Amber Affairs

by Patricia Rice

But Josh had had enough. He didn’t bother rising, just winked at Amber, who saluted him in a signal that she’d had all she had to say, and it was okay for him to defend himself.

  “I don’t punch women who insult me,” Josh offered genially, sipping his coffee. “Since I can’t punch you for breaking into Amber’s place, either, shall I see if that’s Dell cowering in your car? Breaking in sounds just like something he’d encourage.” He gestured at the window. “I can punch him. I’ve done it before. He might even spill all your secrets if I threaten him.”

  “We didn’t break in anywhere,” Crystal said angrily, as if actually capable of being insulted and presumably unworried about Dell being punched.

  “Half Hillvale is here,” Amber reminded him, sounding amused, to Josh’s relief. “We could stand in the parking lot, wave wands and candles, and expel evil spirits like Dell. No punching required.”

  “I’m liking this town better every day,” Josh said in approval. Deciding he’d heard enough, he laid down cash for his coffee, rose, and towered over the pathetic bitch sneering at her more talented daughter. “Would you like to leave now?” he asked courteously. “I’ve seen Amber’s friends in action. They are rather. . . persuasive.”

  Outnumbered, Crystal glared at Amber. “You haven’t heard the last of this. No court in the world will let you have guardianship after I’m through with you.”

  On that chilling statement, she marched out, not giving Josh a second glance. He watched as she climbed into the Cadillac and backed out, heading for the lodge. He whistled in disbelief. “She’s worse than ever. That’s hard to believe.”

  The café returned to normal volume and Amber rose from her seat of triumph. Several of the women hugged her, and she hugged them back, while aiming for the door. Knowing when the realization hit her, she’d go down hard, Josh followed.

  At her continued silence, he cursed and dropped an arm over her shoulders. Tears ran down her fine porcelain cheeks as they crossed the street. Thank all that was holy, she’d quit flinching from him. He helped her unlock her door, then closed it behind them. The instant they were alone, Amber wrapped her arms around his waist and just hung on.

  He wanted more than hugs, much, much more. And he had utterly no right to ask for more, not while life was a bowl of ugly.

  “I’m sorry you never knew a real mother,” he whispered into her glorious sunset hair, holding her against him. “I’m sorry I can’t wave a magic wand and make her disappear. But I’m not sorry I found you again. Let’s go back to the old ways and get through this together. Want to start a website?”

  She giggled a little. “Trashy Mothers and Crooked Killers?”

  Relieved that the bout of weeping was only temporary, he pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and patted her cheeks. “The SEO would be wicked, but it needs a better acronym. What works with bitch?”

  She pulled away to sniff into the tissue. “A Facebook group would be easier these days, but you’d have to avoid obscenities in a group name. Sorry, I’m usually not such a weeper.”

  “Yeah, you are. That’s why you’re such a good actress, you emotionally relate to your character. They really stifled you in that stupid Ginger role. How long do you think it will take before Crystal or Dell start sending out press releases about us? Do I need to leave town now so you don’t have a murdering boyfriend hanging over your head?”

  Because like it or not, he’d just played the part of Jack rushing to Ginger’s rescue. If the reporters weren’t here yet, they would be by tomorrow.

  To his complete and utter surprise, she pulled his head down and kissed him in reply.

  Eighteen

  Amber savored Josh’s coffee-flavored mouth on hers, the way his body tightened as he pressed into her, and all the ways they still fit together. She relished even more that he didn’t start in surprise and shove her away but kissed her hungrily, as if he’d only been waiting for her to kiss him. This was Josh, she told herself. Josh was safe. And she so desperately needed this physical reassurance that she wasn’t a total failure. . .

  She was hot, sweaty, and breathless before she pushed away. He reluctantly let her go at her insistence, which gave her breathing room. But once she was steady again, he ran his hand into her hair and tugged her back for a few lingering kisses on her ear and cheek, proving it hadn’t just been her.

  “I want more,” he told her. “But I’m at your mercy. I won’t take what you won’t give.”

  She nodded, not knowing if the shiver she felt was thrill or fear. “I can’t ask you to wait until the time is right. It may never work for us. But I won’t say I’m sorry I did that because it didn’t feel wrong. I’m just sorry I can’t offer more.”

  “I’m not making the mistake of giving up this time,” he said, almost angrily. “I recognize we’ve changed. Maybe we won’t work out. But I’m not giving up on our friendship. For now, I’ll scram before the reporters come knocking. I have to go rent an apartment. I’m staying.”

  Josh had no sooner left to sign the rental contract on Cass’s studio when a stranger ambled in and glanced around Amber’s shop. Men seldom ventured into her fantasy cave, and she knew instantly that he wasn’t hunting for a gift.

  Maybe she could sit the crystal ball on the counter and hope Willa would terrorize the nosy intruder into leaving.

  Well, she’d insisted on a public showdown. This was on her head.

  Hands still shaking from the morning’s encounters, she spread a deck on the desk behind the counter and looked for sweetness and light. All she turned up was dark and ugly. Or maybe that was her mood.

  “Your mother hasn’t changed much over the years,” the stranger said, checking out one of the souvenir walking sticks Harvey had left on consignment.

  If he knew Crystal, then he had recognized Ginger. She studied him from behind the array of objects on her counter.

  The reporter was in his fifties, with cropped gray hair probably concealing a receding hairline and bald spot. If this were an old Superman film, Clark Kent would be wearing a fedora and a raincoat. But this was twenty-first century California in late spring. He wore a camera vest with pockets, over a t-shirt and camping shorts. Tall, tanned, and not too out-of-shape, he probably worked the LA TV circuit where appearances counted, and entertainment was news. He could very well know her mother.

  Well, Mariah had said all hell was about to break loose.

  “The walking sticks are hand-carved, and the crystal embedded comes from the Hillvale crystals that made our artist colony famous,” she said, refusing to gossip about her own damned mother.

  “You’ll need someone on your side when the shit hits the fan,” he told her, hanging up the stick and handing her a business card. “I can give you an exclusive, let you tell your side of the story first.”

  She glanced at the card. “Thank you, Mr. Stone.” She tucked the card in a holder. “Shall I read your tarot? I’m quite good.”

  He shrugged and tipped an imaginary hat. “Call me when you’re ready, but not too late. The rats are already sniffing the trash.”

  “Nice way with words,” she muttered as he departed. With her secret unofficially out, she sighed and lifted the receiver. Time to call in a few favors.

  The Lucys gathered in the underground bomb shelter the commune had once used to store their artwork. Since the town had begun cleaning up the site and building a foundation for the Hillvale History Museum, lighting had been added to the bunker and the walls shored up. Most of the artwork had been sold to pay for the museum, but the pieces that had been plastered and etched into the walls remained. Crystals studded the concrete and glimmered in the overhead light.

  Amber set her velvet-covered crystal ball on a table made from a tree trunk. Harvey had rolled the wood down after the fire on the mountain, carved, stained, and polished the base, then cut out rough, burned planks for the top—a new piece of art and craftsmanship. Amber threw one of her velvet cloths over the top and set the ball in the center. Natural settin
gs seemed safer for what they needed to do.

  “Are you sure you want to be here?” she worriedly asked Josh, who was studying the artwork embedded in the concrete walls. He’d kissed her on the cheek in front of her friends when he entered but not acted any differently than before she assaulted him, so she wasn’t certain how to comport herself. She was almost afraid that he’d meant his promise to stay as long as it took to know her and hadn’t just said it to make her feel good. “I see only darkness in the cards. You might be better off playing in the pool with Zeke.”

  He waved off her suggestion. “Ernest loves playing guard dog. He has spies all over the lodge already and knows exactly where your mother is at any moment. I think Fee sent up an ipecac potion to feed her if she causes trouble. Zeke is fine. I’m not. I need to be here.”

  She needed him to be here, although that was ridiculous. She’d fared fine without him for years. Well, maybe not as fine as she would have liked. But she didn’t think he was here because she needed help. He was alone and unhappy. She couldn’t fix that.

  “Did you ever find out who is traveling with her?” In the rear of the bunker, Sam whisked the walls with sage and lit candles.

  Too pregnant to climb ladders, Mariah took the ghost-catcher her tall Scots husband handed her from the ceiling and cleaned off ectoplasm. She answered Sam’s question first. “Whoever it is took his own room and used a corporate name. I did a quick check but don’t recognize any of the board of directors. It’s an LA firm and seems to be linked to the film industry.”

  “Send the names to me when you have a chance. Ernest and I will trace the connections.” Josh returned to the table to study the Willa-inhabited crystal.

  Sadness and uncertainty creased his face. Amber knew she was asking him to believe that the woman he’d intended to marry now occupied a piece of glass, that she essentially held the remains of his future in her palms. He had good reason to be in one of his moods.

  If he’d been anyone else, Amber would have told him to go away, it was too dangerous for him to stay. But that would only make Josh dig in.

  “We’ve never done this with a Null in the house,” she warned. “It might be best if you joined Walker and the Kennedys in the bar.”

  “They’re not in the bar,” Keegan said, lifting another net for his wife to check. “They’re toasting marshmallows over a fire inside the new museum.”

  Sam laughed as she lit the final candle. “They’re grilling steaks. You’re welcome to join them, Josh.”

  Harvey clattered down the stairs still chewing on a sandwich he’d probably scavenged from the Nulls at the fire. Amber could smell the grilled meat, and her stomach protested. She hadn’t been able to eat much all day. Tension—a new diet technique to explore.

  Behind him, Val stalked down carrying two food baskets. Tall, dressed in widow’s weeds and long veil, she wielded the presence of a Valkyrie. On stage, she must have been impressive. As the town’s death goddess, she sent spirits on before they could infect the living—or so everyone hoped.

  Amber smelled more food and checked the contents of Val’s baskets. “Fee has provided!” She chose a grilled chicken leg and set out a platter of marinated vegetables.

  “Nice that your séances come with food,” Josh murmured, helping himself to a cherry tomato as he watched the spread forming on the bench.

  “They don’t usually. But this is also a town meeting, and we need our strength,” Tullah said, arriving with a drink keg.

  Knowing Lucys would never bring alcohol to a séance, Amber found a cup and tried the spout—lemonade.

  “Is Aaron joining us or staying with the Nulls?” Finishing her last net, Mariah cleaned her hands on a wet hand wipe and picked through the baskets.

  “He’ll be down.” Harvey settled on another of the benches. “He was just checking with Walker for any late-breaking news.”

  Amber shuddered. “How many reporters have we counted so far?”

  “Thanks to Crystal and her big mouth, way too many,” Josh answered. “Ernest has set up a press conference for the morning in hopes of giving them enough story to send them packing. I plan on getting drunk tonight so I look properly destroyed when I lie to them.”

  “There’s the cynic I know and love.” She patted his arm and shared her veggie plate. “I’ll just play dumb and hope they give up and go away.”

  “Have you heard from Willa’s lawyer yet?” Aaron took the steps down two at a time. “Or even her father? Walker is frustrated with the lack of communication from the sheriff.”

  Josh waved his herb roll. “To the lawyer, briefly. I verified Willa made me her heir when she had the prenup drawn up, but I have to go into LA to hear the details.” He broke off a piece of his bread and handed it to Amber. “This stuff is amazing. Can I just hide in here and you bring me a basket like this once a day?”

  Amber had introduced her friends to Josh earlier in the day. He and Aaron had hit it off discussing props for the fantasy movie Josh was directing. Josh had always been easy-going and personable, but she could tell he was wearing off around the edges under this stress. He’d never handled pressure well. An explosion was imminent—a bomb shelter was fitting.

  “If the lawyer hasn’t sent the will yet, I can show you a copy when we have wi-fi.” Mariah settled on a bench with a sub sandwich. “Willa had a good lawyer. Her father just fired him for not bowing to his demands and handing over her papers.”

  “That’s why I hired him to handle the estate. He knows I’ll pay him what he’s worth, and he’s probably tired of dealing with Ivan. So, telling the arrogant ass to take a flying leap probably made his day. Nice to know Ivan is still alive and just being his usual asshat self.” Pouring a cup of lemonade, Josh settled beside Amber on the bench.

  “Current gossip says Ivan’s alive and so pissed—or grief-stricken, depending on the source—that he’s not speaking to anyone,” Mariah said. “He tried to fire the cops you sent out to check on him.”

  “And you know this how?” Josh helped himself to more of Amber’s marinated veggies.

  “Never ask how Mariah gets her information, and it can’t be held against you in a court of law,” Keegan said, taking a seat beside his computer-code-wielding wife.

  “I think I lit the candles too soon.” Sam sat next to Harvey. “I miss Cass telling me the order of things. But if food is what it takes to bring everyone together, this is nice.”

  “Tell us what our chief of police knows so far about the case, before Mariah incriminates herself more,” Amber suggested. “We should know what to ask before we start.”

  Sam wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know what you don’t know.”

  “Have they established a time of death?” Josh asked.

  “Apparently that’s seldom a precise thing.” All scientist, Sam took a moment to arrange her thoughts. “They know Willa was alive when she stopped at Aaron’s and called you, which means the sheriff is starting with shortly after three-thirty. If she was knocked unconscious, as they suspect, then she could have been out for hours. The blow was pretty severe. Her body was found around seven the next morning. That’s only fifteen hours, so rigor was still in flux. She wasn’t wearing a watch or carrying a phone that might have broken when she fell. The state of lividity altered, which is the only strong evidence they have that she was moved within six hours of her death. I should have taken up forensic science instead of environmental.” She bit into her sandwich.

  “Which leaves me with no alibi.” Josh tore his roll apart. “Willa’s staff had all departed by then. Amber didn’t arrive until ten, and I was in my room alone. I could have killed Willa, carried her off, and dumped her between three-thirty and ten.”

  “Have they established where all her staff was during those hours?” Amber rested her hand on Josh’s thigh and rubbed, distracting him from his impending meltdown. He caught her hand and held it. The familiarity made it easier to slip back to a more innocent time.

  “Ernest and Sarah are pret
ty well clear since their presence in LA was confirmed.” Sam sipped her lemonade and apparently ran down a mental list. “Brad Jones, the cameraman, stayed over and slept in his van, but he has no motive at all. With Willa’s death, he’s out a reliable business contact. The wedding planner and Willa’s VP apparently drove in separate cars to San Francisco for late dinner meetings. There’s some sketchy timing there since the city is only an hour or so away, depending on traffic. Again, there doesn’t seem to be any motive.”

  “Tessa might have assumed she’d step from VP into Willa’s job, but that would have been a wild assumption. Everyone originally thought the company would revert to Ivan, and Ivan has his own people. So, yeah, not much motive there—unless she knew about the will and thought I’d leave her in charge. That’s pushing credulity.” Josh drank his lemonade as if it were beer. “And Tessa isn’t exactly a weight lifter. She couldn’t have carried Willa anywhere.”

  “Which means it all comes back to the driver of the black Porsche?” Amber asked, verifying what she’d heard so far. “Except Ivan has no reason to kill his daughter, which kind of leaves Dell. That’s awful convenient.”

  “Or me,” Josh added gloomily. “I’ve got it all. If Ivan puts enough pressure on the cops, they’ll haul me in shortly, with or without evidence.”

  “Especially if they go for the love triangle nonsense, now that Crystal is making up lies about us,” Amber added, removing her hand from his thigh. “I’m not even sure what we can ask Willa tonight, if that’s her spirit in the crystal. If she was unconscious, she has no idea who strangled her.”

  “Ask her why Ivan wanted to talk with her,” Josh suggested. “She sent her assistants back to pacify him, so it had to be important.”

  “And we can ask about Dell. If she ordered an audit of his company, then they probably communicated at some point.” Amber didn’t feel like eating anymore. She tore apart her roll and crumbled it into her tray. “We can ask who was with her after she left Aaron’s.”