by Libby Howard
“Okay, you win. Time to send in the big dogs.”
Chapter 26
I spent the rest of the weekend trying to knit a reasonably functional washcloth, planning out a small vegetable garden, reading, and trying not to think about Caryn Swanson, or Pete Briscane. It was difficult with Daisy wanting to discuss the case every morning after yoga. I kept my mouth shut, though, and filled the hours with as much as I could.
True to his word, Judge Beck took Madison shopping on Sunday afternoon. The poor guy looked like he was ready for a bottle of whisky when they came through the doors, arms laden with shopping bags. Madison modeled several dresses and what seemed like a hundred shirts and skirts. Then I was treated to a preview of an eyeshadow palette and some pencil that was supposed to make her eyebrows “on-fleek,” whatever that meant.
I loved it. And Judge Beck obviously did too, even though he’d clearly had his fill of teen fashion and makeup. When her mom honked outside to pick her up, Madison practically bounced with excitement. She grabbed the bags and was halfway to the door before turning around and rushing into her father’s arms.
“Thank you, Daddy. I love you.”
“I love you too, Maddy.”
I saw his face as his daughter hugged him, saw his expression as he said the words back, as he waved and watched her leave. Then I saw his face as he turned and went up the stairs to his bedroom. He loved his kids. I was pretty sure he still loved Heather. And this whole thing was like a knife tearing through his chest.
On Monday morning I was back at my desk, once again wading my way through Credicorp files and two background-checks for bail requests. J.T. was late, but that wasn’t unusual on a Monday morning. He often ran by the courthouse on his way in, or met with potential clients. By ten o’clock I could resist no longer. I set aside the folders and once again logged onto Caryn Swanson’s social media accounts, digging up pictures from six months back and earlier. There was nothing there beyond pictures from her company’s events, some vacation pictures, a few family shots, and selfies.
But one of the selfies caught my eye. It was one of those horrible bathroom-pics taken in the mirror, but instead of seeing a toilet or dirty tub in the background, the picture showed an open doorway into what looked to be a bedroom.
And there, standing in front of the bed, shirtless and easing down his pants was a man. I caught my breath and enlarged the photo, hoping it was who I thought.
Pete Briscane. This was proof that he was having sex with Caryn if not a client. Perhaps this, plus all the other circumstantial evidence and David’s testimony, would add up to enough. Perhaps.
The bell chimed and I looked up with a smile on my face to greet my boss. It wasn’t J.T. walking over to me as I sat in front of the computer. It was our mayor.
His eyes flicked to the screen on my computer and narrowed. “Missed seeing you at the truck stop, Kay.”
My heart felt like it was about ready to fly out of my chest. He was blocking my only exit. There was no way I could get to a phone before he tackled me, and the guy had a good seventy pounds on me. Plus, he was skilled at strangling women. I, on the other hand, was not skilled at escaping murderers.
But it seemed strangling wasn’t what he had in mind. Pete pulled a pistol from his jacket pocket and flicked off the safety.
“J.T. will be here any minute,” I told him.
“No, he won’t. He’s meeting me for brunch. I’ll take care of you, go have french toast with my friend, then be as shocked and horrified as he is when he finds your dead body.”
“David told us,” I said, desperate to stall long enough to think of a way out of this. Could I somehow manage to go all Hulk, tip over the desk and use it as a shield? Could I throw a pencil and manage to hit him in the eye? “David told Judge Beck and I everything. I’m not the only one who knows. We know about Desiree, about your fetish, about how you were a client of Caryn’s.”
He shrugged. “There’s no evidence. And the detectives in our illustrious small-town police force? They couldn’t investigate their way out of a paper bag. You’re the only one putting the pieces together, Kay. I need to make sure you don’t dig up enough to make this a problem for me. The case needs to die, and so do you.”
I gritted my teeth, posed to rush him, when the door chimed. There was that second where it seemed time stopped. Pete’s eyes shifted to the door. I dove under the desk. And a burly guy with head-stubble and cowboy boots tackled the mayor.
The gun went off. J.T. threw an amazing right hook, and before I could craw out from under the desk, my boss had the gun. Pete was facedown on the floor, his arm twisted behind him, J.T.’s knee on his back. I dialed 911, and because the courthouse was right across the street, we had half a dozen police in our office within seconds.
Pete was hauled off in cuffs, the gun bagged and tagged, statements taken, and I found myself staring at a bullet hole in our office wall and my computer screen with a picture of a half-naked Pete Briscane behind and to the right of Caryn Swanson in a hotel room.
That’s when I started to shake, my knees buckling. Thankfully, my office chair was right behind me.
“You okay, Kay?” J.T. asked.
He was flushed, eyes shining with excitement. I thought he’d be shocked and horrified over the arrest of one of his friends, but that wasn’t the case. I figured out why from what he said next.
“Did you get any video of that? Did anyone get video of that? Did you see me? Now that’s reality show stuff, right there. Snake doesn’t tackle politicians who are trying to kill his assistant. If nobody got video, I’ll need to do a recreation. Do you think that would work? We could flash recreated on the screen. Yes. That way I can make sure my head is freshly shaven and I’ve got a cowboy belt on.”
J.T. I loved the guy. He’d saved my life, and if he wanted me to hold a video camera while he tackled an actor portraying Pete Briscane, I would absolutely do it.
“It is reality show stuff, J.T. This whole week has been an episode of Snake, Bounty Hunter.”
My boss’s chest puffed out. “That’s Pierson, Bounty Hunter.”
Chapter 27
News spreads fast in a little town like Locust Point. I came home to find Daisy camped out on my doorstep, a bottle of wine and two glasses in her hand.
“Good grief, Kay. I don’t know what shocked me more, that Pete Briscane is a murderer, or that he almost shot you dead right in your office.”
It sounded ridiculously dramatic, but that’s what happened. Maybe J.T. was right and we did have the makings of a good reality television show, or at the very least, a Lifetime special movie.
“I’m just glad J.T. stopped by the office to grab some files,” I told her as I opened the door.
She shook her head. “J.T. Pierson, action hero. Who would have thought it? That’s one more thing that shocks me. The day is full of unbelievable events. Next thing you’ll tell me that Taco is penning a bestseller and Judge Beck is going to pole dance in his underwear for my birthday.”
Once again Daisy’s imagination had flown to the next state. “I think three unbelievable events in one week is enough.”
She poured a glass of wine and handed it to me. “My birthday isn’t for three weeks, so I’m still holding out hope for Judge Beck in his underwear.”
We drank our wine, and I started to feel less like an almost-murder-victim. By the time Judge Beck and the kids came home, I was nearly back to normal. Once again, I had to go over the whole story, with Henry, Madison, and Daisy acting out the roles in my living room. The judge declared it was a good night for pizza, and we all sat at my dining room table and ate.
After the last slice of four-cheese had been eaten, the kids went upstairs to do their homework. We all stayed and chatted, Judge Beck joining us in a glass of wine. Eventually he made his way upstairs, and soon after, Daisy left with the empty wine bottle to her home, leaving me alone.
But I wasn’t alone. I had good friends. I had a boss that had tackled and disarme
d a killer. I had a roommate and his two kids that were fast becoming like a family to me. I had my beloved Taco. And I had my shadowy floater friend who was back, hovering just out of view in the corner of the dining room. This new stage in my life seemed less scary. In fact, this new stage in my life seemed like it was turning into something grand.
I picked up Taco and headed toward the stairs down to the television room. Rom Com? Why yes, I thought it was an excellent night for romantic comedy. Glancing out of the corner of my eye at the shadow, I jerked my head.
“Come on. You too. If you’re lucky, I might even let you pick the movie tonight.”
For more Kay Carrera, grab Junkyard Man, A Locust Point Mystery #2
Release Date August 24,2017
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Lyndsey Lewellen for cover design and typography, and to Erin Zarro for copyediting.
About the Author
Libby Howard lives in a little house in the woods with her sons and two exuberant bloodhounds. She occasionally knits, occasionally bakes, and occasionally manages to do a load of laundry. Most of her writing is done in a bar where she can combine work with people-watching, a decent micro-brew, and a plate of Old Bay wings.
For more information:
[email protected]
Also by Libby Howard
Locust Point Mystery Series:
The Tell All
Junkyard Man
Antique Secrets (September 2017)
Hometown Hero (October 2017)
A Literary Scandal (November 2017)
