by Cat Johnson
Aunt Agnes had skied the Alps. She’d rescued Petunia from being slaughtered. She’d lived in and maintained this big old Victorian all on her own for decades. She hosted a dozen people every year for Thanksgiving and threw legendary New Year’s Eve parties worthy of the roaring twenties.
But the one thing she didn’t do, as far as I knew, was have tea parties. Yet that was exactly what I was hoping she’d do. For me.
“Um, no. No scones. I thought maybe just the tea, or coffee—and maybe a few cookies.”
“Harper. What’s going on?”
“I just thought since the old—uh, the ladies in town always seem to be so . . . up on everything that’s going on, maybe they knew something about the missing signs.”
“And you want me to invite them over for tea so you can grill them for information?”
“No. Not exactly grill them. Just maybe ask them a few questions.”
“All right, Harper. If that’s what you want, I’ll invite them, but I can assure you, it won’t be for tea.”
That afternoon, at five o’clock on the dot because a lady didn’t drink martinis before then, the doorbell started to ring. The dining room and living room were soon buzzing with a who’s who of Mudville’s female senior citizen population.
I’d called in reinforcements to help me with the interrogation—er—make that the information gathering. Red, Bethany and I stood behind the dining room table and watched the action.
“The old biddies sure like to drink,” Bethany said as Binoculars Brimley moved in for her second martini.
“The better to get information out of them,” I observed.
“Do you think they know anything?” Red asked.
I leveled a stare on her. “Does anything happen in this town they don’t know about?”
“You’re right. The biddies know all,” Red agreed.
“Incoming. Two o’clock,” Bethany whispered.
I turned and saw Dee Flanders motoring toward me from the foyer doorway. For an older woman, she was as spry as those much younger than her.
The town lawyer was actually one of my favorite people. Her fiduciary responsibilities kept her from being too big a part of the town gossip mill, even though I’d bet she was the keeper of more information on everyone than any of the other biddies.
“Harper, I wanted to say how disappointed I was you couldn’t run for mayor. It was so nice to see a woman finally running for office in this town.”
“Thank you, Dee. That’s nice of you to say. Actually, I’m surprised you never ran yourself.”
Dee waved off my suggestion. “I got my fill of politics when I was working with Gloria.”
Red’s eyes widened. “Gloria Steinem?”
Dee nodded. “Yes. Believe it or not, back in the day I used my law degree for more than wills and real estate closings. I even can claim the distinction of having worked on a case with Ruth once upon a time.”
“Ruth Bader Ginsberg?” Now it was my turn to be surprised.
“Yes.” She nodded. “God rest her soul.”
We all echoed that before Dee turned back to me.
“I’m surprised your aunt never told you about any of that.”
“Aunt Agnes was there too?” I choked out, glancing at my aunt as she offered a cocktail napkin to old lady Trout.
“Oh, yeah. She was quite the activist in her day.”
“Wow.” I watched as Agnes circulated with a tray laden with tiny cocktail meatballs.
“Dee, you don’t happen to have security cameras at the law office, do you?” Bethany asked, finally getting us back on track.
“No, sorry. Carson already asked me. I don’t. But I can tell you one thing, whoever stole all your signs, Harper, should be ashamed.”
“Thanks, Dee.”
Her sympathy was sweet, but it didn’t help solve the mystery of who the guilty party was. Or why they’d targeted me.
As Aunt Agnes headed our way, Dee said, “Ooo. I never pass up one of your aunt’s meatballs. Excuse me.”
“Sure. Enjoy.” I sighed as I watched her go.
“We’re not going to find out anything if we hide over here and don’t talk to them,” Red observed, shooting me a glance.
“I know this was my idea but I’m not sure I’ve got it in me to sit and talk to them all.” I was sober. That could be part of the problem. Knowing that they’d dubbed me Ms. Naughty didn’t help either.
“Maybe they’re not so bad. I mean, who knows what they were like a decade ago?”
I shot Bethany a glare. “A decade?”
“All right. Four or five decades,” Bethany amended.
“Just imagine all the things that Alice Mudd must have seen in her ninety plus years,” Red said, staring at the woman where she sat on the sofa in the living room.
“Right? Who knows? She could have been like a spy in World War II,” Bethany agreed.
I narrowed my eyes as I watched her and considered that. “It’s possible, I guess. Imagine if she had been? It would make a hell of a book.” I sniffed out a laugh. “Except I’m not that lucky to have such a juicy story right under my nose.”
“You never know,” Red said.
“You’re right. And I probably will never know, because I doubt she’s a talker.”
“Hmm. Let’s find out.” Before we could stop her, Bethany headed through the open double pocket doors that connected the dining and living rooms.
She’d perched on the sofa next to Alice before I could conceive of what was happening.
“Wasn’t she the shy one out of the three of us?” I asked.
“Mmm, hmm.” Red nodded. “She’s changed. Maybe she’s been hanging out with us too much.”
“It’s possible.” I sighed. “I guess we’d better get over there.”
I watched Bethany as the full complement of biddies surrounded her until we could no longer see her past them.
The last thing I wanted to do was join her. But I couldn’t leave her there all alone either. Leave no woman behind, and all that.
“Let’s get a drink first,” Red suggested.
“Good idea. We’d better get one for her too.” I tipped my head toward Bethany, still invisible to us through the crowd of old ladies.
Red tipped her head in a definitive nod of agreement. “Definitely.”
Armed with a martini for each of us, and one for Bethany, all served in Aunt Agnes’s vintage pink stemware, we finally approached the group.
It felt a bit like willingly walking straight into a swarm of bees. But we had to do it. We couldn’t leave Bethany in there alone.
I moved around the group and finally found a space big enough I could slip my arm through and hand Bethany her drink.
She took it and said thank you while smiling what looked like an actual genuine smile, before she turned to laugh at something Alice had said.
“What are they talking about?” Red asked near my ear.
“No idea.” But whatever it was, Bethany was right in the middle of it and, unless she was an extraordinary actor, she was enjoying herself.
What was going on? Were the biddies fun? Had I been wrong about them all this time?
Maybe it was the drinks. They must all be drunk. I tentatively took a sip of mine. It was strong but I had to admit tasty.
Agnes appeared and offered me a toothpick-speared meatball. I took it and I popped it into my mouth as I pondered the biddies.
After the sweet and sour flavor coated my tongue, I washed it down with another swallow of martini and continued to wonder what they were all talking about.
Next to me, Red took another sip of her own cocktail and said, “I could get used to this.”
“I think I could too. Maybe being a fifties housewife wasn’t so bad if this was what they did every afternoon,” I said.
“Maybe.” She shrugged.
While we speculated about the past, Bethany continued to hold court with the biddies. Before I knew it my glass was empty, but my mood had definitely
improved.
“Are these glasses small or are we just drinking fast?” Red asked, looking into her empty glass.
“I have a feeling it’s both,” I commented. “Should we get another?”
“Yes,” Red nodded.
All I saw was Bethany’s hand, and her empty glass, as she thrust both toward me. I laughed as I reached between Dee and Mary and took it.
“You know, we might not get any information about your sign stealer out of this shindig, but at least it’s turning into a pretty good time,” Red said above the rising noise of the chatter.
“True that,” I agreed, just as I smacked into Stone’s chest as he walked in from the kitchen. “Ooo, Stone’s here,” I told Red, in case she’d missed him blocking our way into the next room.
“Hi, Stone.” Red waved her glass at him.
“Uh, what’s going on?” he asked as he glanced around the group gathered in the two rooms.
“We’re having an old biddy party,” I explained.
He frowned as if he were confused, though I didn’t know why he would be. I thought I’d answered his question perfectly well.
“Stone, you’re not going to believe this, but they’re actually cool,” Red whispered, though she did it kind of loudly.
He glanced down at the glass in my hand. “What are you two drinking?”
“Vodka,” Red announced.
“No, I think it might be gin,” I corrected, picturing the bottle on the counter when Agnes was mixing up the big chilled pitcher of martinis before the guests arrived.
“Whatever. These are surprisingly good.” Red wagged her empty glass back and forth.
“Give me that. I’ll fill it up for you.” I grabbed it from her and spun toward the kitchen, concentrating on carrying the three glasses and not breaking them.
“Glad neither of you is driving,” Stone mumbled.
“Not driving a car, but I hope to be playing stick shift with you later.” I grinned at my own joke. “Get it?”
“Ooo, you are so bad. No wonder they call you Ms. Naughty,” Red whispered, again pretty loudly.
“Jeez.” Lips pressed tightly, Stone frowned as he watched me head for the pitcher of drinks.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m not sure whether I need to take those glasses away from you or not.” He shook his head, looking at a loss.
“How about you go in there and schmooze your constituents. Secure some votes. Because I intend to be . . . whatever the mayor’s girlfriend is called.”
“I think it’s just called the mayor’s girlfriend,” Red offered.
“Well, that’s what I’m going to be when you win.” I poked Stone in the chest. “So get on in there.”
“No pressure.” He snorted.
“No pressure. But while you’re in there, try to find out if Alice was a Nazi spy.”
Stone's forehead furrowed between his hazel eyes. “You think Alice Mudd was a Nazi?”
“No, silly. I’m hoping she used to spy on the Nazis for us. The US. You know, during the war.”
Those sandy brows lifted. “All right.”
He agreed, though I was starting to wonder if he was just humoring me.
“And make sure Bethany’s all right while you’re there,” Red added. “She’s been surrounded by the biddies for a long time. She might need a rescue.”
“Got it.” Stone nodded, beginning to look amused as he turned toward the door.
“Have one of Agnes’s meatballs too,” I called after him. “They’re really good. And that might be what’s for dinner if we all end up being too drunk to cook dinner tonight.”
Stone drew in a deep breath. “Is this—whatever this is—going to become a regular thing?”
“No,” I said.
“Maybe,” Red answered.
Shaking his head again, Stone turned and disappeared through the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room.
I watched him go. “He’s got an exceptionally nice ass.”
“I know, right?” Red agreed. “So does Cash. Do you think it’s genetic?”
“Good ass genes? I suppose it could be. Since Boone’s got a nice ass too,” I said.
“Ooo. Don’t tell Stone you’re looking at Boone’s ass.” Red giggled.
Agnes stepped through the kitchen door and stopped, brow raised as she looked between the two of us and then her gaze landed on the empty glasses in our hands. “You two enjoying the martinis?”
“So much,” Red answered.
“Me too,” I said.
“Good.” Agnes smiled and donned a potholder and pulled a hot tray out of the oven before glancing over her shoulder at me. “And you’re right. It is genetic. You should have seen the Morgan boys’ granddaddy Stetson back in the day.”
She winked and turned, taking the tray and leaving us open mouthed behind her.
ELEVEN
Stone
“I know you’re going to have trouble believing me, but Alice Mudd is the bee’s knees. And . . .” Bethany, who always did have a colorful way of saying things, leaned in. She glanced around at me, Harper and Red. “I’m pretty sure she’s doing the nasty with Old Buck.”
“I believe it. I’ve seen them together a couple of times.” Red nodded.
Harper’s eyes widened. “Really? Their combined ages are like close to two hundred.”
“Hey, I hope to still be having sex when I’m close to a hundred,” I said.
Harper raised a brow. “Good to know.”
“Anyway, I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. I need to get home. Brandon should be there waiting for me by now.”
“I’m going to head home too,” Red said. “Thanks for an unexpectedly fun evening, Harper. Sorry we didn’t get any information about your missing signs.”
“Yeah. I’m sorry too. See you both tomorrow.” Harper wiggled her fingers in a wave.
Red and Bethany went out the back door as I turned to Harper. “That’s what this madness tonight was all about? Those signs?”
“Yes. Why?”
“You’re not even running anymore,” I pointed out.
“That doesn’t make it okay that someone stole them.” She planted a hand on her hip.
“You’re right. It doesn’t,” I conceded.
I wasn’t the smartest man in town, but I was far from stupid and there was no way I was going to contradict Harper now. I ran my hands up and down her arms and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Why don’t you go on upstairs. Get comfortable. I’ll help Agnes finish cleaning up down here then meet you upstairs in bed.”
“Uh, that sounds good. These boots are starting to hurt. And I want to check the Mudville forum. I haven’t been on there for hours. I have to see what that damn Anonymous is up to.”
At that very pointed confirmation that Harper was completely obsessed with my posts on that damn forum, I donned my best poker face.
I drew in a breath and forced a smile I didn’t feel. “Okay.”
In contrast, Harper’s smile looked completely genuine as she squeezed me around the middle. “Thank you, baby. You’re the best. I’ll give you a big thank you when you get upstairs.”
“Sounds good.” If only I’d be able to enjoy her thanks without guilt.
Harper’s grin was wide as she delivered a big air kiss to me before sashaying her way across the room and up the stairs. I could see the second martini had hit her hard.
Her having that third one was probably a horrendously bad idea.
I figured she’d be snoring by the time I got upstairs, which might be for the best since the last thing I wanted to do was talk more about my forum alter ego.
Of course, that would mean I’d miss out on the sex she’d just promised me, but for my own sanity that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.
I helped Agnes with the dishes and clean up, and then headed upstairs a little over an hour later.
Harper, as predicted, was sleeping. Snoring adorably, curled up on top
of the comforter, but under her favorite throw.
Next to her on the bed was the laptop, open, the screen glowing bright in the dimly lit room.
I walked slowly toward the bed, attempting to be quiet so the creaky old floor didn’t wake her.
When I got close enough, I reached out and grabbed the laptop. I carried it to the desk I’d never seen her sit at and set down the computer. I was about to flip the lid closed when I noticed the title of the document open on the screen. Title TBD
Hmm. Had she actually finally started her new book?
That was very good news. I’d seen what the stress of a deadline could do to her. And, as her boyfriend, to me too. Not to mention Agnes. We’d all learned to walk on eggs when Harper was up against a deadline.
Honestly, I was impressed she’d started the new book in the middle of her running my election campaign, and in between her stalking the Mudville forum.
My girl always had been a go-getter. Although I had to think her trying to work tonight after drinking all those martinis might not have been the greatest idea. It was for the best she’d fallen asleep.
I angled the screen and started to skim what she’d written.
The first sentence had me frowning. The second paragraph had my eyes opening wide. And by the end of the first chapter I was honesty starting to get a little scared.
I glanced at the woman looking so sweet on the bed, then back at the laptop.
Was this what was going on in that head of hers? Homicide? Torture?
I thought after two years of being together, Harper couldn’t do much to surprise me anymore. Well, except for demanding I run for mayor. That had been a shocker. But besides that, I’d thought I had her all figured out.
Now I had to wonder. Did I know her at all? More importantly, should I be worried?
As I was pondering that, Harper stirred on the bed. She uncurled herself from the ball, straightened out her legs and rolled over onto her back.
She spotted me and stretched in a long slow fluid motion just like one of the barn cats.
“Hi,” she said, her voice sounding sleepy and a bit raspy.
“Hi.” I debated for a few seconds before I got up the nerve to say, “The laptop was open to a document. What are you writing? It didn’t seem like your new book.”
