Arson Takes a Dare: The Third Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 3)
Authors: Jada Ryker
Arson Takes
a Dare
The Third Marisa Adair Mystery
Jada Ryker
This book is a work of fiction and a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real people, places, or things is a coincidence.
ARSON TAKES A DARE
Copyright © 2014 by Jada Ryker
All Rights Reserved. This includes the right to reproduce any portion of this book in any form.
ISBN-13: 978-1495411717
ISBN-10: 1495411710
Acknowledgments
I offer a special, heartfelt thank you to Larry Mattingly. My character Larry Kenton represents a fictionalized version of Larry Mattingly’s story. The real Larry suffered in his childhood. His father had his ‘unruly’ mother committed to a mental institution, and the children packed off to a notorious orphanage. Larry shows the true strength of the human experience by not only surviving the ordeal, but also going on to successful military service and a career as a respected businessman.
Larry’s story appears in his book
Eva’s Son.
His wonderful book is available on Amazon.
Thank you to Jada’s Betas, the superhero readers. Through their efforts,
Arson Takes a Dare
is a better quality and more polished book. Jada’s Betas are Paul “Eagle Eye” Carwile, Grace “Captain” Kirkland, and Joyce “Joy of Syntax” Beauchamp.
Thank you to my wonderful children, Heather and Julia, for their ongoing support. They are beautiful, confident, and intelligent young women. When I look at them, I also see kids laughing on waterslides, playing basketball, and baking cookies.
Professional editing and proofreading services were provided by Bryan Miller. He may be reached through his website at
www.williambryanmiller.com
.
Some excerpts appear from Wikipedia. The source is identified in each instance.
Any errors are my sole responsibility.
A Special Message to the Reader
Thank you for taking the time to read this book. I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I loved writing it.
A recurring character in the series is Althea Flaxton. Within the Takes a Dare series, she writes under the pen name Seretha Ranier. In the pages of
Arson Takes a Dare
, she shares her “story within the story,” which helps her make an important decision.
An Alien Act of Honor
is a science fiction/mystery short story. The short story is in a different font, Courier New, since Althea is attached to her typewriter. Althea and I hope you like it.
As an author, I rely on feedback from readers. If you enjoy
Arson Takes a Dare
, please take a moment to leave your comments on Amazon.
I want the book to be perfect. Pesky typos seem to have a cloaking ability while I’m looking at them, only to uncloak later for you. If you found any typos or have suggestions, please email me at [email protected]. To learn more about me and my work, please check out my webpage at www.JadaRyker.com.
If you would like to try a different type of book,
Dog Days of Karma
is a mystery adventure with romance and a soupçon of the paranormal. It’s the first book in the Karma series, chronicling the adventures of Celeste Carr and Ericka Maah, of the Carr – Maah Consulting Agency.
My published titles are listed at the end of the book, and are available on Amazon in electronic and paperback formats.
Enjoy!
Jada
THE TAKES A DARE
SERIES
Marisa Adair
spent her chaotic childhood in poverty and abuse in rural Kentucky. Now recovering from various addictions, she’s the trauma hospital’s human resources administrator… and an amateur sleuth.
Friends
Alex Caldwell
was part of Marisa’s childhood. Although a puny child, Alex tried to save Marisa from a gang of bullies. Now an adult, he hangs onto his sanity by a thread as he tries to save her from danger.
Tara Ross
is a pretty blonde with her own addiction… to shoes. She’ll need a twelve-step program to kick it.
The Trauma Hospital
Elizabeth Furlong
wants Alex’s old job, and she wants Alex. She also hates Marisa.
Director of Nursing
Tom Cordon
and Maintenance Director
Carlos Santana
support Elizabeth in her vendetta against Marisa.
Andrea Tartin
, the Rehab Services Director, is sick of Elizabeth’s devious scheming.
Vickie Miller,
Social Services Director, and
Jerry Holt
, the Continuous Quality Improvement Director, hate to commit to anything… especially each other.
Roommate
Laithe,
a regal Abyssinian cat, is Marisa’s roommate. The smart, mischievous feline shares space with Marisa, but she’s not the boss of him.
Support Group
While
Fred
and Marisa will never go shopping together, they’re friends. Fred is brave, and has Marisa’s back to the point of foolhardiness. His girlfriend is
Clara
, a retired lunch lady who used her “slay-dar” to help Marisa in her investigations.
Fred is also The Librarian of the support group.
The Library
is housed in an ancient piece of luggage. Marisa wonders if The Library is bewitched, larger on the inside than on the outside. Regardless, wherever Fred goes, the scuffed bag goes with him, either reposing at his feet or rolling along behind him.
In leather chaps and his body hung with enough chains to secure a junkyard,
Jason
appears tough and intimidating. He’s a brand new attorney, ready for his first client.
The Club
Diana
is Marisa’s unconventional friend, shaking her aging body on the stripper pole for decreasing tips and developing other hidden talents.
Anton
is the bouncer. He’s hellhound-hard on the outside and puppy-soft on the inside.
Claude
is the manager. He manages to piss everyone off.
Family
Barbara Adair,
Marisa’s mother, spent decades enabling the alcoholics in her life, including Marisa’s youngest brother,
Mosely Adair
, who was brutally murdered and the perpetrator caught in
Mayhem Takes a Dare.
Adversaries
Alisa
Atkins
was the leader of Marisa’s childhood tormentors. Now as an adult, she’s expanding her bullying skills on social media.
Parvis Stidham,
an investigative reporter, unearthed Althea’s secret life as a successful novelist. On the down low, Althea used Marisa’s chaotic background in her books. Parvis ambushed Marisa with the explosive information after his personal relationship with her didn’t work out.
Private Detective
Burke Lee Creed
is a private detective from Florida. The lure of Berea Kenton’s offer of her fortune in return for solving her daughter’s decades-old murder is irresistible.
City Police Department
Lieutenant Dreamus “Cam” Camden
tries to keep Marisa, Alex, and Tara out of his murder investigations. He fails. Spectacularly. Since
Tara Ross
is his girlfriend and Marisa’s friend, it’s a particularly thorny burr under his saddle.
Officer Josh Landis
is a new police officer, motivated to impress his boss.
Miss Daisy
is a rodeo clown accused of killing the top rodeo contender. Her friend
Bert
gives
Josh
a surprise and Dreamus important information for another case.
Sheriff’s Office
Sheriff Knox Creeter
, aka Sheriff Creature, uses his position of power to control women he perceives as vulnerable. He miscalculates when he tries it on Marisa.
Luke Creeter,
Knox’s
father and retired sheriff, unofficially assists Marisa and her friends with the investigation.
The Hotel Beatrice
After the Assisted Living Center burned due to a planted bomb in Book Two,
Mayhem Takes a Dare
, the clients and staff temporarily moved to a local hotel.
Althea Flaxton
, retired teacher, mother figure, and secret author, covertly used details of Marisa’s colorful life in her novels. Marisa feels betrayed, while Althea doesn’t believe she did anything wrong.
Clay Napier
is Althea’s handsome boyfriend. He retired from a mysterious government job, but he’s not the typical former civil servant. His relationship with Althea is on shaky ground, due to his disappointment in Althea and her sneaky ways.
Berea Kenton
is prepared to pour her newly-acquired lottery winnings into finding her daughter’s killer. Beautiful, talented
Mayla
was murdered two decades ago by a serial arsonist. Berea is estranged from her husband,
Larry Kenton.
Flora May
and
Starla
are best friends who work in the assisted living center. They love to interfere in their clients’ lives, including Althea and Clay.
Brownout.
Marisa Adair lazily watched the gauzy word float into her hazy consciousness like a neon sign marking a hectic night club in the mist. The disembodied voice of an addiction counselor filled her mind. “
A brownout happens when a person is drinking. The short-term memory doesn’t record events. The person may come to her senses in a totally new setting, unaware of how she got there.
”
Brownout.
The word dissolved into the beating of butterfly wings, covering her disconnected body like a shroud. The exotic butterflies reverse morphed into furry caterpillars, the endless feet insistent against her skin. The caterpillars transformed to robotic insects, the metallic marching harsh. The persistent thuds of inhuman feet spun into the thumping bass of hard rock music.
The last gossamer threads faded from her brain as Marisa realized she was seated in a chair. The padded edge in front of her was familiar. The raucous music pounded at her ears and vibrated through her slumped body.
Brown bottles. Long necks, glittering with condensation. Beer bottles!
Marisa recoiled in horror. Her elbow sent several empty bottles spinning to the floor.
I quit drinking. I went through inpatient rehab months ago. Didn’t I?
She rubbed her aching forehead, digging through the layers of disorientation.
I’m in the most notorious strip club in the region. Did I drop by to see my friend Diana?
Marisa peered up at the woman on the stage.
There’s Diana. But I wouldn’t sit at her stage like a customer. We’re friends. When we hang out, we’re both fully clothed.
The glittering bikini top and bottom highlighted rather than covered Diana’s strong, muscular body as she gyrated through the athletic dance moves. Her slight smile was incongruent with her watchful gaze. The silver glitter on her eight-inch black heels caught the flashing lights, with silver straps highlighting the defined calves. She paused in the middle of the stage, her long, blood-red nails expectantly holding open the bikini bottom.
A rabid body builder, Diana kept her body tone with daily weightlifting and strenuous exercise. As the club’s oldest dancer, Diana had needed a gimmick to differentiate herself from the tender young women on the adjacent stages. While the dim lights helped disguise the laugh lines at her eyes and her muscular body was in better shape than the vast majority of women her age, it was impossible to hide the effects of gravity with a skimpy bikini.
Diana had hit on the perfect way to capture the capricious attention of the customers. With the televisions jammed in every corner of the club constantly tuned to sports of all sorts, she was well aware of the competitive nature of males. Accordingly, she made the first dance of her set into a game. She challenged those seated at the stage to try and throw balled up currency into her held-open bikini bottom. It was always a huge hit with men of all ages.
Diana hasn’t noticed me yet,
Marisa thought.
Won’t she be surprised? And disappointed.
She pushed away the last thought and perked up.
I’m here anyway. I don’t want to go home. Maybe she can hang out with me between her dances.
“Hey, Diana,” Marisa called, wildly waving her arm and nearly taking out a waitress with a tray loaded with glasses.
Ignoring the flying balls of currency pelting her, Diana strode to Marisa’s edge of the stage. The fury in her dark eyes flashed like a solar flare. “Marisa, what the hell are you doing here?”
When the man next to Marisa reached for Diana’s ankle, she adroitly avoided the clawing fingers. The dancer ignored the disgruntled shouts from her disappointed audience at her stage’s perimeter.
“Diana, don’t be mad at me,” Marisa said, avoiding the dancer’s angry glare. “I’m not even sure how I got here.”
“I don’t believe that.” Her face twisted, Diana pointed with her toe. “Are you with that guy?”
Marisa focused on her friend’s face.
Diana is not happy with me.
“What guy?” Her head lolling on her shoulders, Marisa tried to look around. Bodies surrounded her, moving to the music. She could see the other stages, each perimeter crowded with spectators and a lone dancer in the center, caught in the bright spotlight over her head and in the avid customers’ eyes.
“Marisa, focus.” Diana snapped her fingers in Marisa’s face. “Is the guy sitting to your right with you?”
Which one is the right hand? I write with my left hand so…
Marisa carefully toggled to the right. She squinted, struggling to bring the features into focus. “Nope. Never saw him before in my life.”
Under the black billed cap, the handsome face flushed. “I’ve been buying you beer for the last hour, and you’ve been guzzling it like a thirsty bear at a waterhole! You had
better
be with me!”
The beer came from him. And since the bottles are empty, I must have drunk them,
Marisa thought. She stared at the face. Under the baseball cap visor, the deep set dark eyes were angry. The long nose was bisected with a speed bump from an old break. His clenched, square jaw was rough with stubble and etched with lines of temper. His bared teeth glowed white and straight. The face segued into a muscular neck, broad shoulders covered by a western-style plaid shirt, a trim waist and thick legs, with worn jeans ending in scuffed cowboy boots.
Diana scowled. “Unfortunately, I have seen him in here before. He’s Sheriff Creature, I mean Sheriff Creeter. He’s a regular.”
“If you call me Creature again, I’ll get you fired.” The sheriff growled and scooted his chair closer to Marisa. He angrily knocked empty bottles to the floor as he threw a thickly muscled arm around Marisa’s shoulders.
Marisa tried to shrug off the heavy arm. It was like trying to throw off a giant boa constrictor.
Given all of those empty bottles, it’s no wonder I feel…
“Pain free! I’m pain free, Diana!”
Marisa held up one finger. “The pain of my brother Mosely’s murder is a dull ache.” She held up another finger. “Althea’s betrayal doesn’t hurt. She was my savior when I was a little girl. Then she stole the angst of my life to spice up her novels. Even that doesn’t hurt.” She held up a third finger. “Where was I?” Frowning, she stared at her hand in confusion.
Diana’s face was set in anger. She tapped her toe. “You’re so wasted you can’t even think.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Marisa waved it away, knocking Sheriff Creeter’s cap askew. She ignored his growl. “What does matter is that I feel good.” She haphazardly bounced in her chair. “Do a little prance, make a little jive talking, get down tonight, wooo…”
Diana winced. “Enough disco! The seventies are dead. Thank God.” Her pained features melted into compassion. “I’m sorry your brother was brutally murdered right in front of you. I’m sorry Althea used your childhood abuse and your adult addiction struggles in her books. But enough is enough.” Diana extended her hand, palm up. “Marisa, give me your cell phone. Now.”
Obediently, Marisa dug in her pockets until she found her phone.
Diana bent over the phone, ignoring the loud grumbles of her customers. “I’m calling Alex to come and get you.”
“Not Alex!” Marisa’s wail rose over the loud music.
“Alex Caldwell is your boyfriend.” The dancer punched buttons. “He gets to retrieve you.”
“I’m not a lost package, for God’s sake. And Alex is not my boyfriend. Give me back my phone.”
Diana placed it in Marisa’s hand. “Here. And if he’s not your boyfriend, then what is he?”
Marisa tried to think. “He’s the interim Chief Executive Officer of the trauma hospital. Therefore, he’s my new boss, at least for now. My last boss Mike Bolte got fired when I was giving him hell about his girlfriend and his wife walked in. And my boss before that got fired after he was arrested because of me. If it hadn’t been for my down low investigating, he’d have gotten away with his crimes.”
Diana shook her long hair out of her beautiful face. “If you get Alex fired, I’m going to be very upset with you.”
“I won’t get him fired.” Marisa had a feeling Alex wouldn’t be happy with her either if she did. “Now, what was I trying to say about Alex? Oh, yes, he’s not my boyfriend.”
“Enough lip flapping.” The sheriff shook Marisa. “Let’s get out of here.”
Marisa’s head bobbed with the sheriff’s rough shaking. “Stop that… er… Deputy Critter.” She twisted free of his grip. Focusing on Diana and the dancer’s earlier question, her face cleared. “I know what Alex is. He helps me solve murders.”
“He has to love you,” Diana said. “He bought you that awful pink motorcycle helmet with the hole built in for you to thread your ponytail through.” She shuddered, sending her breasts jiggling and the men at the table into ecstasy. “And let’s not forget the poisonous green bow to clip on your ponytail. It has a clip sharp enough to skewer an assailant. It’s either love or a psychosis. FYI, I’m going with love.”
Marisa unsteadily pulled herself to her feet and swayed at the stage.
I wish the room would stop spinning.
She grasped the padded edge in an effort to still the world.
Marisa’s suitor tried to wedge his sturdy, muscled body between her and the stage. His thick fingers dug into her shoulder.
“Leave my friend alone, Sheriff Creeter.” Diana looked over Marisa’s head. “Shit. Here comes Claude, the club manager. I have to dance, Marisa, or I’m going to get fired.” Her eyes cut to the angry man next to her friend. “Get out before I have the bouncer throw you out.”
Marisa squinted at the man pushing into her personal space. The massive shoulders, covered by the western shirt with straining seams, thick neck, and tree-trunk legs in worn blue jeans wavered into focus. “Sheriff Creeter? You’re built like a bull I saw at the Kentucky State Fair when I was a teenager. It was wide, corded with muscle, and hell on hooves.”
The sheriff thrust his face in Marisa’s field of vision. “Are you calling me a cow?”
“Of course not. You’re the Cretan bull from Greek mythology. Hercules had to capture the vicious bull. King Eurystheus…”
“Just stop talking.” The sheriff shook his head and tilted it aggressively at Diana. “Claude is not going to bounce me.”
“What’s going on here?” The angry man snapped his fingers in Diana’s face. “I’m the club manager and you’re a dancer. Dance! Now!” The people around the table, men and women dressed the continuum from jeans and t-shirts to expensive suits, cheered.
With a superhuman effort, Marisa raised her head to inspect the newcomer. “Black hair smoothed straight back, mean dark eyes, rumpled suit and tie… wow, it’s John Dillinger.”
“I’m Claude, The Manager,” he growled. By his tone, he was much more important than a long-dead criminal. “Sheriff Creeter, what’s going on?”
“I’m having a good time with my girlfriend,” the sheriff replied.
Trying to spot the unlucky woman, Marisa looked around.
A hand the size of a small Thanksgiving turkey landed on Marisa’s shoulder. She squirmed like a butterfly impaled by a pin. “I’m not your girlfriend.”
Claude’s thin lips tightened. “Sheriff, you’re causing a disturbance. You’re upsetting the customers, and you have to leave.” His dark eyes raked Marisa. “And take her with you.”
Sheriff Creeter invaded Claude’s personal space, his chest nearly touching the smaller man’s forehead. “I’m buying this place. That means I may or may not keep you on the payroll.” He frowned over Claude’s head. “And call off your watchdog.”
“I’m not a watchdog.” The hulking bouncer hovered. Because the club wanted to create an atmosphere of a classy gentleman’s club, rather than a tawdry, blue collar strip bar, the male employees dressed formally in tuxedos and pristine shirts. In accordance with the dress code, their faces were clean shaven and their hair neatly cut short.
In contrast to his attire, the bouncer’s brows and aggressive stance signaled a body-breaking threat. “I can help this jerk find the door, Claude.”
“Anton!” Marisa happily clapped her hands. Inadvertently throwing herself off balance, she fell backward into her chair. “My favorite bouncer,” she added.
Anton’s sweet smile ruined his tough guy demeanor. “Hi, Sweetie Pie!” He grasped her hand and yanked her to her feet.
Marisa felt a familiar sensation of security steal over her. When she’d visited the club during her chaotic years of drinking, she’d always felt perfectly safe. The management peppered the crowd with huge bruisers in evening clothes to keep the customers’ hands off the dancers. The concept was similar to the requirement of the girls wearing clothing if they were not dancing. If customers could touch the women or see their nearly naked bodies for free, why would they spend money in the club? And that blanket of safety folded over Marisa as well, since she was female.
Diane reached for her filmy black wrap and wiggled into it. She leaped off the stage like an avenging angel, briefly airborne in the smoky club. In her towering heels, she loomed over the short club manager and the bulky lawman. “What do you mean, you’re buying the club? Claude’s bosses gave me… and my associates… an exclusive option to purchase the club.” She clenched her fists. “What are you trying to pull, Claude?”
“Yes, Claude, what are you trying to pull?” In a falsetto voice, the sheriff savagely mimicked Diana. “I hold the option to buy the club.”