by January Bain
“I need to see her.” I pushed past Tulip and hurried to the back of the RV, thrusting aside the white curtain. Star sat slumped on a reclining chair, a middle-aged woman dressed in powder-blue scrubs attending her. They both looked up, tears filling my sister’s eyes when she caught sight of me.
I leaned down and hugged her tight, pressing my forehead against hers. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” I whispered. “If you’d gotten yourself killed, I’d never have forgiven you, you little squirt.”
“Yeah, I’m okay. He didn’t hurt me. I’m just a little shook up.” She shuddered.
“And you are?” the woman asked in a professional manner.
“Her sister Charm.” I glanced up at her, noting the slight surprise. I got it—we look nothing alike. “I’m the mismatched triplet.”
“You’re triplets. That’s rare,” she said. “I’m Violet, by the way.”
I nodded. “Nice to meet you. How’s my sister doing?”
“She’s going to be fine. I just gave her a mild sedative to relax her. A good night’s sleep should set her right.”
I reached out and grabbed Star’s hand. Her ice-cold fingers trembled slightly. I had to see for myself what she had undergone.
“What happened?” I asked. “I need to know. Let me be you—show me.” Being triplets, when we chose, we could connect in weird ways. Something I was most grateful for at the moment.
We both closed our eyes and I received a vision of Howard Smith lurching toward me, reaching out with one hand to stop me from leaving his trailer, his eyes dark with lust. Fearful, I stumbled backward and felt a sharp sting on the back of my neck. He got hold of my necklace, tore it from my body. He fell to the floor in a heap, moaning. I fled, tearing down the RV’s steps and hitting the ground running, scared out of my wits.
“You didn’t touch him,” I said when we both opened our eyes.
She shook her head. “No. He was still alive when I hauled butt out of there.”
“What are you doing?” Violet asked, frowning.
“Just checking on what happened to my sister. How much later until he was found dead?”
Star slowly shook her head. “Not exactly sure, but not long. I ran into Tulip and she spent a bit of time calming me down, then we heard someone screaming, saying someone was dead—”
“What are you, psychic or something?” Violet interrupted us, her head cocked sideways and her gaze intent.
“A little, maybe.” I shrugged it off. “Can I take her home now?”
“There’s a Mountie wanting to speak with her.” The nurse gave me a look of sympathy.
“Surely you can tell them that it would be better for my sister to wait till morning?”
The sounds of solid footfalls approaching inside the RV did not bode well. Even before I turned around, I knew. Constable Ace Collins, large as life, big as a mountain and intense as all get-out, stood staring down at us, his expression stoic.
“I would like to speak with Star alone.”
Star’s eyes took on that wild-eyed look she got when she was feeling cornered. She silently pleaded with me, mouthing the words, “Help me.”
“Constable Collins, I’m taking my sister home now. Arrest me if you want, but I’m not leaving her side.”
“Charm—”
Star got up suddenly and pushed past both of us, sending me reeling against a small table covered with implements. It clattered against the wall, its cargo strewn. I lurched into Ace. He reached out and supported me in his strong arms, keeping me from falling to the floor. I glanced at the nurse who appeared stunned, frozen in place.
“Star!” I called out, trying to twist away from Ace in an effort to catch up with my sister. He let me go and I raced down the aisle of the RV, my feet thudding noisily on the floor. I bypassed Tulip and clamored down the steps, Star already ten feet ahead of me. Oh no! She wasn’t running on the ground away from us—she was literally hovering at least two feet above the ground, as if cushioned by air currents, making her appear to be flying. A small group of people had assembled since we had been inside the nurse’s station and they were staring with open mouths, some talking and pointing. Please, please don’t let anyone be capturing this on camera.
“Star, it’s okay! Stop!” I screamed, trying to get her attention before it was too late. She dropped to the ground, her knees bending to absorb the impact, turned and looked toward me. Her horrified expression sent my heart jumping and skittering, trying to run for cover with no place to hide. And there was no place to hide—I caught the glimmer of an iPhone screen, its owner busy filming the moment for posterity.
Chapter Six
I thundered by the animated group, their voices raised in disbelief and their faces aghast at what they had just witnessed. I grabbed hold of Star, hugging her tightly. “It’s going to be okay, kiddo, no one’s going to harm you. I’ve got you.”
My sister had a terrible fear of confined spaces—a by-product of her first eight years on the planet—and the thought of being hauled off to prison had panicked her. I held on to her until the trembling ceased. I understood. My own phobia rivaled hers. With good reason. We’d both spent hours locked in cupboards.
Footsteps approaching making me spin around. The Mountie was grimacing, looking at me with concern. “She okay?”
“Yeah, no thanks to you. Questioning her like she’s guilty? She had nothing to do with this thing! That guy must have had a dozen enemies, embezzling funds like he did. He’s even related to that Mafia guy, Guido Morello. Did you know he was married to Morello’s cousin?” I forced myself to think. “And what about that poison expert on set? Star said he was acting drugged, pawing at her.” I shook my head with disgust at the horrible image. “Maybe that’s what killed Howard? He was given a fatal dose of something.”
“No, that might have incapacitated him, but it’s more than that, Charm. His head was bashed in with blunt force trauma.”
My throat went dry, my field of vision narrowing. To Hades with this. “When Star left the scene, Howard Smith was alive. I know that absolutely for certain, Ace.”
“I still need to take Star in for questioning. She might know something useful.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
“Fine.”
I took Star’s hand in mine, and we walked proudly through the crowd of people who were now pointing and staring at us as if we were a freak show. Yellow police line tape flickered in the breeze, drawing my attention to a trailer roped off with meters of the plastic stuff, Crime Scene spelled out in bold black lettering over and over. The image made me angry, furious all over again that my sister had been attacked by that scumbag. Even his death didn’t excuse him. Captain Winn Duffy, conversing with another, taller man who appeared to have a human shadow attached in the form of an assistant, drew my attention. The captain stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of us, halting the progress of all three men.
“Constable,” he said evenly, giving Star and I a polite nod of greeting. “I’d like you to meet the director of the picture, Dan Carter, and his assistant, Bryce Stanford.”
Good. Handshakes forthcoming. I paid close attention while waiting my turn, holding my arm out to shake the director’s first. Dan’s reading was pretty straightforward. He was concerned for Howard Smith and his family, and worried about how this would affect his production. Bryce ignored the handshaking, not offering his to anyone present. Germaphobe? Guilty? I desperately wanted a reading on the guy, but I could hardly jump on his back to take one.
A bystander beckoned at Bryce to get his attention and he moved away. Less than thirty seconds later, he was back, whispering in the director’s ear. I watched, frowning as the director’s gaze moved over to check out Star, a strange look crossing his face. Bryce thrust a cell phone into the man’s hands, sliding his fingers around the screen as if to show him something. I caught the meaning of the interaction, my body tying itself in tight knots. This was bad.
“How the heck—” Dan Carter
scratched his scalp under his salt and pepper hair. His mane was slightly on the long side, lying thickly over his red plaid shirt collar. He’d rolled up his shirtsleeves and wore tan trousers with sturdy cowhide work boots, laced up properly. He fit right in. Bryce, on the other hand, was dressed fastidiously, his dark hair recently trimmed to perfection, and wearing a peacock-blue shirt with white buttons accompanied by a darker blue paisley vest. His feet were proudly encased in soft Italian leather oxfords that looked as if they’d cost the GNP of a small country. But the coup de grâce was the walking stick he favored. Exquisitely carved. Of course, it might be the most useful thing he had, good for fending off wildlife.
“How is that even possible?” Dan asked, his question accompanied by a bewildered look.
“It’s not my fault, any of this!” Star pointed at Ace, then crossed her arms over her chest. “If you hadn’t insisted on taking me to the detachment, I never would have made such a dumb mistake. You’re the one at fault, Constable.”
“Now, it’s no one’s fault, Star. Constable Collins is just doing his job. That’s why we pay him the big bucks,” Captain Duffy said in a joking manner. He’d always had the reputation of being the most level-headed man in Snowy Lake. “Show me,” he said to the assistant.
He accepted the phone in his big beefy hands and rewound the video with a thumb that half covered the screen, taking a few seconds to preview the footage. Dressed in his RCMP uniform, he made a powerful image, likely choosing to be amiable to make up for how scary he would look if provoked. I’d only heard rumors about the one time he’d lost his temper when a drug dealer had crashed his SUV into the detachment’s front foyer after a dangerous chase through town that had ended up causing thousands of dollars’ worth of damage to the police building. Entirely justified.
It was then I realized that Ace must have seen Star’s display when he followed us at such a fast clip out of the nurse’s station, and yet had not made a big deal of it. Classy.
“My sister was just pulling a Saint Joseph of Cupertino stunt,” I joked. Okay, lame. Maybe I should have gone with a magician or that nun who loved to fly? A golden oldie Granny Toogood enjoyed on occasion. Of course, Auntie T.J. wouldn’t allow herself to be caught dead watching it. Far too tame for our feisty aunt.
“Saint Joseph? Sorry, don’t get the reference,” Captain Duffy said, his expression puzzled. Now four pairs of eyes studied me like I’d lost my last marble.
“You know, that guy from the seventeenth century. Say, sis, this ability is going to be awesome for dusting hard to reach places and flicking cobwebs from ceiling rafters,” I quipped, managing to push myself deeper in the sucking quagmire in trying to stay right away from the harsh reality that this was a game changer. A scary game changer.
“Could you keep a lid on this thing for a while? You know, keep the video from going viral?” I asked, desperation causing bile to rise in my throat. I got the distinct impression that two chances existed, slim and none—and slim had left town. But I had to try.
Director Dan frowned. “Sorry, but there’s not even the slightest hope of reining this in. It’s already been posted. Look.” He held out his phone he’d slipped from his pocket, the YouTube video reading five hundred and six views. The numbers changed, clicking ominously upward even while we all peered at the tiny screen. The title under the video read—Levitating girl tries to outwit Mountie. Huh, now cell phone service improved.
I glanced at Ace. He shook his head, his expression grim.
“Can you do that on demand, Star?” Dan asked, his intense eyes thoughtful.
“Do what?” Star asked, turning her attention to her new boss.
“Levitate like in the video?”
She shrugged. “Maybe. It’s kind of a recent development and it’s still a bit hit and miss.”
“If you would all excuse us, I need to be taking Miss McCall in for questioning,” Ace said, his expression pinched, his brown eyes concerned. He was no happier about the situation than I was, but it didn’t stop me from objecting. Strenuously.
“No! Star needs to rest. She’s exhausted from everything going on,” I hissed.
“It’s okay, Charm.” She put her slender fingers on my arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I can handle this. I’ve got nothing to hide. Unlike the murderer.”
The silence that surrounded us as we continued the walk of annoyance to Ace’s vehicle was deafening. I put my arm around Star’s slender waist, supporting her if just figuratively. She was handling this better than I’d expected.
Our Queen’s own escort opened the back door of the cruiser, standing like a sentinel at the rear of the RCMP vehicle. He waited for us to climb in and closed it behind us. I scooted in beside my sister, catching a whiff of disinfectant unsuccessfully trying to mask the alluring odor of raw skunk.
“What the heck happened in here?” I asked, pinching my nostrils together.
Ace turned the key in the ignition. “Don’t ask.”
“Aha, I’ll bet Tommy and his partner went night hunting again. Right?” Tommy’s dog, Slayer, had the uncanny ability to sniff out a skunk within ten miles. Thinks it’s his duty to have his pack leader do something about it. ASAP. So, Tommy had been sprayed more times then I could remember, ending up in jail when caught red-handed at the activity. Night hunting was illegal for good reason—it was unsafe.
“It’s going to be fine, Charm,” Star said, bringing my mind reeling back to our present dilemma. Was she trying to reassure me or herself?
“Of course, it is.” I squeezed her hand. I was more worried about the video of her levitating than anything else. What to do about the incriminating evidence? I needed to figure a way to squash it before the entire world descended on Snowy Lake, upending our preferred-to-be-left-the-heck-aloneness. Yes. An idea popped into my head, bringing a grin to my face. The modern world was going to make this so easy. All I had to do was to add a statement under the video.
No, the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup is not being discontinued. No, Earth will not be plunged into darkness for fifteen days. And NO, Star McCall did not levitate. Ever hear of Photoshop? Or getting some free publicity? Get a life, people.
Star’s cell phone gave a long purring sound, reminding me of baby Ling Ling. She answered it after glancing at the number.
“Really? Yes, sure, I can do that!”
She pushed End on the phone, her eyes round and filled with wonder when she gazed over at me.
“What is it?”
“The director just expanded my part. Big time! I’m going to have a major role in the movie, Charm. Can you believe that?”
“Yeah,” I sputtered. No surprise there. And though it would mean I’d see even less of my sister than usual, I was happy for her. If only a movie would come to town every year, minus any murders, it would work out perfectly. Star would have no need to head to LA. But the odds of that, not so good. Unless we began our own production company and I couldn’t imagine how many cookies and chocolate slices such a venture would cost. I’d probably have to make enough to ring around the equator a time or two. I loved to bake, but there was a limit.
I gave her a quick hug. “That’s great. I imagine he wants to take advantage of your unique talent?”
“Yeah, I guess so. He didn’t say that exactly.” She frowned. I wasn’t sure if the idea of the director wanting her only for her gift bothered her or if the idea of actually having it filmed for posterity was the problem.
“Won’t matter. People will just assume it’s special effects. Like in the Superman movies. And everyone knows how talented you are. They’re lucky to have you. Wow, I’m happy for you, sis.”
“Thanks.”
“Now take me to jail,” I quipped at Ace like the character Henry Hill in the Scorsese movie, assuming only I would get the reference.
“Did you really just Goodfellas me?” Ace asked, outrage coloring his voice.
“Did you really just use Goodfellas as a verb?” I countered, entertained in spite
of my concerns about what was happening in our small town—again.
I caught Ace’s gaze in the rear-view mirror, his soulful brown eyes about doing me in. My whole body tingled at the connection. Darn it, why did this guy have to have it all? Brains and brawn and to-die-for looks? And yet annoy me to no end with his insistence that I stayed out of things like murder investigations when they affected our town? How was I supposed to do that when so much was at stake?
Chapter Seven
Ace jerked the police vehicle into gear, gunned the motor and off we sped. Star glanced at her phone when it purred again. “James says that special item you wanted his brother Alex to make is ready. What special item?”
“Nothing.” I said, pleased it was ready so soon considering it had only been a few hours. “A surprise.” I grinned at just how surprised a certain Mountie was going to be.
The SUV bumped along dusty roads before we hit Main Street. Ace made a right turn at the Clip Joint—the business next to ours—then pulled into the curved driveway in front of the detachment. The low-slung building that housed the RCMP featured a high metal pole out front with our red and white Canadian maple leaf flag proudly flapping in the breeze near the top. It was customary for private citizens to leave bouquets of flowers around the cement base when an officer was killed in the line of duty. When a man died doing his job and trying to protect the rest of us, it broke our collective hearts.
I fumed, waiting for Ace to come around and open the vehicle’s door from the outside, the backseat not being a comfortable place to sit. Hard vinyl plastic and not enough leg room were spectacularly unenhanced by the odor of skunk.
