Three Times a Lady [Hell's Delight 4] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Karen Mercury

  Noel was filled with confidence and even egotism when his phone buzzed immediately, lit up with Autumn’s name he had already plugged in there. The possibility she might turn down his advance wasn’t even on his agenda, and he was right. She wanted to see him. Only not in the way he wanted.

  Noel, glad you texted. Can you come right away to Mia’s? Do you remember where it is?

  “Of course I fucking well remember where it is!” Noel fumed, finally aware that Autumn’s text and Alex’s text were more than likely about the same subject. He angrily grabbed his leather bomber jacket, not even bothering to download Clayton’s song, much less bring his iPod with him. Whatever Autumn and Alex wanted had nothing to do with what Noel had originally wanted, and he was pissed off.

  He didn’t even call Orlando like he was supposed to do. He was surprised the overzealous bodyguard hadn’t camped out on his porch yet, but Orlando was supposed to be manning the stables, cleaning saddles and bucking hay. His real job description wasn’t “bodyguard,” so Noel took the black Jeep himself to Sweet Home Road just outside of Hell’s Delight.

  He hadn’t been this way in thirteen years—not since The Friday Experience’s debut album had gone platinum and they’d been able to rent a decent recording studio in San Francisco. After the second album went platinum, they’d belonged to the world, their recording studios in New York, Berlin, and Dublin, the hometown of both Noel and Clayton.

  It had been much easier to forget about Autumn when in a city she’d never set foot in. Now, every turn of the valley road held some memory. There was Big Rock, where everyone used to drink beer and spray paint their initials. Noel laughed, remembering hiking to that rock in high school and crying out “Bones!” Clayton had said, “Yes, Scotty?” Noel had really been talking about some animal bones they walked by, but Clayton’s version was funnier.

  It was funny to remember Clayton doing something so mundane, when now he was off taping Letterman. Clayton had been appalled when Noel had originally returned to Hell’s Delight, and he continued to be appalled to this day. Clayton couldn’t understand Noel’s desire for a simpler way of life when he could be looking out his window at the sailboat pond in Central Park while drinking a martini.

  Sure, Noel would continue to tour, attend summit meetings, and to tape the occasional Letterman himself, but he couldn’t care less if he missed George Clooney’s next party. He was all partied out. At almost forty years old, he had different priorities in life. He had blown it royally with Autumn, but they had both been too young. They needed to live a full life before either was ready to settle down. It was just too bad that Autumn was long gone by the time Noel decided he was ready.

  Noel had the strange sensation of being in the wrong place and time as he rounded the last turn before Mia’s house. How many nights had Noel spent here, nodding off to a wave of crickets in the dead of night, waking up on warm summer mornings out on the deck? In many ways the carefree childish years were better, before fame had plucked him, Clayton, Lars, and Oso from obscurity.

  There! The garden gnome was still there, although now one hand and the tip of its red cap were busted off. Mia had already married and divorced Sam, lived in the same house, and Noel had been too preoccupied to even get married. Course, he’d won a mantel full of Grammys, too. Noel noted at least three horses picketed on the side yard.

  Weird that Alex Coldiron was waiting for him out front, pacing with his hands behind his back. Noel detected no sign of any fire.

  “What’s up, Alex? I got pretty much the same text from Autumn Chamberlain.”

  Alex looked temporarily confused, maybe not knowing that Noel and Autumn had been an item years ago. “What? Listen, this is kind of a complex story and I should have Autumn give you the background, which all started in Colorado years ago.”

  They headed toward the front door. “What does this have to do with a fire?”

  “Fire? What fire? Oh, you thought I was here—no, I’m here in my capacity as a reporter for the Journal. I was just contacted by someone Autumn may have known in her DA’s job, but I’ll let her tell you that part.”

  Noel was stunned when he entered Mia’s living room—not just to see the same threadbare pastel, glass, and oak hand-me-down eighties furniture, but to see Ewan sitting next to Autumn on a love seat. What the fuck? There was no room for Noel to crowd in there—Lacey and Mia occupied the other couch—and Ewan was snuggled so close his thigh was glued to Autumn’s. He was even holding her hand, wringing it with whatever angst was occurring. What the fuck was going on? Couldn’t her BFF Lacey comfort her? Noel took a seat on the oak coffee table, his knees touching Autumn’s.

  She sniffed, and her other hand held a tissue. Her eyes were red-rimmed and shiny with tears. “I didn’t feel the need to tell anyone anything. I’m so sorry for that. But I thought it was all contained in Colorado.”

  Ewan sandwiched her hand in both of his. “Tell Noel the story.”

  “Noel, I’m so fucking sorry. But this all has to do with me, and you’ve been inadvertently dragged into it. Has to do with a murderer I prosecuted five years ago, John Tremaine. He was known as The Freestyle Killer because six of his nine victims were dumped in swimming pools.”

  Noel nodded. “Catchy name.” He didn’t want Autumn thinking that he, too, would freak out over her story about mass murder.

  “Well, one thing that propelled me to come here—it wasn’t entirely my dad’s health, Noel. I could have gotten my brother to deal with it. But I was ready to make a move. I was burnt out, sick of dealing with death threats—”

  “Death threats?”

  “—and sick of the criminally insane. I mean, this guy had no remorse because he thought what he did was a calling from above. For a while we were afraid he’d get off on an insanity plea, but he was eventually deemed fit to stand trial. It was one of my sicker cases, Noel. The Freestyle Killer would abduct transients, homeless people, veterans usually, and use them as guinea pigs to study their spines. John Tremaine himself was a quadriplegic, an Iraqi war veteran, which is why we had such trouble convicting. But we did, although we never found his accomplice, the one who did the abductions for him.”

  Noel cringed. “So he’d abduct them and…cut them up as medical experiments?”

  “Exactly. Shoot them first, then cut them up. The crime scene was open and shut, with Tremaine unable to run and tons of bloody shoes, body parts, and so on. He got life without the possibility of parole.”

  “All right.” Noel wondered what this had to do with him. Apparently The Freestyle Killer was threatening Autumn from prison.

  Autumn continued, looking at Noel’s knees. “Well, right before I came out here last month, the killings started again in Golden. Two, then three bodies dumped in public swimming pools, their spines mangled. Of course there was a big uproar, everyone knowing we’d never caught the original killer. I couldn’t take that whole can of worms being reopened.”

  Now Ewan put his arm around Autumn’s shoulder. Since when had they become such back-slapping buddies? Noel felt his nostrils flare with anger. He wondered if Ewan was intentionally trying to piss him off. Noel had never really thought in detail about what Autumn had to do for a living. It had never struck him how dangerous it could be. “So how did Alex get involved?”

  Autumn looked teary-eyed at Alex, wordlessly telling him to pick up the story.

  Alex, sitting on a couch arm, continued in a practical tone of voice. “This morning I got an e-mail, from an untraceable public hotspot in downtown Sacramento, naturally.”

  Autumn said, “The real Freestyle Killer has always wanted notoriety. I guess he figured when Tremaine was convicted all the glamor and glory was taken from him, and he couldn’t stand being ignored anymore. That happens. Killers like this get very angry if their demands for publicity are ignored, and they usually escalate.”

  Noel said, “Is that what he’s doing? Demanding publicity? That’s why he’s contacting Alex?”

  “Exactly,�
� said Alex. “Obviously, he’s moved from Colorado into this area and he wants his feats publicized. I’m talking with the FBI and my editor about how to handle that part of it. But we thought you should know because you were mentioned in the e-mail.”

  Noel’s heart practically stopped. “What?” he whispered. He looked at Ewan. Ewan nodded soberly. Noel looked to Autumn. “Why would they mention me?”

  Autumn sat forward, wrenching her hand from Ewan’s. Now she put her hands on Noel’s knees, and her plea was sincere and heartfelt. “It’s all because of me, Noel. I can’t apologize enough for this mess. You don’t deserve to be embroiled in it.”

  “Why am I embroiled in it? Because of my connection with you? How does he even know we have a connection unless—” It hit Noel. The real Freestyle Killer must have been in the Pit last night. If he was targeting Autumn, he could have even followed them on their drive to lover’s lane up the hill. He stuck out a hand to Alex, who had been fingering a folded-up piece of paper. “Let me see that e-mail.”

  “I’m so sorry,” whispered Autumn.

  “It’s not your fault,” Noel said with authority. It wasn’t her fault. How could she have predicted the Freestyle Killer would go after her, much less involve Noel in his scheme?

  Dear Mr. Coldiron,

  The real and true Freestyle Killer writes to you now, and only you. I will sign no contract with any other publisher to sell my story, so you will get your commission. Miss Chamberlain knows how ruthless and heartless I am—how I carved those bags up and WHY I did WHAT I did with those Remington cartridges.

  I am going to continue to draw attention to the righteous cause of the Army vet and the next mouthpiece for my work will be Miss Chamberlain’s new BOYFRIEND Noel Butler who has often sung about war. He clearly knows the plight of the war-torn vet. I guarantee you Noel Butler will be eager to be my mouthpiece just as you, Mr. Coldiron, will publish this in the Journal.

  To prove I am who I say I am, the next one won’t be deposited in a pool but underneath the Princess. If you do not print this letter I will continue picking off veterans to bring attention to their plight.

  He’d written a Prince-like symbol for his name. What an egomaniac. Handing Alex back the paper, Noel said, “Well, I certainly won’t be his fucking mouthpiece. This fucking gobshite better think twice if he thinks I’m going to talk about him to the media. This guy’s clearly batshit. What’s this about putting a body underneath a princess?”

  Alex said, “We haven’t figured that out yet. Evidently he mentioned the Remington cartridges to establish himself as the real killer and the FBI confirmed they found those cartridges on the floor. Ewan tells me you’ve got a de facto bodyguard. I suggest you continue to use that guy. In fact—Lacey, you called that guy, didn’t you?”

  “Orlando should be on his way,” said Lacey. “With Tom.”

  “Oh, God,” whined Noel. “Not those guys again. Alex, I’ve been stifled not being able to go anywhere without them. I was even thinking about showing up in town not disguised as a communist leader. It’s fucking time Ewan and I declare to the town our intents.”

  “Ah,” said Alex guardedly, “now might not be the best time for those kinds of declarations, Noel. Who knows—this guy might be a homophobe. I mean, look. He thinks that killing homeless vets will draw attention to their plight? That’s kind of backward thinking.”

  Autumn hastened to add, “And he’s already threatened to kill again, Noel. No, you’ve got to use Orlando and Tom. I’m sorry. I was just telling Ewan here”—and again, she preferred to grab Ewan’s hand rather than take Noel’s—“that this is so potentially dangerous you might just want to get out of the state for a while. I’m sure you have some mixing to do in Dublin or wherever.”

  Ewan added, “You’ve got that Naples conference coming up.”

  Noel stood, the better to pace around. “I’m not leaving any fucking state! This is my home now and I just bought some fucking land to build a fucking house on.” Noel thought he saw Ewan and Autumn exchange glances, but he barreled right on ahead. “If this moldy maggot thinks I’m going to be his fucking mouthpiece, he’s got another think coming. I’ve received death threats plenty, Alex.”

  “What death threats?” Ewan demanded to know.

  Noel had actually never told Ewan about the death threats. “Well, of course, I’m opinionated. I spout off like a fucking gobshite what I think about certain politicians. I get death threats all the time, Ewan. Of course I take them seriously, but I can’t let them ruin my life. And what about Autumn here? She’s this snake’s real target. Shouldn’t the FBI be sending her some bodyguards?”

  “Well,” said Alex, “contrary to television, the FBI moves at a snail’s pace. Every I needs to be dotted and every T crossed before they authorize something like that. So I recommend just using Orlando and Tom until the FBI gets their shit together.”

  “We can share them,” Autumn told Noel. “Ewan and I discussed it. I’ll take Tom. Orlando is bigger so he can cover both you and Ewan.”

  Ewan and I, Ewan and I. Already Noel was sick of it. “Did you have any clue at all as to the identity of this tool?”

  Autumn said, “He’s obviously some unbalanced veteran, just like John Tremaine. Possibly they served together, that’s what we figured at the time. They’re tracking down men from Tremaine’s unit, but of course it’s not as efficient as they depict on TV.”

  Alex was at the window. “Here come Orlando and Tom. Autumn, what time was your care facility appointment?”

  Autumn looked at her smart phone. “Two. Oh, shit.”

  Ewan, who suddenly seemed to know everything to do with Autumn, stood and told Noel, “She has to meet her father and his nurse at some rest facility near Auburn. I don’t want her driving alone, so I—”

  “We’ll all go,” Noel said flatly, reaching a hand down to Autumn. “Come. We’ll figure out the bodyguard details later. I remember your dad. He was always funny, wanting to sing along with me. I’d like to see him again.”

  He was relieved when Autumn took his hand and stood too. “Well, not like this, Noel. He might not remember who you are, although he does have a better capacity for long-term memory than short term. He might remember you, but not me.”

  That one detail suddenly slapped Noel upside the head. The sorrow of Autumn’s predicament hit home with him. Rick had always been so light-hearted and goofy, calling Noel “son” and convincing Noel and Clayton to sing “The Times They Are a-Changin’” along with him. A wave of what could only be called love washed through his chest, and he wrung Autumn’s hand.

  “I don’t care. He is what he is, Autumn. You need bodyguards, and I happen to have a couple. Right, Orlando? We’re going to Auburn to some Alzheimer’s facility.”

  “Sure as shootin’,” agreed Orlando.

  Mia said, “I’m sorry we had to meet again under such circumstances.”

  So Noel had to release Autumn’s hand and take Mia’s. “Don’t worry, Mia. I’m so sorry about Sam. I have lots of fond memories of this house.”

  He couldn’t linger long, though, because they had to meet Autumn’s dad and his nurse. The three newfound friends all rode in the back bench seat of the black Jeep, Orlando driving, Tom in the passenger seat.

  The two men in the back vied for Autumn’s attention, and Noel could easily see this was going to be a competition. Autumn had somehow cast a spell on his lover while Noel was off not paying attention.

  He knew he couldn’t ignore Autumn any longer. He could no longer pretend she wasn’t an important part of his heart. Because it looked as though she’d snagged part of Ewan’s heart, too.

  Chapter Six

  Ewan knew they had some kind of intertwined destiny with Autumn Chamberlain.

  He’d realized it while they were riding horses on the ridge. Once Autumn had confided in him that she was a sapiosexual, he’d completely let his defenses down. He believed her that she posed no threat, although of course he’d immediately goog
led “sapiosexual” on his phone the second they were safely on their way to Auburn.

  So. She was a person who found intelligence the most sexually attractive feature.

  She had certainly met her match in Noel. Ewan had seen a YouTube video once of Noel debating several top economists over the IMF and the debt crisis. The great majority of it was completely over Ewan’s head. Intelligence was not an issue with Noel. He had it. So now, Ewan no longer felt threatened by Autumn, and he became more accepting of her relationship with Noel.

  Noel greeted Mr. Chamberlain at the Leafy Pines facility in Auburn. Autumn’s father shook Noel’s hand and recalled him.

  “You,” said Rick, “you were the guy who was always singing with that band. You had that one ridiculous song about red daisies. What was your guitarist’s name? Clayton, right. And the bassist was Lars Lindstrom. I used to golf with his father Anders over at Red Rocks.”

  “Right,” agreed Noel, “they lived on Zoo Street, right around the corner from you. You still live there?”

  Apparently that wasn’t the correct question, for the gleam in Rick’s eye became vague then. “Live?” He looked at the nurse who Ewan was led to believe had only been hired that morning. Apparently Rick recognized the nurse. “Who is this woman?”

  The nurse Mary Lee touched Rick’s shoulder. “This is your daughter, Autumn.”

  Noel took Autumn by the arm. Ewan was painfully aware of the hurt in Autumn’s eyes. Her prediction was right. Her Dad had recognized Noel, but not her. “This is your daughter. Remember? I was her boyfriend. I used to annoy you singing those rock songs—”

  Rick cackled. “That horrible one about the red daisies!” He began to sing one of The Friday Experience’s songs, tunelessly. “‘Nothing gonna get you to heaven unless you let your feelings show, and reach that perfect energy—’”