by January Bain
“You think about it. We could make a good team doing things the official way. I should be going now,” he said. Disappointment filled me that he had given up so easily. Surely another bribe was in order?
“Ah, yeah, I need to get to bed, too.” Bed. Why mention that place? A part of me wanted to drag him by the hand up the staircase and see just where that would lead, while another part, a far smarter part, was horrified. And what if you lose your goddess-given gifts, sweeting? Granny Toogood’s voice filled my mind, settling the matter. Nothing like thinking of my granny to cool the ardor. Besides, there had been no definite sign that he was ‘The One’. But what did I expect to happen? Some otherworldly voice intervening and giving the go-ahead? Life is never that easy or clear-cut. I had to take this in little tiny baby steps, even though my body was giving the green light to head right on past third base and slide into home plate. I licked my lips. Baseball had never sounded so sexy or hot to me before.
He stepped back and a space opened between us, helping to halt the insanity.
“Sleep well, darlin’.”
“You know I will,” I said, adding a grin to make sure he would be uncertain of how much his mere physical presence influenced me. Thank goodness he couldn’t read visions. He’d be encouraged all the more and we’d be upstairs in a flash. That was, if I still had an upstairs available with Ivana working so hard to give it away.
“Oh, that reminds me, my parents are coming for a visit this weekend. If you’re free Saturday night, I’d like you to join us for dinner.”
“Who else will be there?” I asked, though disappointment filled me that I had a wedding to attend I couldn’t dare skip. Not unless I wanted to be skinned alive by Melody and Mick, the bride and groom, not to mention the wedding party consisting of a slew of Northern Lights Coven members. Thank goodness the stag and shower had been last week, or that would tie up another night.
I glanced at Ace when he didn’t respond right away. Was that a blush? So, She Who Would Not Be Named would be there. Now I was plenty annoyed that I couldn’t attend.
“Jennifer Morgan’s an old family friend. If you’d give her a chance, I think you’d like her.”
I pasted an innocent look on my face. “What makes you think I don’t like her? I’ve been nothing but nice to her, even offering free treats. But I’m sorry, I’ll have to take a rain check. I have a wedding to attend on Saturday night.” Was that a hint of disappointment reflected in his eyes?
He shrugged. “She thinks you might misconstrue things. You know, think that our going back so far makes you uncomfortable. She wanted me to say that she’d like for the two of you to become friends.”
“Take it from me, nothing she could say or do would affect anything I already know about her. And I already have more friends than I can keep up with. But I do wish her well.”
He frowned, as if trying to decipher my words but not finding anything wrong with them. Good. I had Jennifer’s number. Six, six, six.
“As you wish…”
“Did you just Princess Bride me?” I held back the laughter. Okay, fair recompense for the Goodfellas quote.
“Did you just use Princess Bride as a verb?” A grin flashed on his handsome mug. Oh my. When he was filled with such glee, he looked ten years younger, the stern Mountie façade melting clear away. The image tugged at me.
“Good night, Ace.”
“Good night, darlin’.”
I watched him saunter from the kitchen, knowing the spring in his step was my doing.
I glanced around the kitchen. What was left to do? Nothing that couldn’t wait till morning. And so, to bed. I climbed the stairs with a light step, looking forward to time alone to savor the recent conversation. Please, please, let Ivana be asleep. I slowed down, creeping on tiptoe by her door, not wanting another altercation.
Her suite door flew wide open. “Ah, Charm. We talk.”
“Could this wait? I’m exhausted.”
She crossed her arms over her spectacular breasts, a pout beginning on her full lips with their perfect coating of femme fatale lipstick. “No time for best friend?”
I pasted a bright smile on my face. Best to get it over with. “Sure. I have a couple of minutes. Then I must get to bed, I have an early morning.”
“I got boarder to bring in money for friend.”
I held back a groan. “Really? When and who?” No point in asking the why. Ivana always did what she wanted.
“Lady. Makes wolf faces.” She wrinkled her nose at the idea.
A lightbulb moment. “Right. The special effects person who applies silicone appliances and makeup and dresses people to look like wolves.”
“What I say.” Ivana was all indignant that I’d just repeated her information in a coherent manner.
“Yes, of course. When is she scheduled to start staying with us?” Please, not tonight.
She made a face. “Not today. Foolish.”
I tried not to look too relieved. “Yes, very. Tomorrow?”
“Yes. She come tomorrow.”
“And what shall I call this person? Does she have a name?”
Ivana narrowed her eyes, giving me a glimpse of her former life in Russia. “Miss Regina is title. She hates murder. We should ask others to come. Live here. Be safe.”
“No! Please, there’s no room!” I was so horrified I forgot myself for a second. I could only envision rows and rows of cots and bunks set up in every available nook and cranny. I leaned against her doorframe to keep myself upright, my knees refusing to function.
“Money.” She rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in the universal gesture.
“No more money necessary.” I shook my head so firmly I gave myself an instant concussion. “I’m going to make lots doing the new catering job for the movie set.”
“Yes?” Her expression changed again. “No more money? Ah, maybe I not pay now? Get—what you say in Canada—commission?”
“Yes, fine. You don’t have to pay if, and only if, you don’t invite anyone else to stay here. You understand? In fact, you cancel Miss Regina’s contract for my suite, and I’ll pay you, say, fifty dollars a month on top of your free room and board.” Certifiable. That’s me. But when negotiating with Ivana I was more than used to getting the Russian end of the stick.
“Nice.” A huge smile lit up her gorgeous face. “I take care of her.”
Some feeling came back into my legs as a little of the stress drained and I pushed away from her doorjamb. Wait. On second thoughts, I’d better clarify or the movie might be minus one special effects person. “Ah, you will be kind when you explain things to Miss Regina? Let her down gently?”
She pounded her hand into her chest in the general location of her heart. “Ivana make Charm promise. Miss Regina gone.”
“I don’t literally want her gone.”
She shook her head, obviously not getting my meaning.
“Not gone, okay?”
“Not gone?” Now she looked confused.
“Still at movie set. I want her to be able to keep working. Just not living with us, but living. Alive, not dead. You understand?”
“Hmm. Okay. Ivana gets it.”
Jeez. Just in case, I’d better send out a protection spell to help the unsuspecting woman. “Good night, Ivana.”
“Good night, my friend.” She tugged me to her and double-kissed both cheeks. I was so relieved that we’d straightened things out that I did the same back with extra enthusiasm.
Like we were about to be separated for years and years, she gave me a lengthy farewell in the form of long ongoing hand waves and multiple air kisses until I’d shut my apartment door behind me. I took a deep breath and tugged off my shoes. I walked straight to the bedroom and face-planted on my bed, too exhausted to bother doing one more thing. Of course, things never worked out as planned.
Chapter Nine
Morning came too early. I’d spent most of the night tossing and turning, worried about Granny and how the doctor had insi
sted she take time off from working at the café and put up her feet with their swollen ankles. Then I’d stewed about the exasperating Mountie situation. What exactly was going on between us? I crawled off my bed at first light, wishing I could ask our librarian Miriam for a useful book on male–female relationships that didn’t make me roll my eyes in exasperation. Really, was all that compromise so often suggested by the authors who wrote those books going to help a situation where a person had to find their true mate? Not freakin’ likely.
I stumbled into the bathroom and hit the shower. Three cups of scalding-hot black coffee and I was back to functioning. I took the stairs down to the kitchen two at a time, my caffeine buzz propelling me into fast-forward mode.
I had the second batch of the special cloverleaf buns already baking when James and Suzanna arrived at eight.
“Mornin’, guys.”
James gave a low whistle, checking out the counters. “Did you leave anything for us to do?”
I laughed, still high on the dark brew. “Don’t worry, lots of chores to go around. I wonder what the deal is on set? Do we need to bring our own portable tables?”
“I’ll check for you,” James said. He pulled a wrapped item out of his backpack. “And look, here you go. Alex says no charge if you’ll send me home with some of your famous death-by-chocolate slice.”
“Thanks.” I took the package from him, unwrapped it and ran my forefinger lovingly over the engraving. Slipping it in my pocket, I gave James a huge grin. “Tell him it looks good.”
“What do you want me to do first?” Suzanna asked, washing her hands then tying on an apron.
“Add the diced chicken to the Caesar salad trays, please, then start packaging up the buns. They can go into my Jeep first. Can we use your car as transport? Otherwise it’s going to be a few trips.”
“Sure.”
I decided then and there that Suzanna was goddess sent.
By ten-thirty, everything was set. Between the three vehicles—James also got the loan of his parents’ SUV—we’d managed to pack everything in. Convoy-style, we hit the road. Fortunately, we didn’t have to bring our own tables, or we’d have been tying those to the roof as well.
Bumping along the road, trying to keep the speed low without stalling Thor’s motor or raising a humungous cloud of dust, I went over everything we still needed to do. The first time is the hardest, I reassured myself, hoping tomorrow I’d be able to leave my antsy nerves at home. I packed close to the staging area for lunch to avoid lugging the trays of food any farther than necessary, then opened the back door of my Jeep.
“Well, well, if it isn’t our pretty little caterer.” The man attached to the smarmy tone confronted me, fingers locked in his belt loops. Guido Morello.
“I’m sorry about your brother-in-law,” I said, maneuvering a tray of food out of Thor and hefting it against my hip to support it for the short journey to the catering tent.
“Yeah, thanks.” He didn’t look that upset. Hmm. “Need my help?” he asked.
“I’m fine, thanks. My crew’s on it.”
“Anything you need, you don’t hesitate to ask. Guido’s always ready to be of service to such a pretty lady.”
“Good to know,” I said briskly, edging my way around him. “Do you mind?” His kind of ‘service’ was as helpful as a huge boulder blocking the path.
“Of course,” he said, moving a few millimeters to one side. I sighed and proceeded to brush past him. His overpowering cologne made my nose seize up, the fresh country air disappearing in an instant, replaced with a stuffiness I knew from long experience would last for hours.
He followed me, my self-appointed bodyguard, all the way to the catering tent, chatting me up. Guido was surprisingly easy to hear over the humming diesel generators housed in tractor-trailers lined up nearby, providing the camp with electricity. Had the camp managers also thought to hire Henry’s Honeywagon to empty the RV tanks? It would be a good contract, considering the amount of BS I was being subject to this morning, pun intended.
“A gal who looks like you can’t be too careful about who she hangs around with. You know what I’m sayin’, sweetheart? I’m a-gonna take a special interest in making sure you stay safe. That’s a promise. And Guido Morello never breaks a promise. There’s a murderer on the loose, you know?”
“Yes. I heard. But I think I’m perfectly fine in broad daylight. Don’t let me take up your time, Mr. Morello. You must have a lot on your plate.”
“Please, call me Guido. No need to stand on conventions here. On set, we’re just one big happy family.” Heavy footsteps crunching on gravel approached, drawing both our attention. Yes. Any interruption would be appreciated. Even the Grinch who stole Christmas would have gotten a handwritten thank-you note about then.
“Morning, Miss McCall.” Constable Ace Collins tipped his hat at me. “Guido.” So, no fonder of Gangster Guy than me.
“Morning, Sheriff,” I said, adding a cheeky grin over my nasally greeting, my nose still plugged. He repaid me with a twinkle of his brown eyes.
“It’s Constable, as you’re well aware. You’re sounding a bit stuffed up this morning, Miss McCall. You coming down with something?” he asked.
“I’m allergic to toxic levels of perfume, cologne and pollen, among other things,” I said, slanting my eyes with discretion toward the interloper and adding a slight grimace.
“Mr. Morello, if I may have a few minutes of your time,” Ace said. The polite wording was not phrased as a question.
“Sure, Sir.” A wolfish grin accompanied the man’s acceptance. Like he has a choice in the matter. Constable Ace Collins obviously followed the Mounties’ creed of ‘always get your man’. The RCMP had undertaken the obligation in the days of Sam Steele and the beginnings of the North West Mounted Police long before having been renamed the Royal Mounted Canadian Police. Hmm. Then why did I feel such a need to assist our almost-new Mountie? A question for another time.
“I’ll be back later, pretty lady. Don’t go anywhere, ya hear?” Guido loosed his parting shot, making the fine hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
It was Ace’s turn to grimace, the expression in his brown eyes changing to solid ice. Interesting.
The pair moved off, the big tall Mountie striding with all proper decorum and stiffness while the far shorter Boston gangster rolled along as if he was practicing to board a pirate ship. I went back to my job of setting up and sent a prayer to the universe that I would be able to find the opportunity I needed most today, a chance to slip into Howard’s trailer unseen.
My two helpers joined me and, before the appointed hour, a swarm of locusts of biblical proportions—aka the movie people and actors—descended on our enclave, cleaning us out of every scrap of food in no time flat. Shocking. And apparently it was first come, first served, with everyone reaching over and around each other, jostling—mostly amiably—while grabbing the greatest amount of food they could before scurrying away. Some even stuffed their pockets and others had brought their own plastic containers or shopping bags. What had I signed us up for?
“Has no one ever fed these people before?” I grumbled to no one in particular. Even my own sister had done a grab and run, promising to catch up later.
“That was weird, all right,” Suzanna said with a frown, busy piling up empty containers that barely needed washing, they’d been picked so clean.
“Well, I hope there was enough food? We brought plenty for a hundred and fifty people, for heaven’s sake.” I frowned at the forlorn carrot stick left on one tray, the only morsel in sight, expecting a mouse to hop up, nab it in its tiny paws and tear off with it.
“I think they’re trying to get two meals out of one. You know, save having to worry about supper later. I overheard some people talking about that being the plan,” James said.
“Well, I hope everyone’s eaten. There’s nothing left.” Hours and hours to prepare, and sixty seconds to vanish. Some feat. This set was working magic in more ways than just
the title and having my sister onboard. Well, it did leave time for a bit of sleuthing around before I got down to preparing another feast for the world’s hungriest crew.
“Okay, can you handle getting the trays back to the café? I want to look around a bit.”
“Sure, we’ll start on tomorrow’s lunch and help man the café,” Suzanna said. “Take all the time you need. We got this. Oh, by the way, my sister Nancy said she could come by and help, if you needed her?”
“Great idea.” That would free me to spend time on solving the case. We were stretched a tad thin at the moment between the catering contract and the café. “I think we’d better consider making ten percent more of everything for tomorrow.” I sighed. That would eat into profits, but I couldn’t live with myself if even one person went hungry.
I carried a load of trays to Suzanna’s cherry-red Mazda and piled them in the trunk. “Okay, that does it. I’ll be back soon.”
“No rush. We got this.”
“Thanks.”
Giving the pair a quick wave, I headed back into camp. Woman on a mission. Or was that PI? Nah, honorary RCMP officer better fit the bill. Now, if I could just get Ace to agree, we’d be all set. I stopped about twenty feet from Howard’s trailer. The police tape was still in evidence, the home on wheels forlorn and deserted-looking. Yes, please, stay like that. I reconnoitred the area, striding around my target until I had circled it. Twice. Two doors, situated one at each end of the thirty-foot RV. So, the murderer hadn’t exited that way or someone would have seen them. Time to test my theory.
I gave a look around—no one in sight. It was now or never. I crept up the short staircase, trying not to make any noise on the steel rungs. Soft-soled running shoes helped. Twisting the handle, I pulled the door open and slipped inside the darkened space, to shut the door quickly behind me. I let out a deep breath. So far, so good.
