Genny's Ballad: The Sisters, Texas Mystery Series, Book 5

by Becki Willis

  Not that she need worry. Cutter was a perfect gentleman. He gave her a brotherly peck on the forehead before sending her off to her own bed. As Genny avoided the squeaky board in the hall on her way to her room, she convinced herself this was relief she felt, not disappointment.

  It took longer than normal, but Genny finally fell asleep, only to be awakened a few short hours later. The clock on her nightstand said it was just after three a.m.

  The board in the hall squeaked again as she sat up in bed, heart pounding. Someone was outside her door. She could only hope that it was Cutter, not the prowler.

  She was relieved to hear his voice. “Genny?” he whispered. “Wake up, darlin’. Showtime.”

  “I-I’m awake,” she whispered back, already scrambling from bed.

  “Be very quiet. Stay away from the windows.”

  That wasn’t a problem. She was huddled by his side in a matter of seconds.

  “I want you to stay on the couch,” he instructed. “No matter what happens, stay there. Understand?”

  She hoped the chatter of her teeth would pass for a yes as she nodded her head. Cutter led her toward the sofa and deposited her there with a quick, hard kiss upon the lips. “It’s okay, darlin’.”

  “I’m scared,” she admitted.

  “Brash is on his way. We’ve got this.”

  It was difficult to do, but Genesis stayed on the couch as promised. Cutter went from window to window, peering out into the darkness. He came back to watch from a spot near the front window. A moonless night made visibility difficult.

  “Son of a —” He muttered the words as he flew from his spot and ran toward the door. He yanked it open and rushed outside, just as a swoosh of flame ignited in the front yard.

  From where she sat on the edge of the couch, Genesis had a clear view of the scene outside. The fire climbed up a pole and spread in an oddly shaped circle. Cutter ran toward it, even as another person ran away from it. Dressed all in black, the person melted into the night. Not even Cutter’s two million lumens flashlight could find a trace of the prowler. He ran as far as the paved roadway outside, searching the blackness in all directions. Brash arrived moments later and helped with the search, including the treetops. He had known more than one criminal to climb upward to avoid detection.

  The fire was contained to the pole and its contents. Brash brought a fire extinguisher from his car and sprayed what was left, while Cutter checked on Genny.

  “You okay?” he asked from the doorway.

  “Yes. What is that, Cutter? Can I come out now?”

  His look was guarded. “Are you sure you want to?”

  “Yes!”

  Cutter kept a protective arm around her waist as they crossed the lawn to meet Brash. He stood back, studying what was left of the smoldering mess.

  “Someone brought you flowers, Genny,” Brash said solemnly.

  The pole turned out to be the sort that held funeral wreaths. In actuality, the oddly shaped circle proved to be a heart. Someone had soaked the wreath in flammable liquid and added a message. A trash can lid dangled from the center of the crispy flowers, the words still visible despite the blackened smut. ‘Taking out the trash’ glowed in neon letters, eerily illuminated by Brash’s flashlight.

  “Who would do such a thing?” she cried in disbelief.

  Cutter pulled her into his arms. “We’ll catch them,” he promised immediately. “Whoever did it, we’ll catch them.”

  “I’ll get someone out here to bag all this and take it to the lab,” Brash assured her. “Cutter is right. We’ll find out who is doing this and put a stop to it. This goes beyond prank calls and stalking. This is clearly a threat.”

  “I just don’t understand,” she whispered, clinging to Cutter.

  “I’ll take a closer look at Harris’s alibi for last night,” Brash promised. “Maybe it’s not as solid as I thought.”

  “I’ve got to call Maddy,” Genny murmured. “She’ll want to know.”

  “You know she’ll come right over,” Cutter acknowledged, still rubbing warmth into her cold and trembling limbs.

  “Tell her to keep her eyes out for any vehicles she might pass along the way,” Brash instructed. “They may have a car stashed somewhere close-by. Tell her to be careful.”

  “Cutter?” Genny looked up at the fireman with vulnerable eyes. “Let’s go back inside. I’ve seen enough.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Despite events going on in Genny’s tumultuous life, the Centennial Celebration was still going full-force. Genny had a committee meeting on Wednesday morning, catered a luncheon for past alumni at noon, and squeezed in an afternoon tea for the high school Homecoming Court. Area churches had special programs planned for the evening.

  The main events would take place later in the week. The traditional bonfire and community-wide pep rally was Thursday night, with the football game and crowning of a Queen on Friday night. Saturday featured a parade and festival, followed by the big community Homecoming Dance and fireworks that night. On Sunday, Home Again would film the final episode of the show and Maddy and her family would see the finished product. The show would air two weeks later, when the television series wrapped up and when, hopefully, life in The Sisters would return to normal.

  Until then, however, things were still chaotic.

  Even without the one-hundred year celebration, Homecoming was a stressful time. Volunteers were always welcome. When Derron Mullins offered to help, school sponsors jumped at the opportunity to have an extra set of hands.

  He came with the girls on Wednesday, driving them in a van he had decorated to resemble a chariot. He even wore a gold colored coachman suit. Although a bit skeptical of the man at first — and just a bit leery of having a male give them advise on fashion and etiquette — it did not take long for the six young women to warm up to the charming man. Derron was handsome, hip, and quite knowledgeable when it came to all things fashion. With blond hair, arresting blue eyes, and sculpted abs, he was a scaled-down version of Adonis. Derron Mullins was just over five feet tall.

  “Ladies, ladies, ladies!” He clapped his small hands together to corral their attention. “I have a special treat for you today. We have a special guest joining us. This gentleman has been on the panel for numerous pageants all across the United Kingdom and France, as well as here in the United States. He comes highly qualified, with —”

  Genny tuned out the introductions as she discreetly served scones and petite fours to her guests. There were single representatives from the freshman, sophomore, and junior classes, and three possible queen candidates from the senior class. Each princess brought her mother along for the special event.

  The tea party was a new tradition she started last year, when she returned to town and opened her restaurant. In a world focused on outer beauty, instant gratification, and electronic communication, she felt it was important to reintegrate the importance of good manners, genteel conversation, and graceful habits. She closed the restaurant to walk-ins for two hours and dedicated all her attentions to the young women and their mothers, pampering them with this special time they could spend together. Genny remembered the age all too well, when mother-daughter relations were often strained, at best. It was too late to reconnect with her own mother, but perhaps she could help others to mend their relationships.

  “Without further ado,” Derron said, sweeping his hand in a grand gesture, “I present to you Mr. Pembrook Harris of London, England.”

  Genny jerked, almost spilling the plate of sweets on Glynis Combs’ head. Her eyes flew to Derron, begging him to recall the introduction, even though it was, of course, too late.

  Pembrook was dressed in his best finery, continuing the theme Derron had set. All the girls — and their mothers, Genny noted — were instantly smitten. He was a striking man, after all, with his regal countenance, pale golden hair, and icy blue eyes. He knew how to work a room. He glided smoothly around the table, pressing a kiss upon the hand of each woman and girl
present. He had something pleasant to say to each of them, complimenting a hairstyle or fussing over an outfit. He was nothing if not charming. Genny watched as, one by the one, the females fell under his spell. The man enchanted even Derron.

  Genny tried to escape before Pembrook reached her side, but to do so would call attention to her rudeness. Today’s exercise was about handling oneself graciously in social situations. And so Genny stood her ground, hiding her grinding teeth behind a smile as she allowed Pembrook Harris to touch her.

  Her skin crawled, and her stomach began to turn as his lips lingered upon her skin.

  “Ah, Genesis, it has been so long since I touched your soft skin,” he murmured, so that only she could hear. “Since I inhaled your exquisite fragrance. Since my lips tasted the sweetness of your being. I have missed you, my love.”

  She resisted jerking her hand from his. When he nipped at her skin, ever so slightly, she barely flinched. She kept her smile intact, knowing that others watched.

  “I must say, this is quite a surprise,” she said. She tugged free of his hold and gracefully staged her exit. “Shall I set another place setting, Mr. Harris?”

  “Perhaps I can take my refreshments later,” he suggested, her eyes boring into hers. “When we might have a bit of privacy.”

  “This is a rather busy day, I’m afraid. Now if you’ll excuse me, I will let you get back to these charming young ladies, and I will continue with refreshments.”

  Genny forced her steps to remain slow and measured, even when her every instinct screamed for her to run. She finished serving, poured fresh tea into the delicate china teacups, and caught Derron’s eye as Pembrook launched into a story about a tea he once attended with a true princess. With a subtle gesture, she indicated for her friend to join her in the kitchen.

  The moment Derron stepped behind the swinging doors, Genny rounded on him.

  “Where on Earth did you meet Pembrook? What are you doing with him? Are you insane?”

  “We met last week, in the bar at the Bumble Bee. He’s staying there.” Derron looked back over his shoulder. “Isn’t he dreamy?” he practically cooed.

  “Pembrook Harris is not dreamy!” she said, stamping her foot with emphasis. “He is a total nightmare!”

  “Wait. You know him?”

  “Know him? You might could say that! The man has stalked me on more than one occasion. And now here he is again, in little ole Naomi, Texas, just when someone is tormenting me again with random calls and nasty messages and fires set on my lawn!” With each injustice named, her voice rose on notes of hysteria.

  “What? What are you saying? I had no idea!” Derron was aghast. He darted a nervous glance back into the dining room, where Pembrook Harris had the women all but eating from the palm of his hand. A frown furrowed into his forehead. “He led me to believe he was gay.”

  “Gay, straight, bi-sexual. Does it really matter? The man is evil! Get him out of here, Derron!”

  “How?” Derron squeaked. “What would I say?”

  Genny paced along a stainless steel table. “I can’t believe this is happening.” She looked down at her hand and the slight bruise that was already beginning to show. “Oh, God, he touched me! His vile lips actually touched my skin!” She rushed to the nearest sink and washed her hands. If the Health Inspector came back, it would be an infraction. This was the produce sink, not the hand-washing facility. But if it meant washing away all traces of the Englishmen, she would gladly pay the heftiest of fines.

  “Genny, I’ve never seen you like this. You’re normally so cool and collected.”

  “You don’t know the hell that man has put me through. You don’t know what he did to me, just last night.”

  “Last night?” Derron asked in confusion.

  “He left a burning wreath in my yard, with a very definite message attached.” She carefully dried her hands, rubbing away any remaining traces of his touch.

  “Genny,” Derron said hesitantly, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but it couldn’t have been Pembrook.”

  She looked up at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

  “He was with me last night.” His eyes skittered away from hers as he clarified, “All night.”

  Genny stared at him in surprise. “Oh, Derron, you have no idea who you are tangling with,” she breathed. She came to her friend and took him by the arms. Her fingers dig into his skin. “You have to break things off with him. Immediately. The man is unstable. Dangerous. Please, Derron, tell me you’ll end it immediately.”

  “Of—Of course.” But his eyes looked uncertain. “What if—What if I provoke him? What if he turns on me?”

  “It’s possible,” she admitted. She closed her eyes as images from the past flashed before her eyes. “That’s what happened with me. But Brash knows about it. He can keep you safe.”

  “I have to get back in there,” Derron said. “The last thing I want to do is make him suspicious and come looking for me.”

  “You’re right. Go. Try to act like nothing has changed.” She took a deep breath. “Let me wash my hands again. Collect myself. I’ll be in shortly.”

  Derron stopped when he reached the door. “I’m sorry, Genesis. I had no idea.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “I know you didn’t, Derron. It’s not your fault.”

  “I think of you as a good friend, Genny. You and Maddy are very important to me.”

  “You’re very important to us, too, Derron. That’s why I’m so worried for you now. That man out there may look golden, but he has a dark soul. Be careful.”

  Derron nodded and pushed through the swinging door, only to immediately return.

  “Genny?”

  “Yes?”

  “If Pembrook was with me last night, who was in your yard?”

  Genny managed to get through the rest of the tea party. No one, not even Pembrook, guessed that her nerves were on edge and that her stomach was a knot of dread. She moved about the tables, smiling and visiting with her guests, until the party was finally over and the last of them left.

  She locked the door behind them. She took no chances that Pembrook might linger outside and slip back inside. The café would reopen in thirty minutes, but she hoped that by that time, he would have given up and gone back to his hotel or whatever rock he crawled beneath.

  She did not tell Cutter about the unwanted guest speaker. In fact, she had stopped answering his calls before the tea party even started. Every hour, it seemed, he called or texted, reassuring himself that she was all right. He was working out of town for the day, and tonight he had the dreaded birthday party at Montelongo’s. Shortly after noon, she grew weary of his over-protective worry and his repeated apologies about the party. If she were going to get any work done, she had to turn her phone off.

  Genny concentrated now on decorating cakes for the double parties they had booked that evening. If not for the special events, she might have had the evening off. But with a retirement party for twelve and a birthday party for nine, she not only had to work tonight, she had to make the cakes. Both wanted an elaborate, one-of-a-kind cake.

  “Mmm, those look delicious,” Thelma informed her boss, taking a whiff of the sweetly scented air. “What kind are they?”

  “This one is the retirement cake. Triple chocolate, with raspberry ganache filling.” Genny twirled the cake around, adding a perfect swipe of frosting as she did so. “All it needs is a few chocolate shavings sprinkled on top, and it’s done. The birthday cake is already in the refrigerator. It’s a white layer cake, filled with strawberries and fresh cream frosting. Once it sets up, I’ll add strawberry roses for garnishing.”

  “No writing on either one?”

  “Nope. Both nice and easy.”

  Thelma eyed the extravagant three-layer chocolate cake. She knew the other one had at least five layers. “Easy?” the woman laughed. “I would have trouble with two layers and canned frosting, much less all this!” She waved at ‘this’, an assortment of ingredients and c
ooking accessories Genny had scattered across the stainless steel prep area.

  “Ah, this is easy stuff,” the chef replied. “You should see some of the cakes I had to make back in Paris and Boston.”

  “This is clearly your calling. I’m sorry you have to work tables tonight, Miss Genny. It’s too lowly for talent like yours.”

  “There is nothing lowly about working tables, Thelma. It’s a good, honest job. And I’ve waited my share of them, long before I owned them. It doesn’t hurt me to get out there and do the same work as the rest of you, especially until I hire a replacement for Shilo Dawne.”

  “Maybe that new girl you interviewed today will work out.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Genny glanced at the clock. “When does the birthday party start?”

  “In less than an hour. We’re rearranging the tables now.”

  “Any special decorations?”

  Thelma rolled her eyes. “The birthday girl and her special guest get chairs decorated like thrones and crowns to wear. You should see her tiara. I think it may actually be real. Her father dropped everything off earlier.”

  “Aw, how sweet,” Genny smiled. “A bit over the top for a little girl, but stuff that fairy tales are made of.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Some fairy tales played out like nightmares. This was one of them.

  Both parties arrived at the same time, even though they were scheduled thirty minutes apart. Eleven of the twelve people for the retirement party were early, while all nine birthday guests were running late.

  Genny was busy serving a family with three rowdy youngsters. One of the children stood up in the booth and ‘shared’ a handful of mashed potatoes with the woman sitting behind them. The elderly woman was not amused with the smear of vegetables upon her back. While her husband protested loudly and threatened to sue the restaurant for lack of management, the birthday party arrived.