by Nic Saint
The door creaked open and a woman appeared. There was a smudge of blood on her cheek and her eyes were a little wild, but she still looked as stunningly beautiful as ever.
“Oh, Virgil,” she said, throwing her arms around him. “I thought you’d never show.”
Chapter Two
A black beetle walked across Alice Whitehouse’s face. She could tell it was a beetle from the tiny little beetle feet tickling her cheek. Instantly awake, she threw back the covers with a mighty scream and kept on screaming even as she thrashed about, trying to remove the horrible bug from her face.
Immediately her housemates flocked to: Felicity, rushing in from the bedroom next door, along with Rick. Who didn’t flock to was her bedmate, and when she looked over, she saw that he wasn’t even there!
“What’s going on?!” cried Fee.
“Yeah, what’s with all the noise?” asked Rick, rubbing his stubbled cheek with a look of annoyance.
“There was something crawling on my face!” Alice cried, searching around frantically.
“What?” Fee squeaked. Like Alice, she didn’t enjoy creepy crawlies invading her private space, especially when she was sleeping. “What was it? A spider? A mouse? A RAT?!”
“I think it was a black beetle,” said Alice, now checking the comforter, which had fluttered to the floor. Fee picked up her pillow and started slapping it against the wall.
“You were probably dreaming,” said Rick, ever the skeptic. Rick was a reporter. Being a skeptic came with the territory.
“I got him!” suddenly screamed Fee. “Kill him, Rick! Kill him!”
Rick turned to look, as did Alice. In plain view, right in the middle of Alice’s Alice in Wonderland carpet, sat a black beetle of minute size. Still, it looked pretty horrible to Alice.
“No! Don’t kill it!” she said even as Rick started to remove his slipper. “My carpet,” she explained. “It’s going to leave a stain. Besides... It’s not right to kill the poor creature. He can’t help it if he wandered into the wrong bedroom and onto the wrong face.”
Or the right one if her act of benevolence was to be taken into consideration.
“Why don’t you scoop him up in a little jar and put him outside, Rick?”
“If I put him outside he will simply come back in and then tomorrow night he’ll be on my face,” said Rick. “Or yours,” he said, gesturing with his head to his girlfriend.
Fee shook her head violently, her mass of red curls dangling. “I don’t want him on my face. I can’t have weird bugs on my face, Rick—do something!”
“He’s not a weird bug,” said Rick. “He’s just a little beetle. Nothing weird about it.”
“He’s not little—he’s huge!” said Fee.
“He’s not huge. I’ve seen bigger beetles.”
“He’s horrible! Get rid of him—humanely,” she added for Alice’s sake.
“All right, all right. I’ll put him in the backyard. He might like it so much he won’t return to the scene of his most heinous crime of crawling all over Alice’s face.”
Alice shivered, but managed to say, “Thank you, Rick. You’re the best.” Speaking of the best, she wondered where her boyfriend was. “Where is Rock?” she now asked.
“Rock?” asked Fee with a frown. “Who’s Rock?”
“You mean Reece,” said Rick, searching around for a receptacle with which he could carry out his act of mercy.
Alice squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. “Um...” She vividly recalled her dream—as vividly as if it was real. Her boyfriend Reece Hudson, the hunky movie star, had fallen madly in love with Angelina Jolie and had dumped Alice. Not a tragedy, for she’d met an equally hunky male, a cop this time, working for her dad, and had happily dated him while solving crime in Happy Bays as the head of the Happy Bays Neighborhood Watch.
“Alice?” asked Fee. “Are you all right, honey?”
“It’s the beetle,” said Rick. “It gave her a big scare.”
“I’m fine,” said Alice. Or was she? That dream had seemed so real…
She became aware of water running in the bathroom, then being turned off.
A loud singing voice now intruded on the homey scene in the bedroom.
“Shake it off—shake it off,” the baritone sang slightly out of tune.
The three people present turned to the door when the singing grew louder. And then Reece strode in, a towel casually slung around his waist, water droplets clinging to his manly chest. He smiled broadly. “Hey, you guys. Got a little party going on in here, huh?”
A lifting sensation caught Alice by surprise. She actually teared up a little.
“Oh, Reece,” she said.
Reece came over and wiped away a tear. “Hey, hey,” he said. “What’s the matter? Whatever it is, don’t you worry about a thing. Reece is here to make it all better.”
“I dreamed we broke up,” she said, a slight lump in her throat.
“Broke up? Never.”
“Yeah, we broke up when you fell in love with Angelina Jolie and then I got involved with a local cop.”
“You got involved with Virgil?”
“No, his name wasn’t Virgil. It was Rock… something.” The dream was fading fast.
“Never heard of him,” said Reece. He turned to Fee. “Who is this Rock dude?”
“No idea,” said Fee with a shrug.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Alice with a smile, placing her hands on Reece’s chest. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
“Back? I was never gone,” said Reece. “And as far as Angelina Jolie is concerned, she can’t hold a candle to you—my precious ladybug.”
She smiled through her tears. “Ladybug. Now there’s a beetle I like.”
Rick cleared his throat. “So do you want me to catch your black beetle or not?”
Reece cocked an eyebrow at the beetle. It must have been the sheer power of the actor’s personality, for the offending little bug suddenly spread its wings, took flight, and zoomed straight out of the window!
Reece grinned and spread his arms. “Hot potato!”
Chapter Three
Deanna looked as beautiful as Virgil remembered. She still had that gorgeous face with those high cheekbones, perfect bone structure, full lips, large eyes and perfectly coiffed blond hair. When he stepped into the house, following her into the living room, his heart skipped a beat—or maybe even two or three beats—and it was as if he was transported back to the moment he’d met her for the first time, as a cadet at police academy where she’d been his instructor.
Even then she’d been fully aware of her fatal allure and had done little to mitigate the impact of her shapeliness on her hormonal pupils. Virgil had been but one of many admirers, and he’d never even been aware that she’d been aware of him until that auspicious night in the swamp. The recruits called it the hellhole, because of the millions of mosquitoes that seemed to labor under the misapprehension that they were in charge, and that the cadets bused in for their nocturnal training were simply food items on the menu.
The recruits had been induced to crawl through the undergrowth in an exercise aimed at teaching subterfuge, camouflage and the skill of sneaking up on a suspect unseen and unheard. Virgil had quickly been both seen and heard, and by Deanna Kohl herself no less. He’d seen her first—or that’s what he’d thought at the time—and had lain perfectly still. Finally, after a tense few minutes, Deanna had crouched down next to him.
“Scattering. I saw you five minutes ago. What the hell are you waiting for?”
“I, um, I thought I’d, um, stick around,” had been his eloquent response. It had elicited a tinkling laugh from the instructor, and she’d patted his head affectionately, not unlike one would a favorite puppy.
“I like you, Scattering. You may not be police academy material, but you’re funny. Now go and get your donut and hot cocoa and report back to HQ on the double.”
“But…”
“The games are over for you, sonny boy. Now get.
”
And that had been the end of that. He’d later fantasized about spending a few more minutes chatting with Deanna Kohl in that undergrowth, imagining what could have been, but even then his self-esteem hadn’t been all that much to write home about, and Deanna most definitely was way out of his league. So much so she inhabited a different universe.
He entered the living room and Deanna stepped aside, a thoughtful look on her face as she studied Virgil.
On the floor, spread out across the rug, lay the body of a large man. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a hairy barrel chest and protruding belly, and there was a hatchet buried in his throat, and a whole lot of blood pooled around his head.
Virgil swallowed. “He looks dead,” he said.
“Your powers of observation are unparalleled,” said Deanna. “Yes, he’s dead.”
“Did-did you do this?”
Deanna nodded slowly. “I could lie and tell you I didn’t—but what’s the use?”
“Who is he?”
“Who cares?”
“He kinda looks familiar.”
He stared at the man for a moment, but a wave of nausea made him look away.
She extracted a pack of cigarettes from the recesses of her dress, and offered him one.
“No, thanks,” he declined.
She shrugged and lit up. “It was an accident, of course.”
Virgil sighed. “I don’t know why you called me, Deanna,” he said, even though he knew perfectly well why she’d called him.
She laughed a dry laugh, and flicked her ashes to the floor, hitting the dead man.
“Please don’t do that,” he said. “You’re messing up the crime scene.”
“And we’re going to mess it up a lot more,” she announced.
He gave her a look of surprise. “What?”
“You and I are going to dump this body where no one will ever find it, and then we’re going to wipe this room clean. We’re going to scrub and scrub until the last remnant of DNA of both him and me is gone forever. And do you know why we’re going to do that, Virgil?”
He gulped. He had a pretty good idea. Still he asked, “Why?”
She smiled that infectious smile that had made his heart beat a little faster when he’d seen her answer the door just now. “Because you owe me.”
He sagged down onto a chair, draping his boneless limbs across the piece of rickety furniture like a damp rag. “Yes, I do,” he admitted. And now he was going to pay. Big time.
Start Reading A Game of Dons Now
About Nic
Nic Saint is the pen name for writing couple Nick and Nicole Saint. They’ve penned novels in the romance, cat sleuth, middle grade, suspense, comedy and cozy mystery genres. Nicole has a background in accounting and Nick in political science and before being struck by the writing bug the Saints worked odd jobs around the world (including massage therapist in Mexico, gardener in Italy, restaurant manager in India, and Berlitz teacher in Belgium).
When they’re not writing they enjoy Christmas-themed Hallmark movies (whether it’s Christmas or not), all manner of pastry, comic books, a daily dose of yoga (to limber up those limbs), and spoiling their big red tomcat Tommy.
www.nicsaint.com
Also by Nic Saint
The Mysteries of Max
Purrfect Murder
Purrfectly Deadly
Purrfect Revenge
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
Purrfect Heat
Purrfect Crime
Purrfect Rivalry
Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)
Purrfect Peril
Purrfect Secret
Purrfect Alibi
Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)
Purrfect Obsession
Purrfect Betrayal
Purrfectly Clueless
Nora Steel
Murder Retreat
The Kellys
Murder Motel
Death in Suburbia
Emily Stone
Murder at the Art Class
Washington & Jefferson
First Shot
Alice Whitehouse
Spooky Times
Spooky Trills
Spooky End
Spooky Spells
Ghosts of London
Between a Ghost and a Spooky Place
Public Ghost Number One
Ghost Save the Queen
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
A Tale of Two Harrys
Ghost of Girlband Past
Ghostlier Things
Charleneland
Deadly Ride
Final Ride
Neighborhood Witch Committee
Witchy Start
Witchy Worries
Witchy Wishes
Saffron Diffley
Crime and Retribution
Vice and Verdict
The B-Team
Once Upon a Spy
Tate-à-Tate
Enemy of the Tates
Ghosts vs. Spies
The Ghost Who Came in from the Cold
Witchy Fingers
Witchy Trouble
Witchy Hexations
Witchy Possessions
Witchy Riches
Box Set 1 (Books 1-4)
The Mysteries of Bell & Whitehouse
One Spoonful of Trouble
Two Scoops of Murder
Three Shots of Disaster
Box Set 1 (Books 1-3)
A Twist of Wraith
A Touch of Ghost
A Clash of Spooks
Box Set 2 (Books 4-6)
The Stuffing of Nightmares
A Breath of Dead Air
An Act of Hodd
Box Set 3 (Books 7-9)
A Game of Dons
Standalone Novels
When in Bruges
The Whiskered Spy
ThrillFix
Homejacking
The Eighth Billionaire
The Wrong Woman
Short Stories
Felonies and Penalties (Saffron Diffley Short 1)
Purrfect Santa (Mysteries of Max Short 1)
Purrfect Christmas Mystery (Mysteries of Max Short 2)
Purrfect Christmas Miracle (Mysteries of Max Short 3)
Purrfectly Flealess (Mysteries of Max Short 4)
Copyright © 2019 by Nic Saint. All rights reserved.
Published by Puss in Print Publications.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Editor: Chereese Graves.
