4 Arch Enemy of Murder

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  As soon as she entered the Stakely building, her grandfather pounced and held her captive the rest of the day as they moved from one last-minute emergency to the other. She had no idea where his energy or stamina came from. She was exhausted by lunch, but he showed no signs of slowing down. As soon as they finished their quick meal, he was back in the game, managing contractors and construction workers like Randolph Hearst probably once shepherded reporters. She thought he was going to miss the hustle and bustle of working every day when it was over.

  “We should get supper,” her grandfather finally announced. Lacy looked at the clock with a yelp. It was quarter ‘til six.

  “Jason is picking me up in fifteen minutes,” she said as she looked down at her dusty self in dismay.

  “Let’s go,” Mr. Middleton said. Always quick and calm in an emergency, he bustled her toward the door and drove her home posthaste.

  She ran inside, unbuttoning her clothes as she ran down the hall. She prayed Riley wouldn’t be home and hogging the bathroom. Her prayers were heard and answered because Riley was nowhere in sight. Lacy jumped in the shower and made the military proud with her fast wash and sparse use of water. She didn’t have time to wash her hair, but it had been piled in a bun all day. Hopefully it would lay well when she took it out.

  As she toweled dry, she took her hair out of the bun and shook it, and then caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She was a mess; her hair wasn’t behaving, and she wore no makeup. As she dashed to the bedroom and threw off her towel, she mentally reviewed her wardrobe. What had Jason not seen her in that would look good? While she frantically flipped through her clothes with one hand, she brushed her hair with the other. Her fingers landed on a brown dress. On its own, it was drab, but it fit her well, didn’t clash with her hair, and could be dressed up with jewelry. She tossed the brush on the bed, threw on the clothes, grabbed shoes and jewelry, and sprinted back to the bathroom.

  The bathroom floor was covered with water, and she slid, smacking her shoulder on the door.

  “Everything okay in there?” Mr. Middleton called.

  “Fine,” Lacy called.

  “Slow down; he’s not here yet, and when he gets here, I’ll stall. It’s probably time for us to have another conversation anyway.”

  That statement made Lacy hurry faster. If Mr. Middleton had another “conversation” with Jason, then he would wind up as anxious and frazzled as she was. She applied her makeup in record time, finishing just as the doorbell rang. She turned toward the living room when she remembered that she hadn’t applied deodorant. With a frustrated huff, she dashed back to the bathroom, slathered herself in deodorant, added a tiny dab of perfume, and grabbed the necklace she had draped on the counter.

  Jason was prompt, but Lacy was ready. Unfortunately, she was also hyperventilating. She paused on the threshold of the living room, leaned against the wall, and forced her breathing to return to normal. Then she stepped into the living room and realized all her work was for naught. Jason was holding flowers, and he looked so good that Lacy began to hyperventilate all over again.

  Chapter 13

  “Hey,” Jason said. He smiled, and Lacy forgot everything—the hectic day, the frantic scramble to get ready, even her hunger after skipping lunch.

  “Are those for me?” she asked as she eyed the bundle of wildflowers in his hand. Sweet pea caught her attention, but she wasn’t sure what the other flowers were.

  “I’m fairly certain they’re not for me,” Mr. Middleton said.

  “They’re for you,” Jason said. He held them out to her and eyed the necklace in her hand. “Tell me that’s not for me.”

  “That would certainly put a whole different spin on the evening,” she said. “Let’s put these in water before we go.” He followed her to the kitchen where they encountered her grandmother.

  “Oh, hello kids,” she said. “Cookie?” she held up a spatula in their direction.

  “No thanks, Grandma,” Lacy said. Lucinda set down the spatula and gawked at Lacy.

  “Are you sick?” Jason asked. He stepped forward and rested his hand on her back.

  Had they never heard her turn down a cookie before? Probably not. “I skipped lunch today. I’m afraid the sugar will go straight to my head. Save some for later, please. Hide them from Riley,” she added with a furtive clutch of her grandmother’s hands.

  Lucinda nodded, looking relieved. “You kids have fun,” she called.

  “Your grandma is so nice,” Jason commented. He held the door for her and moved aside as she walked through.

  “That she is,” Lacy agreed. He held the car door for her, too. She slipped inside and clasped her hands in her lap. She felt inexplicably nervous, as if this was their first date when in reality they had spent copious amounts of time together. Things were different now, though. Ever since New York, their relationship had taken on a more serious tone. For so long they had been hedging each other, dancing around the buildup. Now the buildup was over, and it was do-or-die.

  Lacy quashed the need to fidget by flicking the clasp of her purse with her thumb. Jason glanced at her, and she realized she was probably driving him crazy with the noise. “Sorry,” she said.

  “How was your day?” he asked.

  “Hectic. How was yours?”

  “The same. I’ve been tying up loose ends with the Merleputter case.”

  “You don’t have any doubts that Pearl did it, do you?” Lacy asked.

  “No, I really don’t. She had motive, means, and opportunity. Did you know her house was through the woods from where the murder scene was? All she had to do was walk through the woods, wait for his car, and shoot. It would be nice if we could find the bullet for a ballistics match, but the coroner said the hole in his chest matches what would have come from her rifle. In a perfect world, we would get a confession, but we don’t need it. Even her lawyer thinks she’s guilty. He’s hoping to talk her into an insanity defense for battered spouses, but…” he trailed off with a shrug.

  “I don’t see her going for that,” Lacy said.

  “Neither do I, and I’m not sure it would work anyway. She’s not exactly a sympathetic victim, what with the abrasiveness and large size.”

  “You think because she’s large and fierce people will think she deserved to get beaten?” Lacy asked.

  “Not consciously, of course. But you never know what a jury is going to do. Small, meek women definitely get more sympathy.”

  “That’s terrible,” Lacy said.

  “People are terrible,” Jason said. “Let’s not talk about work. It’s depressing.”

  The conversation fell into an uncomfortable lull. They rode in silence to the Greek place. “I hope steak is okay,” he said. He parked and turned off the car.

  “Steak is great,” Lacy said. By the time she unbuckled her belt and reached for her purse, Jason was there. He opened her door and gave her a hand out. She took a step toward the restaurant, but he pulled her back.

  “This feels weird, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes, but why? It’s not like it’s our first date,” she said.

  “It sort of is, though. This is the one I’m going to write about in my diary. It’s a lot of pressure, and I feel kind of nervous, like if I mess it up tonight it’s over forever.”

  She took a step closer and rested her hands on his stomach. “You’re nervous about tonight?”

  He nodded and eased closer as he slipped his arms around her.

  “And you have a diary?”

  “Forget you heard that part; I said it for effect. Why don’t we pretend that we’re at my house and this is no big deal. I’m making steak for you, and you’re pretending to make a salad while really stealing all the croutons. It’s just you and me and that’s it.”

  “Deal,” Lacy said. “Also, and just so you know, I’m going to rifle through your possessions next time we’re together.”

  “I don’t actually have a diary. I was kidding.”

  “We’ll see,�
�� she said. “And I will be checking in the pocket of your man robe, the silk one with the hood.”

  “That robe was a gift,” he said. He draped his arm on her shoulders as they walked toward the restaurant.

  “From whom?” Lacy asked. Her jealousy was immediate and intense.

  “From me, to me, okay? Why do you always ask follow-up questions? I like the way silk feels. There’s nothing feminine about that. Chinese men have worn silk for thousands of years.”

  “So you wear silk because it makes you feel like a ninja, and then you write about it in your diary,” she clarified.

  “Let’s go back to when it felt stilted and awkward and you weren’t making fun of me,” he suggested. He held up two fingers to the hostess to indicate how many were in their party.

  “But, Jason, making fun of you is half the joy of our relationship.”

  “You just admitted we have a relationship; it’s like a giant leap forward for mankind.”

  Lacy didn’t respond because the hostess came to seat them. She handed each of them a menu and ambled away.

  “What’s the other half?” Jason asked.

  “The other half of what?” Lacy said. She was suddenly famished and focused on the food to the exclusion of everything else.

  “You said making fun of me is half the joy of our relationship. What’s the other half?” he asked. He wasn’t paying attention to his menu at all. Lacy set hers aside and tried to pay attention to the conversation.

  “I suppose the correct answer is that you’re freakishly good looking, and I’m so attracted to you that I can’t think straight sometimes.” She picked up the menu and started to read again.

  Jason tipped it down with an impatient sigh. “What do you mean the correct answer?”

  “I mean that seems like what I should have said there. But the real answer is that I like you. We’re friends. We care about each other. That means more to me than anything else.”

  “Why didn’t you just say that?” Jason said.

  “Because I’m so hungry. I just want to eat, and you keep talking.” He was silent. She glanced at him over the top of her menu, and he was grinning. “What?”

  “I’ve never had a first date where the woman yelled at me before.”

  “I did not yell. I spoke loudly.” She dropped the menu and let out a breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “Geez, Lacy, if we can’t be comfortable and ourselves with each other, then what’s the point?” He picked up his menu and scanned. “Do you know what you want? Because I’m ready to order.”

  “I want ten of everything,” Lacy said.

  He dropped his menu again and signaled to the waiter. As he approached, Lacy recognized the same man who had waited on her during the ill-fated double date with Travis and Riley.

  “Hi,” she said with a smile.

  He nodded at her, but she wasn’t sure he had recognized her. Jason signaled to her to order first, and then it was his turn. “And could we have two baskets of bread?” he finished.

  “Two baskets,” the waiter agreed before disappearing into the kitchen.

  “Do you know him?” Jason asked.

  “He was my waiter on Sunday.”

  “You were here on Sunday? How often do you come here?”

  “Not often. Travis wanted moral support on his date with Riley. It didn’t go well.”

  “Why not?”

  Lacy debated not telling him, but changed her mind. “Riley and Tosh. She said some things that upset him, and he left.”

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  “She brought up you and New York.”

  “He knows I went to New York with you,” Jason said.

  “Riley painted a vivid picture. I think the visual was too much for him.”

  “Hmm,” he said. His tone and expression were neutral. Lacy couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Why did you take him instead of me on the date?” he asked after a short but ponderous silence.

  She opened her mouth to give another pat answer, and decided to be honest instead. “Because I’m really, really jealous and possessive of you when we’re with Riley.”

  “Why? Because of what happened with your ex?”

  She nodded.

  “Here’s the thing, though. She can only steal someone who wants to be stolen. I don’t want to be stolen. Your sister is cute, but she’s selfish, shallow, and immature. I’m not interested in her, and she knows it.”

  “This whole honest communication thing has its merits,” Lacy said.

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for almost a year,” Jason said.

  “Some lessons take a long time to sink in.” The waiter returned with their baskets of breadsticks. Lacy sat on her hands to keep from attacking the food before he left the table. She felt weak and light-headed from hunger.

  “What are you waiting on?” Jason asked after the waiter walked away.

  “Decorum to kick in. I don’t think it’s going to happen.” She took a breadstick, devoured it, and stared longingly at the basket.

  “I think you’ve lost weight with all your skipped meals lately. Have another.” He pushed the basket closer.

  “You’re a saint,” Lacy muttered between bites of bread.

  “I’m merely a man with a vested interest in your curves.”

  She choked and reached for her water. “That’s more honesty than I was prepared for,” she said.

  A few minutes later the waiter arrived with their meal. “I’ll be back—I forgot something,” he said as he set their food on the table.

  “What did he forget?” Jason asked. “Are you missing something?”

  She inspected her food and shook her head. The waiter reappeared and solved the mystery. “Tzatziki,” he whispered and set the bowl beside her plate.

  “You remembered,” Lacy said. She squinted to read his nametag. “Thank you, George.”

  “Is no problem,” he said. He reached backwards for the water pitcher to refill their glasses, and that was when Lacy saw the ring glimmering on his right hand. She was so surprised that she made a small squawking sound and dropped her fork. “Is problem?”

  “No, your ring. I didn’t notice that the other night.”

  “Is new,” he said. He held it up for his own inspection, smiling.

  “Are you a member of the club?”

  He froze. “Is nothing.”

  “Is it a secret?” she whispered.

  “Is American man club. No secret.”

  “Where do you meet? What do you do?” she asked.

  He blinked furiously and worked his mouth up and down as he tried to think of an answer. “My English, not so good. I get more breadstick.” He retreated to the safety of the kitchen.

  “That was painful.”

  “He did look like a deer in headlights,” Lacy said.

  “No, I meant for me. What is it with you and the rings? I don’t get your overt interest.”

  “I don’t know,” Lacy said. “The thought of a secret club intrigues me. It’s like people’s fascination with the Masons. What if this club is responsible for all the power plays in this town?”

  “What power plays?” Jason asked. “The timing of the two lights on Main Street?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Not really. I couldn’t care less about this club or any other. There’s no conspiracy, no power cluster. The same core group of people make all the laws, but that’s because they’re elected officials,” Jason said. “Taste this and see if you can figure out how to make it.” He shoved a forkful of potatoes into her face, and she took a bite.

  “The secret ingredient is cream cheese,” she said.

  “Are you sure? Because I don’t think I like cream cheese.” He stared at the potatoes.

  “How could you not like cream cheese?” Lacy asked.

  “It’s not healthy,” he said.

  “I’m still waiting for you a valid reason,” Lacy said.

  His gaze landed over her shou
lder. “Riley’s here.”

  “Good one,” Lacy said.

  “I’m serious. Riley and your grandparents just walked in.”

  Lacy craned her neck to look. Her grandparents and Riley stood in the entryway, waiting to be seated. “They’re going to tell her about Barbara Blake tonight,” Lacy said.