Lucky and the Drowned Debutante

by Emmy Grace

  She’s winded when she finishes her rant. “Feel better?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “A little.”

  “PMS, huh?”

  “Like a beast,” she confirms with a groan. “I’m so bloated that if someone even breathes toward my belly, I’ll burst and go flying around the room like a deflating balloon.”

  “Well, your outfit camouflages that perfectly,” I declare with a resolute nod.

  “Really?” she asks, her expression hopeful.

  To me, Regina is easy to read and easy to redirect. And she’d probably say the same thing about me.

  Except when it comes to investigating murders.

  At that point, all bets are off.

  “Absolutely. You look really good, as a matter of fact.”

  She smiles now, wide and relieved. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. Thank me in two minutes.”

  “Why?”

  I raise my eyebrows a few times. “You’ll see.”

  I take her by the wrist and pull her with me to the room where I last saw Surly One and Surly Two. Regina and I stop in the doorway, and I explain in my best golf whisper, “That is Steven Locke, a.k.a. Marshal McGruff from the U.S. Marshal Service. I knew you’d physically hurt me if I didn’t at least let you look upon his grouchy gorgeousness.”

  I’m not sure Regina is paying my words much attention. She’s staring into the room, dumbstruck. Both men are facing us somewhat, but deeply embroiled in important conversation. Regina and I, on the other hand, are just gawking like the shallow women that we sometimes love to be.

  “Dear Lord in heaven, he’s beautiful.” Her voice is a wispy swoon.

  “And probably mean as a cornered snake. He’s like Liam’s twin.”

  “One for you and one for me,” she breathes, taking a step into the room. “Introduce me.”

  We walk slowly into the room. “Why do you think I asked you for a ride instead of letting Clive take me?”

  “Because you’re the best friend in the entire universe, that’s why.”

  “You’re exactly right, my young padawan.” When we’re within spitting distance of the two men and they still haven’t acknowledged us, I feign stubbing my toe, yowling loudly and grabbing my foot as I steady myself on Regina’s shoulder. “Oh, sweet Mary!” I exclaim.

  That draws Liam’s attention first. His head jerks toward me and his eyes are very much focused on me. Within a second and a half, his brows drop down into his signature frown.

  “What happened?” he asks, pulling away from Marshal McGruff to come toward me.

  I wave him back. “No reason to be concerned. Just stubbed my toe.”

  His eyes narrow on me, and I know instantly that he knows I’m up to no good. It’s all I can do to keep myself from grinning.

  “Stubbed your toe, huh? In those shoes? On level ground? Indoors?”

  His voice is dripping with doubt. And rightly so, of course, but that just makes it funnier to me.

  “I’m graceful like that,” I quip then clear my throat. “I just wanted to let you know that Regina came to give me a ride home. You’re clearly tied up and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Uh-huh,” he mutters suspiciously.

  “Unless you need something,” I add hopefully. I don’t care about Steven Locke, but I would like to be involved in whatever they’re doing. The suspense is killing me. I’ve roamed this house like a prowling mountain lion just waiting for the moment when Liam would see me and motion me over, then explain what’s going on. But dang it, he has yet to bend to my will. Possibly because he’s not a mind reader, but seriously, he must know that I’m dying over here.

  “What did you have in mind?” Liam tucks his arms over his chest and tilts his head. He may just have figured out what I’m about.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I just thought that if you two wanted to discuss the case any more, we could go to my house.” I move my gaze over to Steven Locke. “Oh, by the way, this is my friend Regina. Regina LaFayette. Regina, this is Fire Marshal Bill. I mean, U.S. Marshal Steven Locke.”

  Her lips don’t even twitch, but I see a dubious look roll over Steven Locke’s face, which makes me wonder if he understood that slam.

  He steps forward and offers his hand to Regina, which is more than he did for me. “Nice to meet you, Ms. LaFayette. I commend you for being this one’s keeper.” He tips his head toward me.

  My mouth drops open in shock. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  To my utter surprise, Marshal McGruff winks at Regina. I only get it from the side and I feel bedazzled, so my guess is that Regina has temporarily lost the ability to breathe. Possibly to see or speak as well. I’ll know for sure if she falls over in a few seconds from oxygen deprivation.

  Regina laughs playfully, taking his hand and shaking it slowly. “It’s like having a second job.”

  “I can see that,” he replies.

  “Wait, what is happening here?” I ask in bewilderment. “You don’t even know me.”

  Marshal Locke glances over at me. “Liam filled me in.”

  “Oh, so it’s Liam now. You two sure made it to second base fast.”

  “Second base?” he repeats with a frown that looks shockingly similar to Liam the Grouch’s.

  “She’s aggravated that we haven’t included her and this is her way of saying so,” Liam clarifies.

  I gawk from one man to the other. I want to argue, but he hit the nail on the head. I’m astute enough to know that anything I might say in defense or disagreement would only make matters worse.

  I snap my mouth shut with a click of my teeth and look over to Regina. “This is the love I get. Can you believe these two?”

  Regina grins at me, but there are stars in her eyes. “No, I sure can’t.”

  That makes me smile.

  Marshal McGruff speaks before I can dig my hole of petty petulance any deeper. “Actually, maybe we can get together over the weekend. I have to get back to D.C. tonight, but I’ll be back in town to finish up late tomorrow.”

  “Really?” I’m ecstatic.

  “Sure. The four of us could still meet for, say, coffee?”

  Four of us.

  I bet Regina is trying not to pee herself in excitement.

  I am beaming with happiness, for Regina and for myself, when I turn to Liam. “Can we?”

  “Why are you asking me?”

  “Because you’re the grumpy slayer of fun. I figure if anyone’s gonna give eleven reasons why we can’t, it’ll be you. So come on. Out with it.”

  “I was just going to agree to that, thank you very much, She Who Jumps To Conclusions,” he offers with his usual snark.

  I try to keep my squeak of glee to a very adult, very appropriate level. But I still kinda want to hug Liam. I’m not sure why.

  “It’s a date,” I say, bobbing my head at the marshal then Regina and, finally, Liam.

  His eyes are on me when mine stop on him. One side of his mouth tips up and he murmurs, “It’s a date.”

  My stomach flips over in anticipation.

  A date.

  A date that will mark the end of the case. The end of our kissing cease-fire.

  Holy moly.

  I might need to shave my legs for this.

  As my body happily relaxes now that plans have been made to answer my zillion questions and get some time with Liam, as well as a possible suitor for Regina, the tension and distraction that was keeping my shoulder from hurting to its full extent leaves as well.

  “Uh, Regina, is there any way you could maybe run me by the urgent care? I think I’m gonna need something for my arm.”

  It’s Liam who responds. His face is crunched down into his expression of mean concern, although I’m learning that while pretty much every expression looks mean, most of them aren’t. Or at least not as mean as I’d originally assumed.

  At least I think not.

  Although I could be wrong.

  “Maybe we need to get a post-reduction
x-ray. Just to make sure everything is back in place,” Liam offers, raising his hand to lay it gently on my shoulder.

  “Can you feel that?” I ask him.

  “Feel what?”

  “My heart. It has moved to my armpit and is now pumping all the blood in my body to exactly where your hand is.”

  He pulls his hand away. “Sorry.”

  “No, you weren’t hurting me. I just…phew!” I fan my face. “Is it hot in here again?”

  “Come on,” Liam says, sweeping me up into his arms. “I’m taking you now.”

  “It’s not in my legs, Liam,” I complain, but only mildly. I very much like being carried by Liam Dunning.

  Very much like.

  “Hush,” he grumbles. “Be a good patient for once in your life.”

  “I am a good patient. I threw up on someone other than you tonight. Doesn’t that count for anything?”

  I catch sight of Regina’s smile just before Liam carries me out of the room. I grin at her and she waves at me.

  I leave with my grump. She stays with hers.

  We may be onto something here.

  22

  I wake to a pounding on my door. Or is it a pounding in my head? I can’t be sure.

  Gumbo snorts, so I figure it’s the actual door since he can’t hear what I’m thinking. At least I hope he can’t. That would be kinda cool, but it would also be very freaky.

  Very.

  Mr. Jingles barks once and I whisper a calming shhhh so that he doesn’t get the rest of the band stirred up. I hold my breath and wait to see if they’re going to start their jungle symphony or hold their peace.

  I breathe a sigh of relief when they keep quiet. It would be really hard to wrangle a bunch of squirming, excited critters with one arm in a sling.

  I hurry to the door, yanking it open to a smiling and blessedly familiar face.

  “Beebee!” I exclaim, flinging my good arm around her neck. “You’re here!”

  “Chère, wild horses couldn’t keep me away from you. You ought to know that.” She kisses my cheek and then gently nudges me away. “Let me get a good look at you.”

  I stand back, straightening my shoulders as much as possible and pushing hair out of my face with my good hand.

  “What happened to your arm?” she asks in alarm.

  I dismiss her concern with a wave. “It’s nothing. It’s not broken or anything. Just a little injury. This thing is just to remind me to keep it still. Nothing serious.”

  Of course I don’t tell her an assassin yanked my arm out of socket and Liam had to put it back in place. She’d probably never let me out of her sight again.

  Her cheerful brown eyes scan me from head to toe and back again, and she smiles. “This place must be agreeing with you. You look happy.”

  I grin, and it’s broad and joyful and genuine. “I am, Beebee. I am. The only way this place would be any more perfect is if you were here. And Momma Leona,” I add, craning my neck to look around her. “Speaking of momma, where is she?”

  It’s Beebee’s turn to do that dismissive wave. “She couldn’t come this trip.”

  My heart sinks with dread. “Is she okay?”

  “Oh, chil’, she’s fine. Nothing to worry about,” she assures. “We can talk about all that later. Right now, we’ve got some catching up to do.”

  I stare at her for a few seconds longer. Why don’t I believe her?

  I want to ask more questions, but I know Beebee well enough to know that it won’t matter. She’s the most stubborn woman in the free world. She won’t tell me a thing until she’s good and ready to do so. My best bet is just to wait her out.

  Because patience is my strong suit.

  Mentally, I snort at that preposterous notion, and add a silent NOT!

  Waiting is excruciating for someone like me.

  Excruciating!

  I make up my mind to try, though, and I plaster a smile on my face. “You can tell me what’s going on when you’re ready. Until then, get in here. I’m so happy to see you.”

  I pull her into the carriage house, but before I can shut the door, a compact hybrid car comes skidding to a stop right behind my car. A tall, lanky man-child that probably hasn’t been driving for more than two years gets out and races toward the door. In his hands is a rectangular box.

  He hands it to me and mutters a breathless, “I’m supposed to give this to you and tell you that it’s from someone named Felonious. She said you’d know what to do when you open it.”

  Trepidation fills my gut and I let my head drop back. “Oh, man!”

  “What is it?” Beebee asks from behind me, concern once again coloring her voice.

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a…business associate with a weird sense of humor. That’s all.”

  “Well, it looks like a gift. You’d better open it up and see what’s inside.” When I turn from the fleeing delivery boy, Beebee’s eyes are back to their usual sparkling selves.

  And they’re trained on the box.

  Who doesn’t love a good present? At this point in the year, it’s like a preview to Christmas.

  Unless it’s from Felonious.

  Then it’s just a preview to Doomsday.

  “Do you know what it might be?” Beebee asks, practically foaming at the mouth as she waits for me to open it.

  “No, but one thing I can promise. It won’t be boring.”

  “Even better, chère. Even better.”

  Beebee follows me to the living room, where Mr. Jingles and Lucy-fur lovingly attack her. Clearly, they remember her from our home in Louisiana. Like Regina…and Liam…and Mrs. Stephanopoulos…and pretty much everyone else I know, Beebee has never been in love with my menagerie. She likes animals just fine. Just not as much as I do. But still, she pets them fondly.

  Gumbo must sense her goodness. Even though he’s never met her, he trots in behind the others to hop up onto the couch beside Beebee. She startles for a second when he roots his nose at her arm, but then she reaches over to tentatively scratch the top of his head, too. He squints his sweet brown eyes in pleasure.

  “You must be her newest love. Gumbo, right?” Beebee asks him. He snorts as if he knows exactly what she’s saying. Beebee glances up at me, eyebrows raised. “This one’s smart.”

  “Told you.”

  Just then, with quite possibly the worst timing of any animal ever, Fred sticks his head through the dog door and hollers his freakishly disturbing goat-man scream.

  Beebee squalls like she’s been shot and that’s all it takes to create a panic. Her shriek is like a Defcon siren to my critters.

  Mr. Jingles snarls, Gumbo snorts, and Lucy-fur growls just before she takes off to the bedroom, presumably to take the land on top of Gator’s cage. A few seconds after she disappears, I hear the squeak of the hamster’s wheel followed closely by Squishy’s repetitive warning.

  “Tippecanoe! Tippecanoe! Tippecanoe!” he squawks.

  “What in tarnation?” Beebee exclaims, her eyes darting around like she’s trying to look everywhere at once.

  “They’re my built-in alarm system,” I tell her, raising my voice enough to be heard over the commotion. As I’m making my way to the door to push Fred’s head out, I see Ethel lying on her side in the yard, keeled over with her legs in the air like whatever “shot” Beebee hit her next.

  I smile. I always do. I can’t help but find the whole thing amusing. I mean, really, my house is like a pet carnival.

  “Chère, I don’t believe anything on God’s green earth could sneak up on you with all this mess.” She chortles, having recovered from her Fred fright.

  I run to the bedroom to grab Lucy and get her out the front door. I get another jolt of my own when I open it to find a person standing there.

  Another beautifully wrinkled, happily smiling face.

  “Miss Haddy! What are you doing here so early?”

  I wonder for a second if I’m confused about the time. Maybe it’s really late afternoon and I’m Rip Van Wink
le’s granddaughter.

  “I wanted to tell you that I already got the turkeys lined up from Old MacDonald. He’ll be bringing them to the maze for you around ten, just before the kiddies arrive.”

  “Oh, okay. Thank you. Honestly, it had slipped my mind completely, so I appreciate you taking care of that.”

  Under her brilliantly red parka with its fur-lined hood, her shoulders shrug. “I know how busy you’ve been, sugar pie. We appreciate you stepping up to do this.”

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure, Miss Haddy.”

  Lie.

  That’s a bald-faced lie.

  “Well, I guess I’ll be going,” she says hesitantly.

  “Can’t you stay for just another minute? There’s someone I’d like for you to meet.”

  Her face brightens and I realize that’s probably what this visit was really about. She knows everything, which no doubt includes the arrival of Beebee at the Inn. “Oh, of course, sugar. I’m in no hurry.”

  I look past her to the hearse parked beside my car. I wave to Malcolm who is sitting behind the wheel. At first he doesn’t move. At all. I wonder if he doesn’t see me, even though I’m directly in front of him, flailing my good arm like I’m having a fit. I’m beginning to think he’s fallen asleep when he finally nods and slowly reaches for the door handle.

  By the time he gets to the porch, I hear the bang of Mrs. Stephanopoulos’ back door. She steps out to hobble across the yard toward us. I don’t know how she knew we were out here. She can’t see or hear all that well. She must have a world-class sixth sense, though, because she doesn’t seem to miss a thing. Anywhere. She is the eyes and ears of Miss Haddy’s operation after all. It’s just a mystery to me how that’s possible.

  I hold the door open for her, too. She frowns at me and mumbles something as she passes. I can’t decide if she said “good morning” or “should’ve warned me.” Either way, I smile and nod and pat her shoulder before I close the door.

  In that short time, Miss Haddy has already made her way to Beebee, and it appears that the two have reached BFF status. I’m just about to introduce Malcolm and Mrs. Stephanopoulos when there’s another bang on the door. This one gives me a little shiver down my spine. It’s a knock I recognize. It strums along my nerves like a guitarist’s fingers over taut strings.