up.
“Speaking of which,” Armani continued obliviously, “I need you to pull.” Reaching behind her, she brought the purple fabric bag out for me to see.
“You were sitting on them?” I asked.
“I was leaning on them. I had them lined up with my manipura.”
“Your what?” Any time she used the word “man”, she made me nervous.
“My manipura chakra.”
“The seat of her power and will,” Jack supplied helpfully.
Armani nodded her approval at him and then shook the bag at me. “Pull.”
Jack watched curiously as I removed seven Scrabble tiles from the bag.
When I went to hand them to Armani, she shook her head. “Put them on the floor.”
I laid out the tiles in alphabetical order.
D I L L L M O
“Don’t say it,” I warned, not wanting her to substitute the “m” with a “d”.
“I’ll mold,” Armani declared.
“What does that mean?” Jack asked.
She shrugged. “The spirits haven’t been very communicative lately.”
“Maybe it has something to do with pickles,” I suggested. “Since ‘dill’ is in there.”
“Oooh la la,” she trilled. “Maybe that means you can expect another visit from Angel soon. I wouldn’t mind a sample of his pickle.”
I hung my head and shook it as Jack erupted into laughter.
Aunt Leslie burst out onto the porch. Thankfully, she was fully clothed.
Putting her hands on her hips, she frowned at me. “Maggie, there is still no horseradish.”
“Sorry,” I said tiredly. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? I need it tonight.”
“Not for another summoning ritual, I hope.”
Glaring, she flounced back into the house, slamming the door behind her.
“A lot of door slamming goes on here,” Jack observed.
I scooped the tiles off the floor and put them back in the purple bag.
“Things are more unbalanced here than usual,” Armani told him. “Usually, Susan is here to help everyone out, but she’s been gone and Maggie’s failed to pick up the slack.”
“I’ve been kind of busy with other stuff, like acting as your private private eye,” I reminded her. “Replenishing condiments hasn’t been high on my priority list.”
“Maybe it should be,” she countered.
Angrily, I shoved the bag at her and jumped to my feet. “Fine. I’ll go find some horseradish now.”
“You’re supposed to stay here,” Jack reminded me pointedly. “And besides, you don’t have a car.”
“And whose fault is that?” I asked.
He held his hands up in surrender. “Don’t blame me. I was just following orders.”
“Whose orders?” Armani wanted to know.
Suddenly, there was a crash and a scream from inside the house.
“Now what?” I muttered, running in to find out what the latest catastrophe would be.
Chapter Twenty-two
Barefoot, I ran through the dining room and stepped on one of Templeton’s paint brushes that had rolled off the table. It wasn’t quite as painful as stepping on a Lego, but it was close and, as a result, I hopped into the kitchen on one foot while clutching the other. “Son of a—”
I forgot all about my pain the moment I entered the kitchen. It was replaced by soul-chilling terror.
Marlene stood petrified, eyes wide and pleading.
Blondie, my former attacker and Delveccio’s would-be assassin, stood behind her, his arm wrapped around her t
hroat, a gun pressed against her head. Another man, older and, if possible, even more sinister looking, stood beside them.
I felt God stir in my bra, but he mercifully remained silent.
I heard Jack and Armani approaching from the dining room. I considered warning them, but I was afraid of what Blondie might do to Marlene, so I remained silent.
Like me, Jack and Armani froze when they walked in and saw what was going on.
I caught Armani’s eye and knew she was wondering how her spirit guides couldn’t have warned her of this situation.
A tense silence filled the room. All I could hear was my own heartbeat thundering in my ears. I was the first to speak. “What do you want?”
“What’s coming to me,” Blondie’s companion replied.
“What’s going on, sugar?” Piss meowed from behind the door that led to the basement.
The noise startled the thugs and Blondie pointed the gun at the door, tightening his grip on Marlene’s neck.
“It’s just a cat,” I hurried to assure them. “Look, there’s her paw sticking out.”
Piss, always a quick thinker, stuck her paw out beneath the door, while meowing, “Talk to me, sugar.”
“She probably senses that two men have broken into the house and are holding Marlene hostage,” I said.
The two men turned their attention back to us.
“Nobody has to get hurt here, fellas,” Jack said calmly. “Tell us what you want and everyone can just walk away.”
Mr. Sinister sneered. “Aren’t you a cooperative one?”
“Maggie,” Aunt Leslie said, wandering into the kitchen. “I’m sorry about yelling at you about the horseradish.” Oblivious of the tension in the room and our unwelcome visitors, she wrapped me in a hug.
“It’s okay,” I murmured. “We have bigger problems to deal with right now.”
She drew back, looking horrified. “Bigger problems? Something has happened to Susan?”
Shaking my head, I gently turned her to face the intruders.
“Oh my!” she gasped.
“Where is he hiding?” Mr. Sinister asked. “Call him in here.”
I frowned, not wanting to place anyone else in danger, but not seeing an alternative to doing what they wanted.
“Templeton!” I yelled at the top of my lungs for the only human “he” who wasn’t in the room. “Templeton, it’s an emergency!”
