Deviled!: Lake Erie Mysteries Book 2

by Maureen K. Howard

  “I know what you mean.” June tugged at her hemline to no avail.

  Hamm and Jack had returned for the final event of the convention—the murder mystery dinner show June and Eddie and I were so excited to help plan just days ago. I didn’t know if they were at the hotel or aboard Lucky Enough, which lulled peacefully in its slip. Anyway you looked at it, it wasn’t great news.

  Michael spoke before I had a chance to worry over the unexpected appearance of our men. “You better get over to the ballroom where the final event is being presented. Don’t let Gabriel out of your sight.”

  “What about Sofia?” I asked. “Should we take her with us? If Gabriel spots her, all hell may break loose.”

  “A few things still need to happen out here if you want this case closed and the real guilty party exposed. Sofia will stay back with me. Eddie is getting Sasha up to speed. Go now, and try not to be seen.”

  Looking down at my oh-so-not-subtle ensemble, I grabbed June’s hand and we headed for the hotel.

  Michael had made it clear we didn’t have time to go back to our rooms to change into our business casuals, so we held our heads high as we walked through the lobby, ignoring the blatant stares and snickers coming from some of the guests. When we got to the ballroom, I cracked open the door to scope out the layout of the room. The final event was already well underway; it looked like the third course of the four-course, sit-down dinner was being served, and everyone’s attention was riveted on the actors playing the roles of the ever-changing suspects. Pencils were poised above tickets to make note of motive, means, and opportunity. There was an impressive prize package to be awarded to the group figuring out the murderer’s identity and other specifics of the crime. No one payed the least bit of attention to us as we slunk into a dark corner in the back of the room and sat at a table out of the emcee’s line of sight.

  All the players in the real-life murder mystery were in attendance: Gabriel manned the microphone; Damien and Angelina were sitting at a round table right up front with an empty chair positioned beside each of them; and as luck would have it, the two handsome men rounding out the table for six were none-other than Hamm and Jack. I assumed the two empty chairs were being reserved for me and June.

  Detective Reed was seated at the table next to them, looking downright captivating in a jade-color linen pantsuit. Her strawberry-blond hair swept her shoulders as she looked about, scanning the room for someone or something. I did not recognize the four people with her, who could have been hotel guests or conference attendees—or undercover agents, for all I knew.

  We settled into our shadowy corner to watch Gabriel work his magic. The dinner guests talked and laughed as they got more and more involved with the interactive presentation. One lady stood up, waving her ticket and squealing in delight as she figured out a connection between two of the actors. Hidden clues were being uncovered with theatrical flourish. Soon the murderer would be revealed.

  Amidst the flailing arms and boisterous competition, I saw someone—gender uncertain in the darkened room—approach Detective Reed and lean in close to whisper something in her ear. I swear I saw a package of some sort exchange hands. The detective scanned the room once more and fingered the mysterious delivery in her lap. Her gaze came to rest on the group at the table right beside her. She rose and made her way toward the DeVille’s table.

  “June, I think something’s going down.”

  “Yeah, I know. We’re about to find out who the murderer is. I wish we could have been here for the whole show. This looks like a lot of fun.”

  “I’m sure it is. I’ve been to a number of these. I’ll sign us up for one in the fall. In the meantime, could you pay attention? Reed is talking to Angelina and Damien. They don’t look at all happy.”

  Hammond and Jack were getting into the performance, but Reed was ignoring them. She got Angelina and Damien to stand up and was directing them to follow her out of the conference room. Two of the strangers who had been with her at her table stood at their places, unmoving, taking in the scene and making their presence felt.

  “We can’t let this happen, June. We’ve got to tell Reed she has the wrong people.”

  Just then, we both noticed Gabriel who had ditched his microphone and was slinking toward the nearest door.

  “Hey, he’s getting away!” June hopped onto her chair, pointing at Gabriel who was trying to slip unnoticed out the service exit.

  The crowd loved it. They clapped and shouted with glee as the lady in the short gold dress pointed at the emcee and proclaimed him the murderer from the back of the room. What a grand finale! If only they knew. I mashed my way through the throng, trying to reach Reed so I could explain that she had the wrong brother in custody. Across the room, participants blocked Gabriel’s way, each one hoping to put the final piece of the puzzle in place and go home with the extravagant prize package.

  Bang! Bang! The sound of gunfire brought the crowd to silence in an instance. Gabriel had replaced the discarded mic with a pistol.

  The crowd didn’t miss a beat. “The smoking gun! How clever! Bravo!”

  The room erupted once more, louder and more excited than before. Prior to dinner being served, there would have been a short presentation outlining the structure and rules of the game. It would have been noted, as was the case in every murder mystery dinner I had attended, that guns and other props would be used to make the experience more authentic. The audience cheered at the great performance.

  In my heart, I knew those were not blanks being fired. Reed, of course, had recognized them as well, altering her course in the direction of the gunfire. Angelina and Damien stood at the entrance door June and I had come through still guarded by Reed’s dinner partners. Static crackled through Detective Reed’s radio as she dispatched a call for backup. I was all the way up to the stage area now, close enough to see the look of alarm on my husband’s face and witness Detective Jack Morgan spring into action, lurching toward Gabriel, leaving Hamm alone and stunned at the table. I wanted to throw myself into the safety of his arms, but then I’d have to try and explain why I looked as if a deck of giant playing cards had thrown up on me and stolen half my clothes. I kept quiet and hid behind a chair.

  From my vantage point, I could see a young man with blood seeping through the white sleeve of his shirt. Real blood. In a panic, I scanned the room looking for other casualties, but, thank God, I didn’t see any other injured bystanders. Gabriel must have dropped his gun in the crush of humanity vying for their three minutes of fame. I was close enough to see the wild glaze in his eyes. He was trapped in his own game.

  By the time Detective Reed reached him, she was joined by four backup policemen as well as Jack, who was standing by in case he could be of assistance.

  “Mr. DeVille, calm down. It’s over now.”

  Gabriel growled dangerously, but then he seemed to deflate like a reused party balloon. Gabriel DeVille was taken into custody for inciting panic as well as discharging a firearm illegally, not to mention shooting one of his guests. In the meantime, Angelina and Damien were not being released at the moment. It looked like there would be a DeVille family reunion at the jailhouse tonight.

  41

  Where hast thou been, sister?

  Macbeth

  After squatting behind that chair for so long, my leg muscles were screaming for release. Hamm had walked off in the direction of the exit, looking for Jack. I spied June making her way around the perimeter toward me, so I figured the coast was clear. I stood up and did a quick yoga stretch. No one in the theater seemed too ruffled by the pandemonium. Animated conversation swirled around my head.

  “Wow! What a performance!”

  “I knew it had to be the emcee. He was too good to be true.”

  “That gunfire sounded so realistic.”

  “Did you see the guy with the bloody arm? Now those were some sweet special effects!”

  Hard as it was to believe, it seemed the dinner guests had no idea of the actual danger t
hey’d all been dragged into by Gabriel’s insane scheme. June and I finally reconnected, and only one lady had the nerve to comment on our outfits.

  “Who are you two supposed to be? Aren’t you both a little old for those hemlines?”

  “Said the lady with the orange hair.” I snickered.

  June giggled at my remark. “Right. If I were doing orange, I would have gotten my color out of a box, not a Kool-Aid packet. But now what? These people are expecting an ending. There were some pretty competitive groups back there. This could get ugly.”

  “Could? What do you call a guy getting shot and all the owners and coordinators of the event being hauled off to the police station?”

  June bit her upper lip. “True. But now they’re expecting the winner to be announced.”

  “And dessert,” I added. “I’d be mad if they left out dessert.” I got an eye roll from June.

  Enter Eddie Sneed. His tuxedo had to have been custom made; you couldn’t buy something so tailored and elegant off the rack—at least not in his size. He strode up the main aisle, waving his arms dramatically, the weasel perched above his eyebrows hanging on for dear life. So much for suave and debonair. “Ladies and gentlemen, if you would all take your seats, you’ll discover the solution to tonight’s mystery.”

  June and I sat down in the seats where Hamm and Jack had been. “This I’ve got to hear.” June whispered. I nodded. The guests settled down, and an expectant hush fell over the crowd. I had to give the little guy credit. Eddie did a pretty convincing job of ad-libbing the conclusion of the show, explaining away the crazy guy and the blood and the very real police presence.

  Heads were bowed and pencils scratched out notes on tickets in order to prove they’d figured out the solution before the big reveal.

  Eddie walked around the room, glad-handing the men and patting the women solicitously on the back or shoulder. After stopping at every table, he made his way back to the podium, picked up the microphone from where it had rolled under a chair during the brouhaha, and announced the grand prize winner. How he determined which group deserved the lavish prize package was beyond me. He probably chose the six people most likely to punch him in the face if they lost.

  “Congratulations to our winning group and runners-up! And thank you one and all for being such great sports. Please enjoy your dessert and have a pleasant evening. Don’t forget the fireworks on the beach at ten o’clock.”

  “I told you there would be dessert. Gives the losers something to focus on.”

  “Okay,” June conceded. “Since we’re here and no one is trying to kill us at the moment, we might as well stay to enjoy it.”

  I heard a soft, familiar voice over my shoulder. “Would you prefer the chocolate or the strawberry cheesecake, ma’am?”

  For once, her appearance neither startled nor angered me. “Sasha, it’s so good to see you. Are you okay? Have you spoken to Eddie about everything that’s been happening?”

  “I haven’t spoken to him since we got to the hotel. There was so much preparation needed for this final act. Now that Gabriel has been arrested, I will be able to breathe a little bit.”

  Eddie bounded across the room and flung his arms around Sasha. “Oh sweetie, there you are. Are you okay?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Of course I’m okay. But what about Sofia? She’s the one we need to worry about. I still need to find her.”

  I couldn’t stop the grin that was spreading across my face even if I wanted to. Sofia had approached her sister without a sound and tapped her on the shoulder.

  I was distracted from the exuberant reunion of the sisters by the distinct sound of the ringtone I reserve for Hamm. But I didn’t have my phone. “What the …?”

  Eddie pulled the familiar device from the inner pocket of his tuxedo jacket and handed it to me. “I thought you might want this,” he said.

  It was too late to catch the call, but seconds later, a ping alerted me to the waiting voicemail. “Where are you, Francie? Jack and I came for you guys, but before we could find you, all hell broke loose. You won’t believe what just happened, and you’ll be sorry you missed all the excitement. Let me know where you are.”

  I decided to reply via text message to make sure my voice didn’t give anything away. In my grammatically correct message, I informed my husband that June and I had been working on the show behind the scenes. True story, right? Just a little more cleanup to do and we’d meet back at the boat in about an hour.

  Back in our room, changing clothes was our number-one priority. I opted for my favorite stretchy, black, yoga pants, a black-and-white-striped top with a sparkly anchor on the front, and my flip-flops. I twirled my hair into a loose bun and let the curls around my face land where they would. June must have felt the need to cover all the parts of her body that had been out in the elements far too long. She chose a red and white maxi skirt and a long-sleeved, boatneck top in navy blue. White ankle socks and red canvas shoes made the outfit uniquely hers.

  Startled by a knock on the door, I kicked the playing card outfit and shimmery minidress under the bed as I went for the door.

  “May I come in?” Detective Reed said, placing one foot in the doorway. She looked relaxed and more like she was stopping by for a chat among friends than coming to arrest us. What could I say?

  “Of course. Please don’t mind the mess. We’re in the middle of packing. We’re leaving the hotel as soon as we finish up and heading back to the marina for the fireworks. We plan to head home in the morning. That is . . . well, unless you’re here to deliver bad news.”

  “I think you’ll like what I have to say. I had a feeling right from the start you were innocent, Francie. But I had to follow the evidence, and eventually it ended up clearing you of all suspicion. Angelina explained how she’d kept your scarf after your visit to her suite. When she learned it was the murder weapon, she didn’t know how or if you were involved and kept the information to herself. When Gabriel used the scarf to strangle his brother, he thought it belonged to Angelina. Angelina and Damien DeVille were also victims in Gabriel’s scheme. As soon as they finish up their statements, they’ll be free to go as well.”

  “So, about the evidence . . .” June said.

  “A certain man, whose identity I promised not to reveal, presented us with a box full of evidence containing not only everything we needed to charge Gabriel DeVille with murder, conspiracy, kidnapping, and attempted murder, but also links to the Scorpione family and their attempts to take over all of Devil’s Island Resort and turn it into a major mob-funded hotbed of gambling and other activities contrary to the values and lifestyle of our lake town residents. There was also evidence that Bob had been involved in some shady dealings of his own, though on a much smaller scale. The police department owes both of you our sincere apologies. I hope there are no hard feelings.”

  June called the front desk to collect our bags and deliver them to the dock. Without a backward glance, we stepped into the hall, and I shut the door behind us for the last time.

  42

  All’s Well That Ends Well

  Hamm and Jack were ready for us. The smell of hot pepperoni pizza greeted us even before we stepped aboard. There was a bottle of La Crema uncorked and waiting to be poured into real glass stemware. “Welcome back, ladies. We can’t wait to hear all about your weekend.”

  “There’s nothing much to tell. You’ve probably heard the same stories from me a hundred times.” I smiled sweetly at Hamm.

  “There were some pretty cool zombies at lunch one day,” June chimed in.

  “How could I forget? Oh, and I got to play magician’s assistant on stage.”

  Hamm smiled and humored me. “We enjoyed what we saw of the final dinner show.”

  “I must confess,” Jack added, “they had me fooled. I was up and ready to help the cops catch a crook, but was informed by a short guy in a tuxedo and a bad toupee that it was all part of the grand finale.”

  “Why don’t you tel
l us about your weekend instead. It was probably much more interesting.”

  They took the bait. For the next half hour, June and I pretended to be fascinated by their stories of birdies, holes-in-one, and hijinks on the golf greens. Yawn.

  The moon lit the cloudless sky and reflected off the lake’s glassy surface. It was a perfect night. We were anchored offshore, and the fireworks were about to begin. After indulging in a second glass of wine, I curled up next to Hamm in the sweet comfort of his warm embrace to wait for the show.

  “Fantastic! That was the best fireworks display I’ve ever seen.” Jack stood, pumping his fist in the air and causing the boat to list to the starboard side.

  “Huh?” I sat up and rubbed my eyes. “Did I miss something?”

  Hamm kissed my forehead and tucked a fuzzy blanket around my shoulders before starting up the engines and heading for Beacon Pointe. Fifteen minutes later we were back in our own slip across the bay.

  Finis

  The rich aroma of my favorite coffee enticed me from my sleep, and I followed my nose out to the kitchen of our condo where Hamm sat holding a mug and reading the morning news. Cup in hand, I joined him at the table. I was still relishing my first sip when Hamm set the carefully folded newspaper on the table so I could see the lead story. A full-color photo of Gabriel DeVille in handcuffs graced half the front page. Under the picture ran the headline, Murder, Mayhem, and Mafia Star at Drama Divas Convention.”

  I read the first few lines of the story and felt the color rising in my cheeks. “The dynamic duo strikes again, keeping our peaceful Lake Erie islands and shores free from criminal activity.”

  “Is there anything you’d like to tell me about, dear?”

  About the Author

  Maureen K. Howard is the pen name of mother/daughter writing partners, Maureen Kovach and Brigette Howard. They both live in Findlay, Ohio with great husbands and dogs.