He tapped the bedsheet again, drawing her attention to the motion of his fingers. The longer she watched, the more discernible the pattern became. It was almost familiar, and a sound, almost forgotten, accompanied the motion in Priscilla’s head. It was a rhythmic beeping, with uniform dips between each word. She’d operated a telegraph before, when it was the only form of long distance communication that Bellmare had.
“Morse code,” she breathed.
Matthew nodded stiffly. She dug around in her bag, looking for the legal pad she kept inside just in case. “Can you start that again?”
He did, and slowly, painstakingly, she rendered the message. It was simple, and not grammatically correct, but the message was clear.
I NO KILL.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You know I find that hard to believe. They found the receipt in your room, Matthew. You paid $2000 to have your wife murdered after your wedding. Did you get impatient, or did your accomplice?”
He tapped furiously on his bedsheet.
NO.
“No? No, you didn’t get impatient, or no, you didn’t pay for it?”
He screwed his face up in concentration.
BOTH. DAD PAID.
“Your father paid? You brought your family in on the plot?”
He let out a soft, irritated sound.
KIERRA’S DAD.
She snorted. “Now I know that is just complete malarkey, Matthew. Kierra’s father has been calling the Bellmare PD almost nonstop since the murder occurred.”
Tears welled in his eyes again and streaked down his face. She felt a momentary pang of pity. They ran down his face and into the bottom of his neck brace. That would feel terrible, on top of all the pain he was already experiencing.
GIFT FOR HER. HIRED ACTOR LIKE THE MOVIES. WANTED TO SAVE HER.
It took her longer to puzzle out his meaning this time, and when she did, she wanted to smack him upside the head.
“You hired an actor to scare your wife on your honeymoon?” she hissed. “So you could play the big strong man and save her from the boogeyman in the haunted house?”
He nodded wearily, finally shutting his eyes. Priscilla stared at him for a long moment. She wasn’t sure if she believed him. Why had he run, if that had been the case? Why had he tried to end his life when it looked like he’d be caught? There had to be more to it than a joke that was in poor taste.
Priscilla leaned back in her chair and watched Matthew as his breathing evened and he fell into an uneasy sleep. She wished she could join him. Closing her mind to this busy day would be a relief.
But the moon was still high. Sleep was a long way off for her.
Chapter Nine
Priscilla wondered if this was what it was like to suffer a hangover. Her head throbbed and her stomach kept lurching. With nothing inside it to expel, she was left in a constant state of misery. She pushed Arthur’s sunglasses up the bridge of her nose, as if they could somehow protect her from the ultraviolet rays more than they already were.
“You look like death,” Arthur said cheerfully, turning off the siren that he’d turned on to get through the push of morning traffic that surrounded the hospital. She’d wanted to strangle it when he flipped the switch.
“Ha-ha, and did I mention, ha,” she said in a horrible sneering voice. It didn’t sound like her own.
Arthur laughed. “You are not a morning person, are you?”
“I’m a vampire, Arthur. I am, by definition, a night owl.”
“You said you had something important to tell me on the phone,” he said.
She related the story of Matthew’s late-night communication to Arthur, complete with the explanation of his innocence.
“You don’t buy it, do you?” Arthur said, glancing her way. She tried not to look at anything too hard. His head appeared blurry and haloed in bright light when she tried to get a good look at him.
“I don’t know,” she groaned, putting her head in her hands. The extra layer of darkness helped ease the throbbing behind her eyes, just a little. “I wasn’t really in a position to authenticate his claim. It does seem a little strange for Kierra’s father, of all people, to hire an actor to scare his kid.”
“It’s a load,” Arthur said, turning the corner too quickly. Her throat constricted and something that tasted suspiciously like bad blood crawled its way up her throat. It appeared she did have something to expel after all. She swallowed back, rather than spitting it all over the dashboard.
“What if it’s not?” she asked weakly. “He doesn’t seem like the type to kill, Arthur.”
“Neither do most serial killers, Priscilla. The disturbing thing about murderers is their normalcy. They could be your neighbor, your friend, your children.”
She was too tired and achy to put up much of an argument. In just a few hours, Jack would call Judge Brimsey and request a subpoena for Tobias Kennedy’s records. By the time she woke in the evening, they might have the proof they needed to lock Matthew Porter away for a long time.
Arthur rolled to a stop at the intersection and then turned left, toward her street.
“What on earth?” he said, staring at the road ahead.
Priscilla raised her head slightly and squinted through the dark filter of the sunglasses. It was hard to make out anything through the haze of sunlight. “What’s going on?”
“The square is absolutely packed. I can’t find a spot anywhere.” He turned and gave her a look. “Did you have a sale and forget to tell anyone?”
“No,” she said, burying her face in her hands once more. “The shop should be closed and Anna was supposed to turn in at midnight.”
“Well, she didn’t,” he said. “There are people filtering in and out of your shop as we speak.”
It took Arthur another few minutes to squeeze his car in between a Prius and Olivia’s brown sedan. Wonderful. She’d have to face down that hurdle too.
“Are you going to be okay?” Arthur asked.
“Just get me inside,” she moaned.
Arthur got a hand around her arm when they exited the car and he half carried her to her front door. The sound of the bell clawed at Priscilla’s ears and she fought not to whimper. There were easily 50 people in her shop. They turned to look at her as she entered.
Smells assaulted her nose at the same instant. The meaty smell of bacon frying would have been pleasant at any other time, but now it made her stomach roll. There was a subtler smell that she recognized as eggs, and the rich smell of something baking.
“Priscilla?” Olivia’s voice cut through the low buzz of voices more clearly than anything else. Her vision swam for a moment and then Olivia was in front of her, grabbing her shoulders as if she was a small child. Arthur kept a hand on her back as Olivia led her away from the light and the low drone of sound.
“What’s wrong with her?” Arthur asked.
“Light sickness,” Olivia said, backing away as Priscilla bent over a trash can and retched. “Why didn’t you bring her home before sunrise, Arthur? This is the worst case I’ve ever seen.”
“I didn’t know,” Arthur said, raising his hands defensively. “I thought vampires could go out in the daylight.”
“Yes, but they’re practically blind!” Olivia cried. “Her brain can’t handle that much light anymore. It makes her sick. It could even render her temporarily blind.”
“I didn’t know,” Arthur repeated sheepishly. “Or I wouldn’t have …”
“Wouldn’t have what?” Olivia snapped.
“Wouldn’t have dragged her out into it twice in one week,” Arthur said.
“What is everyone doing here?” Priscilla groaned. “The shop is supposed to be closed.”
“People were waiting for you to arrive home with the story,” Olivia explained, guiding her toward the staircase. “I was still here and I whipped up breakfast. It’s my signature bacon and egg soup.”
Ah, so that was what she’d been smelling. But why? Why had Olivia done this for her? Or was this kindness simply a r
eaction to her illness? Her stomach rolled again. “’m sorry,” she tried to turn to face Olivia. “Sorry that I’m so awful to you, ’livia. I don’t mean to be.”
Olivia’s face softened for just an instant. “I know. Now get upstairs. You’ll feel better when you’ve slept.”
Olivia followed her up the steps to her attic apartment, making sure she didn’t fall. Priscilla had never in her life suffered a case of light sickness this awful. She wasn’t sure if it was the repeated exposure, or that she’d never actually been awake at ten in the morning before.
Some of the discomfort eased when she entered the bedroom. Olivia had pulled the blackout curtains and turned on the heater. Maddison looked very small on the queen-sized bed. Olivia carefully slid her daughter over to one side of the bed, making room for Priscilla.
Priscilla wanted to argue that Maddison could have the bed, and that she’d use a sleeping bag. Olivia pushed her insistently onto the mattress. “Sleep.”
As soon as her head hit the pillow, Priscilla lost the will to argue. Her eyes closed and in a few minutes, she was lost to dreams.
She woke well after the sun had set. She found herself curled around Maddison, who seemed to find the whole thing amusing.
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a cuddler,” she said with a smirk.
“Oh, hush,” Priscilla said, yawning hugely. She still wasn’t fully rested, but at least the worst of the sickness had passed. “How long have you been awake?”
“Five minutes or so. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“How long did you stay last night?” she asked, guilt making her insides squirm. She’d make sure that Maddison and Olivia were properly compensated for the hours they’d worked. They shouldn’t have had to step in on her behalf.
“Until breakfast, I think. I turned in as the sun began to rise. What time did you get home?”
“Ten,” she replied, making a face. “I was very sick.”
“I bet,” Maddison said. “If I stay out past sunrise for even a few minutes, I puke. It’s a fantastic waste of blood.”
Priscilla didn’t bother changing out of last night’s clothing, just seized the brush from her bathroom while Maddison changed into the sweater and blue jeans her mother had packed in an overnight bag. Once the snarls were out of her hair, she felt satisfied enough to descend the stairs into the kitchen.
The scent of garlic and onions hit her with full force. She wrinkled her nose. What on earth was Olivia cooking this time?
Thankfully, the day’s essentials had been started in the oven as well. The person she had to thank for that was happily devouring a bowl of soup at a table in her lobby. Anna slurped up another mouthful even as she waved to Priscilla.
“Good evening,” Olivia greeted, waving a spoon over her shoulder. She didn’t look up from the pot that she was busy stirring.
“I hope you didn’t stay up all day,” Priscilla said, drawing level with her. “It will ruin your health if you don’t sleep.”
“You’ll be relieved to know that I’ve gotten six hours of sleep. I sent the breakfast crowd home at eleven and went home. It’s seven now, and I’ve been working for an hour.”
“Working on what, exactly?”
“Minestrone,” Olivia said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Actual food went over so well this morning, I thought it would be worth repeating.”
Anna froze, watching Priscilla like a frightened rabbit. It was that reaction that tempered Priscilla’s angry response to Olivia’s presumption. She’d started off the day well by apologizing. She could extend an olive branch, if she chose.
“That sounds like an excellent idea,” Priscilla said, happy her tone came out sounding tired rather than angry.
Olivia peeked at her out of the corner of one eye. “Do you mean it?”
“I do,” Priscilla said. “But I think we’ll have to work out a better system than this one, sometime. I don’t think that your ingredients will mix well with mine and I don’t want any cross-contamination.”
“Right,” Olivia said, smiling a little. “I suppose I could cook it at home and bring it in later.”
“We’ll figure something out,” Priscilla promised, warmth blossoming in her chest. She hadn’t seen such a pleased look on her friend’s face since she’d first announced that she wanted to start her own catering business.
Priscilla flipped the sign on the front door to “Open” and waited for the first customers of the day to roll in. Anna finished off her soup with a loud smack of lips and rounded the counter with her empty bowl. She sauntered past to deposit the dish in the sink.
“Daddy said he needed to talk to you,” Anna called over her shoulder. “He said he wanted you to call as soon as you were feeling better.”
Priscilla considered ignoring the request. Hadn’t yesterday been busy enough? She’d gone through a lot on Arthur’s behalf and had received only anger and mistreatment in return. Even after saving a man’s life, she’d been berated.
She knew she wouldn’t, though. Like many vampires, she was something of a product of her time. The good of the community was at stake, and she’d do what she could even if it cost her money, sleep, and friends.
She turned back to Olivia. “Could you please watch the shop? I have a feeling I’ll be gone for a little while. I pay my employees $12 an hour. I’ll pay for the extra time, in addition to what you’ve already earned.”
“All right,” Olivia said warily, bristling a little at the term employee. Still, it seemed as if she was trying just as hard as Priscilla to keep things friendly between them.
She dialed the station on her rotary phone and waited. The phone rang four times before the voicemail played. Priscilla hung up and tried again, this time dialing Arthur’s cell phone. She had to admit the devices were convenient, even if she couldn’t figure out how to work the things on her own.
Arthur’s phone rang three times and she was preparing to try Jamie Emmerson’s number, in hopes that he was with the chief, when Arthur picked up. But for a minute all she could hear was heavy breathing and the sound of muttered cursing.
“Arthur?”
“Priscilla, thank God,” Arthur said. “Are you better?”
“Mostly. What’s wrong? You sound like you’re running. You know you shouldn’t on your bad leg.”
“Hang what I’m supposed to do,” he snarled. “I’m moving slower than a tortoise and I need someone there now.”
“Where? Where do you need someone, Arthur? Where is everyone?”
“I sent them all home or to the hospital,” he said. “They’ve all been working double shifts and we have a guy in custody. Cunningham’s lawyer was happy to hear it and told his boss to get off my back. I thought we had it under control, but someone blabbed and now—”
“And now what?” Priscilla demanded. “Arthur, where’s your car? Where are you?”
“They stole it. I’m hobbling as fast as I can, Priscilla, but I’m not going to make it in time. I need you to go.”
“Go where?”
“Kennedy’s apothecary,” Arthur said. “Mr. Porter’s friends got wind of the details and they’re at his shop now. They’re trying to kill him.”
Easy Homemade Fondant
While it is easy to find fondant for sale, I prefer to make mine from scratch. Perhaps I’m old-fashioned, or maybe I’m too stubborn to change. For any of you wishing to learn the secret to homemade fondant, I’m willing to share it here. And while it is tempting, please refrain from using your unfinished fondant and leftover marshmallows to make snowmen (this means you, Anna.)
—Olivia Baker
Ingredients
4 cups confectioners’ sugar
3 ½ cups marshmallows
2/3 cups chopped white baking chocolate
2 tbsp water
Optional: Red or pink food coloring (or any color you would like)
Directions
Put the sugar into a large bowl, making sure there are no clumps. Then make a dent or a well i
n the center.
Next, in a microwave-safe bowl, combine the marshmallows and water, then microwave for 35 seconds. Stir well. Put the mixture back into the microwave for 30-second increments, until the marshmallows have melted completed. You want this mixture to be completely smooth, no lumps.
Once you have taken the bowl out of the oven, add the chopped white baking chocolate and stir to help the chocolate melt. Continue stirring until the mixture is smooth. Add food coloring at this stage, if you would like.
Pour this mixture into the confectioners’ sugar well you created earlier. Blend until all the sugar has been added. You may need to knead the fondant with your hands towards the end.
Wrap the fondant in plastic wrap, place it into a Ziploc bag, and leave for a few hours or overnight.
Making a Fondant Rose
Roll out a small piece of the fondant (no bigger than a dime) into the shape of a teardrop. Do not make this bigger than the cookie cutter you will use for the circles. Position a toothpick in the bottom center of the teardrop.
Next, cut out 10 circles with a cookie cutter, then use a ball tool (or the base of a small melon baller) and thin out the edges on the top half of the circle.
Use a small ball tool to make a small dent in the middle of the circle, and pull it down to make the end slightly pointy.
Next, brush a little drop of water onto the bottom of the petal, then wrap the petal around the teardrop and add a second petal. Make sure the second petal ends inside the first.
Complete this process for a third row, making sure the last petal in this row ends inside the first of the row. Continue until you use all the petals.
Lastly, use your fingertips to softly bend the tops over to look like a natural rose.
Chapter Ten
Over 300 years of life, and she’d never experienced a week as bad as this one. That had to be an accomplishment.
Priscilla didn’t have time to explain to Olivia or Anna. She donned her sneakers, snatched her bag as fast as she could, and raced out the door, scarf flapping like a windsock behind her as she ran. She belatedly realized it was the night of the big game as she spotted several students trooping home decked out in the school’s colors, maroon and gold. The young people gawked at her as she raced past, weaving in and out of the crowd to avoid hitting anyone.
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