by Emmy Grace
Lucky and the Crushed Clown
The Carriage House Capers, Book 4
Emmy Grace
EG Books
Copyright © 2019 by Emmy Grace
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover by Mallory Rock Rock Solid Cover Design
Created with Vellum
To all those who had a weird childhood dream
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Untitled
Lucky and the Drowned Debutante
Lucky and the Drowned Debutante
Thank you
Connect with me
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by Emmy Grace
1
My best friend, boss, and sometimes torturer, Regina is sitting on the edge of my bed looking radiant in a copper sweater. With Halloween approaching, it’s the perfect fall color and it sets off her warm Cajun features.
I love fall. The cooler weather, yes. The colors, definitely. But what I love most are the flavors that I associate with those vibrant colors. Fresh apples, steaming cider, pumpkin spice everything. Oh, fall, how I love thee! Get in my belly.
But even better than fall food is circus food. I'm already mourning the treats I’ll be missing out on.
“You’re seriously not going to the circus?” asks Regina.
“No. Not this time.” I don’t have to pout with my face. My voice is doing a great job all on its own.
“Why not? It’s the land of exotic animals. It’s like your mother ship.”
“I have all the exotic animals I need right here.” I smile up at her from the folds of my comforter. Gumbo, the pig I stole from grumpy ex-FBI agent, Liam Dunning, is curled up in the bend of my knees, Lucy-fur, my mean black cat, is lying above my head on the pillow, and Mr. Jingles, my Frenchie, is spread out at the foot of the bed. Squishy, the parrot I rescued from being road kill, is half asleep on his perch in the corner of the room, and my hamster, Gator, is nibbling on food in his cage. I don’t have to look to know that Dory, Nemo, and Jaws, my fish, are all swimming lazily in their respective waters.
All is well here in the Boucher private circus.
“This isn’t exotic. It’s the wild kingdom.” Regina curls her lip as her eyes dart around the room at my critters. She’s not a fan. “But that’s not the point. Lucky, this isn’t like you. You’ve been hiding out for weeks.”
“Have not.”
“Have, too.”
I shrug. I can’t really argue beyond that, mainly because she’s right.
“Regina, you know what happens now. It’s Gator Cove all over again.” Gator Cove, Louisiana is our hometown. We left there less than a year ago to move to Salty Springs, South Carolina because of a stalker.
Well, actually three.
I met my adopted grandmother, Beebee, when I was nine years old. She took me in and blessed me. Beebee believes that by laying her hands on me and pronouncing my comings and my goings to be blessed, that she affected my life. Most people wouldn’t argue because, in truth, I do have this extraordinary way of getting out of messes.
Too bad her blessing doesn’t keep me from getting into them.
Being blessed also seemed to affect the way men react to me. Regina calls it my “lucky charm.” Liam calls it “catnip.” Well, he calls me catnip.
It starts off as just attraction. Men are very attentive and nice and often flirtatious with me, which is no big deal. But I learned a few years ago that things turn ugly when I kiss them.
Ugly, as in stalker ugly.
Ugly as in my underwear drawer has been violated more times than Vivian in Pretty Woman.
But I left all that behind in Gator Cove. And since moving to Salty Springs, I’ve been careful not to get into the same situation. Heck, I haven’t gone on one single date, and it was all working out perfectly.
Until last month.
When Liam Dunning kissed me.
“You don’t know that Liam will react the same way the others did.”
“I don’t know that he won’t.”
“Would it be the worst thing in the world if he did?” Regina’s question is tentative.
I give my best friend my most offended look. “Of course it would! It would ruin everything.”
“You know what I mean. Liam is awesome. He’s Tasty Cakes, for Pete’s sake. He’s gorgeous and smart and capable, and I think he really likes you. Like likes you likes you.”
“We’ll never know now, will we?”
Even now, I get a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach just thinking about it.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not like he ever made any declarations or anything. Or asked me out. If he does now, how will I ever know that it wasn’t because of the kiss? This stupid blessing that Beebee gave me? It’s like a love potion. It’s not even real.”
I roll onto my belly, burying my face in a pillow before Regina can see how much this upsets me.
I feel her hand slide up my arm to shake my shoulder. “Hey.” When I don’t roll face up, she shakes harder. “Hey, look at me.”
Grudgingly, I do. I try to keep my distress hidden, but it’s hard to hide much of anything from my best friend. We’re like sisters. We practically have telepathy. Like right now, I think she’s contemplating my utter lack of makeup and whether or not I’ve showered today.
It’s nearly six PM and the answer is no, I haven’t showered.
I may need to get a grip.
“What?”
“You can’t stay here in your little carriage house forever and worry about what may be happening. That’s nuts. The only way you’ll know what’s up is to take the plunge and go talk to Liam. See how he acts. You’re already prepared for the worst, so whatever you find out will either just confirm it or make you feel better.”
I sigh heavily. “I guess.”
“So you’ll come with me tonight? It’s the circus, Lucky. Come on. I bet they’ll even have an elephant.” She nods and smiles. She knows that animals are the way to my heart, but elephants are a weakness of mine. If I could figure out how to sneak one in and hide it in the back yard, I’d adopt one in a heartbeat. But something tells me my landlady, Mrs. Stephanopoulos (or Mrs. Snuffleupagus, as Regina and I call her since her nose is long and wiggly and trunk like) would notice a three-ton animal wandering around the premises.
“No. I don’t think so. I’m still not feeling that…jolly.”
; “This will help.”
“No, it will just ruin my love of le cirque.”
Regina sniggers. “Does it make you feel classy to say it like that?”
I grin up at her. “Maybe.”
“See? You’re feeling better already. Good enough to get back to work for sure.”
I test new consumer products for a living. Regina is a boss in Consumer Global, the company that doles out the methods of torture. Some of the products are good ones, harmless even, but most of the things I get tasked with testing are questionable. It didn’t take long for my uncanny ability to survive things to make its way to the higher-ups, which forever influenced the products that get sent my way.
If it’s risky, possibly defective, or otherwise undesirable, give it to Lucky.
“Can’t you give me a few more days?”
That was whiny. I’ll admit it. But there are times when a girl’s gotta whine.
Like now.
“I can give you one more day. But you’ll like this product. I promise. It’s a primer for makeup. It makes it stay put all day long.”
“Because I wear so much makeup.” I roll my eyes. “Maybe you should test it.”
Regina loves to do hair and makeup and dress up. Every day of her life is like a fashion show, even though we live in a town half the size of Mayberry.
She pats her cheek. “Who says I’m not?”
“Fine.” I fling my arms up in exasperation and let them flop down on the bed. Unfortunately, my careless action triggers the upstart of an anxious animal symphony.
Mr. Jingles gives a vicious snarl (it’s what he does when he gets startled), then Gumbo’s head snaps up with a loud snort. Above my head, the cat leaps to her feet and zooms across to the top of Gator’s hamster cage. She takes high ground when she’s scared, threatening the room with her deep, growling meow.
The cat’s clatter on top of his cage causes Gator to jump into his hamster wheel and start running for dear life. He hasn’t figured out yet that it doesn’t actually take him anywhere. Or that he’s not in danger.
The squeak of the wheel disquiets the parrot, which starts pacing back and forth on his perch, squawking a word of his choosing. It’s always different, too.
“Hambone, hambone, hambone!” Squishy repeats.
If I don’t stop it, the whole cascade of events just recurs on a loop. It will continue until I remove Lucy-fur from the room. For whatever reason, she’s the one who perpetuates the cycle. I don’t know how long they’d go on this way if I weren’t here to intervene.
Probably until doomsday.
Or until one of them passed out from exhaustion.
I leap up from the bed and grab Lucy-fur and take her to the front door. I put her outside until things settle down. Within seconds of her disruptive absence, the others calm.
Back in the bedroom, Regina is shaking her head. “My God, you missed your calling.”
“I thought my calling was to be world-class sleuth.”
“That’s only half of it. The other half is to be a ringleader at the circus. You get plenty of practice in your every day life. I bet you could tame a lion like nobody’s business.”
“I’d be great with a whip, wouldn’t I?” I pretend to crack a whip with a lusty wuh-pssssh!
“Don’t let Liam see you wielding that,” Regina says, referring to my invisible whip. “He might want to do more than kiss you.”
And just like that, my worries are back. “That kiss was part of Felonious’ instructions. Not a choice”
“I don’t believe that. That girl always makes you pay for her hacker information with some kind of embarrassing thing. Why would she all of a sudden require Tasty Cakes to kiss you?”
“You said it. She’s a teenager. Who knows why they do the things they do?”
“You keep telling yourself that. I think Liam wanted to kiss you, so he did.”
“Don’t forget that it was also part of that scene.” We were reenacting the last dance scene of the movie Dirty Dancing. Replete with the lift, which was kind of awesome.
She waves me off. “Whatever. I’m done arguing with you. Come to the circus. Or don’t. Hide out here forever like a big chicken. Or don’t. Up to you.”
A knock sounds at the door. It’s a gentle sound, unlike Liam Dunning’s grouchy banging.
It just makes me miss that stupid knock of his.
Bah!
Regina makes her way toward the door. “That’s Suzie.”
Suzie Lynn is the resident hairdresser and owner of the only salon in Salty Springs, Color Me Badd. She’s also a fan of the 80’s and 90’s, which is very obvious when she pokes her head into my bedroom. Her hair is Pink Panther pink and slicked up into seven tall Mohawk spikes that march in a neat row from forehead to nape. If I could pick her up and hold her like a lance, I could probably impale someone with those hair spears.
“Hey, Luck,” she says. Most of the people in Salty Springs have some variation or play on my name. I consider them all terms of endearment. “Didn’t change your mind, huh?”
She looks pointedly at my pajamas, pajamas that I may or may not have been wearing yesterday.
Fine. I was.
And the day before that.
“No.” I offer her a weak smile and an even weaker, “You two have fun. Bring me some popcorn.”
“You can make popcorn here,” Regina says, pulling Suzie Lynn back to the front door.
“Mine doesn’t taste like the circus.”
“Who wants popcorn that tastes like straw, a sweaty strong man, and an elephant’s butt?”
“It does not taste like that. Take it back!”
She sticks her tongue out and my two friends disappear through the door.
I slouch down on the end of the bed. Gumbo trots over and nudges my hand with his damp snout. I scratch around his ears. “You love me just for me, don’t you, buddy?”
Suddenly I feel like crying. Why does it bother me so much that I might’ve lost what I had with Liam?
2
It’s nearly ten thirty when my phone rings. It’s Miss Haddy’s number. She’s a Godfather-like figure in Salty Springs. She’s the oldest person in town and she knows all the dirt on everyone. Even though she looks like Mrs. Claus in pastel velour, she’s not one to be underestimated.
Miss Haddy collects information, her primary source being my landlady, Mrs. Stephanopoulos, and she uses it like currency to maintain order in the community. Power like that might go to someone else’s head, or make them mean, but Miss Haddy is sweet as sugar and only comes out fighting if she’s cornered.
Not only has she taken a liking to me, she knows of my slight obsession with crime and mystery, so she doesn’t hesitate to call upon me when she needs someone to sneak around and look into things.
It probably helps that I have a very lenient view of the law when it comes to breaking and entering.
“Hi, Miss Haddy. How are you?”
“Hi there, sugar plum. I’m doin’ alright.”
“I figured you’d be at the circus, enjoying yourself.”
As far as I know, everyone in the entire town was going, which just makes me feel worse about not going.
Stupid Liam Dunning and his stupid kiss.
“I was. Right up until the clown was killed.”
I shoot straight up in bed. “The clown was killed?”
“He sure was. Crushed to death.”
“By what?”
“An elephant’s caboose.”
“Is that a euphemism for something?”
“No. I mean the man was squished by an elephant’s rear end. He got sat on.”
“How can that even be? Why didn’t he move?”
“I’m guessing it was part of the routine. You know how they do. Maybe the elephant wasn’t supposed to put all his weight down. I don’t know.”
“That’s just awful.”
“You’re telling me, sugar, but the worst part is, it might not have been an accident.”
; “How so?”
“Well, you see, my cousin, Charlene’s great granddaughter Allanda is the fire breather. That’s how we get the circus to come here every year. I doubt any other one would bother with a town this small. Anyway, she was dating the clown, and she said there was some trouble between him and a few of the other circus…folk.”
“Wait a minute. Are you saying you think someone made the elephant sit on him?”
“Could be. I don’t really know. This is more your area of expertise than mine. That’s why I’m calling. Would you mind coming on over here to talk to Allanda?”
“Oh, uh…” I glance down at myself. At least I mustered up the gumption to take a shower and change clothes.
And by clothes I mean different pajamas.
I guess I could put on real clothes, though. If I have to.
I hold back a sigh. “Sure. I can do that.”
“Good, sugar pie. Meet you right inside. See you shortly.”
All I can think as I change from my pumpkin pajamas into jeans and a sweatshirt is that I hope Liam isn’t there. Maybe my luck will hold out.
Only… it doesn’t.
I park in the grass in front of the sign that boasts FANCY FISHMAN’S FLYING CIRCUS. My belly twitters happily. I’ve loved the circus since I was old enough to know what a circus was. To me, they’ve always been magical places.
I get out and walk through the main entrance. Literally the first person I see when I step into the enormous tent is Mr. Tasty Cakes himself. He’s standing about ten feet away, talking to Miss Haddy and Mrs. Snuffleupagus. The godfather-mother and her consigliere. Malcolm Douglas is standing with the group, too. I think he might be Miss Haddy’s boyfriend. At the very least, he’s her driver. He’s always behind the wheel of her enormous black hearse.
