Scry Me A River: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (Blood Visions Paranormal Mysteries Book 2)

by Donna White Glaser

"Sorry." Arie slid from her chair, crawling under the table after her marker. She bumped into several legs, including the troll lady's, who kicked her in the butt. Arie decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and assumed that was by accident.

  By the time she regained her seat, she'd missed the calls for three more numbers, but Connor, though laughing so hard tears ran down his cheeks, had dutifully marked the numbers on her card in her absence.

  "Thanks," she mumbled.

  One thing Arie's clumsiness accomplished was clearing the seats nearest her and Connor as the players moved away, giving the two the opportunity to talk more freely. She had a hard time keeping up with the numbers on her card and finally shoved it aside. Connor was able to multitask, managing to listen to Arie describe the people and relationships she'd uncovered at the rec center as well as mark his card. In fact, he ended up grabbing her cards and filling them in, too.

  During the third game, Arie heard a familiar voice holler, "Bingo!" Grumpa was waving his card, a grin stretched across his grizzled face.

  The people around him, mostly center residents, groaned and complained about "beginner’s luck," which only added to Grumpa's happiness.

  "Beginner's luck?" Arie muttered. "Why don't I ever get lucky?"

  A flash fire of embarrassment coursed through her body as soon as she realized what she'd said. One glance at Connor’s twinkling eyes assured Arie that he hadn't missed it, either.

  He leaned over, whispering into her ear, "I ask myself that every time I see you."

  His breath tickled.

  "Then why didn't you call me for three weeks?"

  Holy cats! She’d said that out loud!

  Connor pulled back until they were nose to nose. He smelled like mint toothpaste, and his lips were close enough to...

  "I guess I do owe you an explanation," he said.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  They left Grumpa inside, crowing about his victory, and went out to Connor's Jeep. Arie settled into the passenger's seat, her back against the door so she could see his face. Connor rested an arm on the steering wheel and stared out the window as if the weathered cinder-block wall of the VFW held answers to questions he hadn't yet asked.

  After a few moments of silence, he turned to Arie. "Do you want to get some coffee?"

  Of course she didn't want to get coffee. She recognized a delaying tactic when she heard one. "You're stalling."

  "How about ice cream?"

  Well, hey now. Ice cream. That was a different story now, wasn't it? Arie plastered a long-suffering expression on her face and deigned to reply. "I suppose."

  "Dairy Queen or—"

  "Whelan's."

  "Absolutely. Whelan's it is."

  Not until Connor had his double-scoop cookies-and-cream waffle cone, and Arie her banana split, did he finally start talking. "It's not that I didn't want to call you. I did."

  He paused. Arie watched a thin rivulet of ice cream drip down his knuckles. She wanted to lick it up, but first things first.

  After the silence stretched out unbearably, she said, "It's because you hate how I get involved with your cases, isn't it? I know that's an issue, but I can't help it. Please let me explain."

  "I hate your interference, and it is an issue, but that's not the only reason I didn't call."

  Arie's heart sank. "Oh crud. You're married, aren't you?" She covered her face with her sticky hands, not wanting to even look at him. "I can't believe this. I'm practically an adulteress. My mother's going to kill me."

  "I'm not married." Connor pulled her hands down. He didn't let go, and their stickiness mingled. "Not anymore."

  "Not anymore?"

  Connor signed. "I'm divorced. I have—"

  "I was your rebound girl, wasn't I?"

  "Not at all. I've been divorced almost two years now. I've dated other women before, but not anything serious."

  Does that mean he thinks this is serious? Arie's heart fluttered. But still... "Then what is it?"

  "Not what. Who."

  "Okay, then. Who?" Please don't let him say Steve Somebody or Rick Somebody or—

  "My daughter, Maeve."

  Daughter? Arie choked on her own tongue. Turned out to be only a slice of banana, but that was a scary four seconds. Connor went back to the counter for a glass of water, which gave her time to compose herself.

  Apparently, that wasn't enough time, because when Connor returned with the water, Arie stood abruptly. "I need to get back to the VFW. Grumpa will be wondering where I—"

  "Arie, sit down. Finish your ice cream."

  Well... maybe just a few more bites.

  After they sat, Connor pulled out his cell phone, flipping through the apps to the photo gallery. "Here. This is Maeve."

  He showed Arie a picture of a little girl, dark curls frothing around her head and a wide, gap-toothed grin lighting up her face. She looked to be about five or six and had her father's eyes.

  "She's adorable," Arie said.

  "That she is." Connor’s smile matched his offspring's, albeit with all teeth accounted for.

  "And I bet she has you wrapped around her little finger, too."

  "She does have a certain influence over me, I'll admit. But that's as it should be."

  Arie nodded, thinking of her relationship with her father—a good one when they were able to work around her mother's control issues. "That is how it should be. So, uh, how does your little girl play into why you haven't called me? She hasn't even met me, so it's not as if she doesn't like me."

  "Well, that's just it." Connor tucked the phone back into his pocket. "She hasn't met any of my... Uh, I mean I haven't wanted to introduce her to anyone. 'Til now."

  "'Til... now?" Her heart was thumping so hard she thought she could feel her boobs jiggle.

  "See, I've got full custody. My ex, Jillianne, has visitation rights, but she's not exactly reliable. She'll call and say she's coming to pick Maeve up, and then she's four hours late. That's if she shows up at all. And she seems to have a new guy every time I turn around. Maeve has enough trouble dealing with her mom's issues, so I made a vow to myself early on that I wouldn't add to the chaos."

  "I completely understand." Arie reached over and held his hand. "You're a good dad."

  His eyes met hers. "I'm trying. My sister lives a few houses down, and she helps out, especially if I have a case where I need to put in extra hours. Which seems to be every case, as far as that goes."

  Arie nodded.

  "So here's the thing," Connor continued. "I'm still not ready for you to meet Maeve, but... well... I'm fairly certain that someday I will be. I mean, we've only gone on a few dates, so even though I like you"—his thumb glided over her fingers—"very much, I need to be responsible about this, you know? For Maeve's sake. I need to go slow."

  Arie nodded again. "I get it. I do. And it's okay. I'm fine with slow."

  Connor pulled his hand back. Arie immediately missed the warmth. "And I've got to be honest, Arie. Your little... sleuthing habit is a factor, too. It's dangerous, and you aren't trained to handle the kind of trouble your actions are sure to get you into. Heck, they've already almost gotten you killed. And," he continued, "that's not even taking into consideration the ways you might be screwing up the real investigation. I can't have that."

  The sudden chill in the air had nothing to do with the ice-cream shop. Arie rubbed her arms again.

  When Arie picked Grumpa up at the VFW, he wasn't at all pleased to find out that not only had she abandoned him at bingo, but she'd also neglected to bring him any ice cream.

  "It would have melted," Arie explained for the fourth time. She gripped the steering wheel to keep from reaching over and strangling him.

  "Then you should have brought me with instead of sticking me with that crazy woman. D'you know she thinks we're going steady now?"

  "They don't call it going steady anymore."

  "Well, whatever they call it, I ain't doin' it!"

  "Good lord, I hope not," Arie
muttered. She pulled the car into the driveway and parked.

  "Hey, old people have sex too, missy. And what's more," he said as he hoisted himself from the passenger seat, "we like it." He slammed the car door. "Just not with no crazy boa constrictor–leopard woman. She don't even know what species she wants to be."

  "Connor is coming over," Arie called to her grandfather as he made for the house. "He wants to hear about your date."

  "It wasn't a date!"

  They entered through the side door leading into the kitchen. Grumpa made a beeline to the refrigerator freezer and pawed through the contents. "When are you going to get some food in here? A man could starve to death."

  "I went grocery shopping yesterday. We have plenty of food. Besides, you're not supposed to eat after seven o'clock. It's not good for your—"

  "Don't you start with me, you ice-cream sneaker. And you can tell your cop friend that I ain't talking. I'm tired."

  A knock sounded at the door, and Arie hurried to answer it before Grumpa disappeared into his bedroom.

  "What took you so long?" she asked as Connor walked in. "I thought you were right behind us."

  He held up a package with a Dairy Queen logo on it. "I stopped for Dilly Bars. Thought Harlan might like some ice cream, too."

  Grumpa spun around, the freezer hunt forgotten. "Butterscotch?"

  "Yep. And chocolate too, just in case."

  Grumpa shot another glare at his granddaughter. "I guess some people are more considerate than others."

  Arie had a difficult moment, trying to roll her eyes at Grumpa while simultaneously smiling her gratitude to Connor. The effort made her dizzy.

  "Not a problem, Harlan. And I sure appreciate you sparing me some time to ask you about your date this evening."

  "It wasn't a date!" Grumpa snatched the DQ bag out of Connor's hand and pulled a chair out from the table.

  "Your... reconnaissance, then."

  "Reconnaissance, huh?" Grumpa mulled over the phrase. "Yeah, that's it. Kinda like James Bond."

  Arie snorted, joining Connor and Grumpa at the table. She reached for the DQ bag, but Grumpa slapped her hand.

  "You had yours," he said.

  "Don't be so greedy. You can't eat them all. Maybe Connor wants to take some home."

  "No, no, that's fine. They're for you two." Connor pulled a pen and notebook out and set them on the table in front of him. "So, Harlan, what insights can you give me about Bernie Reynolds?"

  Grumpa stuffed the DQ bag in the freezer then returned to his seat. "For one thing, even though he seemed like the BMC, nobody seemed to like him."

  "BMC?"

  "Big Man on Campus. The one everyone listens to whether they like him or not."

  "And nobody liked him?" Connor asked.

  "Well, not counting Miss Boa Constrictor Fancy Pants."

  "That would be Viv, the lady Grumpa took to bingo," Arie explained. When Grumpa visibly bristled, Arie added, "For reconnaissance purposes."

  He subsided. "The other women liked him for some things." Grumpa gave Connor a man-of-the-world look. "And of course, Miss Boa Constrictor Fancy Pants fell pretty hard. But then she's like that. All clingy and possessive." He grimaced and turned to Arie. "Do you know she pitched a fit just because she smelled lavender on me? I think she knows it was from Belinda."

  "Lavender?" Connor asked.

  Grumpa's face turned red at his slip. "Just never you mind about that."

  "Lavender's supposed to be good for sleeping," Connor said.

  "And so it is, young man. So it is. Anyway, she was sure loopy doo lovey-dovey over the guy. Who knows why? He sure didn't treat her or any of his lady friends very nice. I guess some women go for that."

  "That's ridiculous," Arie started.

  Connor held a palm up, asking her to wait.

  "Well, Viv did, anyway,” Grumpa continued, “but I think Bernie might have been nicer to the other gals."

  "Why do you say that?" Connor asked.

  "He seems like the kind of mope who knew just how far to push people, especially the ladies."

  "And knew just what they wanted to hear," Connor added.

  "Especially the ladies. He was a salesman, you know. Pharmaceuticals. He would have been used to studying people, figuring out how to work 'em. He had Viv eating out of his hand. She spent a lot of money on him. She's like that. Tries to buy presents for people, like the paintbrushes she brung me."

  "She bought Bernie a watch," Arie said. "I saw it. She made him a picnic and everything and then gave him the watch. He was really dismissive of it too because it wasn't a Rolex. I wanted to smack him, but you know... He was already dead."

  "I can see where that would be an obstacle," Grumpa said.

  "Yeah. And then on top of that, she went broke because of him."

  "Pretty good motive," Connor said, jotting down a note.

  "Wasn't just her, though," Grumpa said. "He dumped all the women he was seeing then."

  "Arie mentioned that earlier. But there may have been some mystery woman, right? Viv have any idea who that might have been?"

  "She doesn't know, but she's still miffed over it. She says it's gotta be someone from the home or the center. I don't know who else would be left. He seems to have worked his way through all the ladies there."

  "What if it was someone he'd already... worked through?" Arie wasn't comfortable with the terminology, but it was what it was.

  "What do you mean?" Connor asked.

  "Well, what about Phyllis? She was in the first vision he showed me. They used to meet at the center, too."

  "If that's the case, then you can be sure Larry would have something to say," Grumpa said with a snort. "He'd kill ol' Bernie if he thought... Uh-oh."

  "It would be nice if it was that easy," Connor said, "but there's no reason to think the new lady would be Phyllis in the first place. And no proof if it was."

  "Who else could it be?"

  "Surely there are other women there."

  "Lots. But Viv would have been watching for one of them." Grumpa shuddered. "The woman's relentless."

  Connor chuckled. "Got roped into a second date, huh?"

  Grumpa shot to his feet. "It wasn't a date!"

  He stomped into the other room, leaving Arie alone with Connor... and the Dilly Bars. She shivered.

  The trouble started when Arie mentioned how funny it was going to be watching Grumpa try and disentangle himself from Viv now that she had her claws in him.

  "Wait," Connor said, lowering his butterscotch Dilly Bar. "You're going back?"

  "What do you mean? Of course we're going back."

  "But I thought this"—Connor's hand sketched a circle that included himself, Arie, and Grumpa, even though he was in the other room, and ice cream dripped on the table—"meant you were finally coming to your senses."

  "My senses?" Arie reared back.

  Connor tossed his ice-cream bar into the sink. "I thought you understood how I can't have you... tangled up... in my homicide case."

  "Connor, you don't understand. It's not that easy. I can't just turn away."

  Rising, Connor started to say something then stopped and shook his head. His good-bye was brief and terse. Arie sat and stared at the door for long after he left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  As soon as they arrived at River Rest the next morning, it became obvious that Grumpa might have something to worry about. Once again, Viv snagged the seat next to his, this time displacing Belinda and causing a general feeling of agitation as the usual seating arrangement was disrupted. Carly hadn't yet announced the day's activity, either, which left the group plenty of time to gossip or, in Viv's case, flirt.

  Arie worked at avoiding Grumpa's eyes, the expression in them alternating between abject pleading and glaring accusation. As she scanned the room, she caught sight of Cindy arriving for her shift. The young nurse stopped to say good morning to Karen, who was preparing the morning snack. Karen sneered and walked away from her without a word, hea
ding for Jane Clarkson's office. She knocked then poked her head inside. Whatever she said to the center director caused the woman to respond immediately.

  In fact, the director left her office so abruptly that she left her cane behind. Walking briskly over to Cindy, she spoke in a low murmur. Cindy's face paled, and her mouth dropped open.

  "Fired? But why?"

  Jane's eyes narrowed. "Fine. If you want to do this here, we will. You didn't show up for your shift yesterday. You've been late on several occasions—"

  "Only when Kylie was sick. I called every time. I had to take her to urgent care. And Karen—"

  "Don't interrupt me!" Jane actually stamped her foot on the floor, causing several of the women at Arie's table to gasp. "I'm sick of your disrespect, and I won't tolerate it."

  "Disrespect? Jane, what are you talking about? I never—"

  "Ms. Clarkson, if you please!" Unfortunately, in her anger, the director slurred over the S sound in her name.

  Behind her back, Karen clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling.

  Cindy held up both palms. "I do respect you, and I didn't just blow off my shift. Karen agreed to cover it."

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Karen said. "I told you I couldn't."

  "You're a liar! You said, 'No problem,' that you wanted the extra money so you could—"

  Karen shook her head in disgust then turned to Jane. "I'm done here. I don't want to deal with all this drama."

  "Of course you don't," Jane said. "Go back to your duties."

  Despite her protestation, Karen didn't move.

  "Jane, listen, please," Cindy tried again. "I did ask Karen, and she—"

  "Enough," Jane made a chopping motion with one hand, and her slight body swayed a bit. "Covering your shifts is your responsibility. And if you were planning to switch, then you should have cleared it with me anyway. Obviously, you didn't."

  "Nobody ever does that," Cindy said. "You've never minded before. And Karen said—"

  "I did not!” Karen declared. “I had a doctor's appointment. There's no way I would have agreed to that."

  "Cindy, I said that's enough. There's no point in arguing about this any longer. Gather your things, and make sure you turn your keys in. If you want to dispute this, you can check in with HR. But for now, go."