Calamity Jayne and the Sisterhood of the Traveling Lawn Gnome (39 page)

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"And that, leaders of tomorrow, concludes my Career Day presentation on what it's like to be an investigative journalist. Are there any questions?"

A girl in the front raised her hand.

"Is that your real hair or do you do something to it to make it do that?"

"Did you really fall asleep during your own graduation?"

"Does your horse really have pink spots?"

I looked at my watch.

The end of class bell saved me. I exited the school as fast as my slouch boots could carry me.

"Thanks for coming, Tressa," Mick said. "Jada appreciates it." He gave his girlfriend a hug.

"No problem, Mick. No problem at all. I loved being Jada's show-and-tell. But who are you going to have come speak as your career day show-and-teller?" I asked.

"Manny."

I frowned.

"How'd you do that? You can throw your voice and sound just like Manny," I said. "Oh wait. Manny's right behind me, isn't he?" I asked and turned.

"Barbie."

"Manny," I stared him down. Or rather up. "I hear you're going to give a career day chat."

He nodded.

"Interesting," I said.

"Hey, Manny. Mick's gonna walk Jada to her next class. Be right back."

The couple went back inside.

"So, this talk. What are you speaking as? What jack-of-all-trades are you going to be today?"

"Barbie's in a rare mood," he said, his eyes never leaving my face.

"Hmm. Let me guess. Are you a bus driver? A chauffeur? Bodyguard? Consultant? What was that other term? Oh, yes. Facilitator! Or, perhaps you're speaking as a father?"

Manny's gaze sharpened.

"Barbie spending too much time with Dusty dudes who see little green men," he said.

"I'm ready to ask you question number one, Mr. DeMarco. Prepared to be amazed."

Was it my imagination or did Manny seem a little nervous?

He folded his arms across his chest.

"Fire away," he said.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the vintage Darth Vader mask Craig had worn for trick-or-treat the year I went as Chewie and Taylor, Leia.

I put the mask up to my face.

"Manny," I said, sounding like a severe asthmatic. "Are you Mick's fathah?"

Manny blinked.

That's right.

He blinked.

For just an infinitesimal moment, I caught Manny DeMarco with his poise down.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what you call a cliffhanger.

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What's next for Calamity Jayne...

Love can be…murder.

"Come away with me."

I stared at my boyfriend of roughly three months.

"What did you say?"

"Come away with me."

I bit my lip.

"To do what exactly?"

He gave me an audacious wink before sliding a bi-folded piece of paper across the table.

"And then there was fun," I read. "Killer Couples Retreat." My jaw did a major trapdoor move. "Couples retreat? You want us to go to a couples' retreat?"

"Not just any couples' retreat. A killer couples' retreat," he said. "Check out the section set off by crime scene tape."

Couples retreat? Crime scene tape?

Who was this handsome stranger and what had he done with Ranger Rick?

Calamity Jayne Mysteries book #9 – coming in 2016!

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Award-winning author, Kathleen Bacus is a former state trooper and consumer fraud investigator. A Write-Touch Readers Award winner, Golden Heart® Finalist, and Kiss of Death Award of Excellence Daphne® Finalist, Kathleen is hard at work on her next book.

To find out more visit: 
www.kathybacus.com

 or on Facebook:  
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Kathleen-Bacus/

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Calamity Jayne Mysteries:

Calamity Jayne

Calamity Jayne and the Fowl Play at the Fair

Calamity Jayne and the Haunted Homecoming

Calamity Jayne and the Campus Caper

Calamity Jayne in the Wild, Wild West

Calamity Jayne and the Hijinks on the High Seas

Calamity Jayne and the Trouble with Tandems

Calamity Jayne and the Sisterhood of the Traveling Lawn Gnome

Six Geese A 'Slaying (a holiday short story)

Graves Occurences young adult horror novels:

Vessel

Visions

Visitation

Other Works:

Fiancé at Her Fingertips

Trading Spaces

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of another humorous romantic mystery from Gemma Halliday Publishing

SCHOOL'S OUT FOR MURDER

by

TRACY D. COMSTOCK

PROLOGUE

She stormed into the kitchen, dropping her purse and keys on the table in the cozy breakfast nook. Normally, the view of the wooded area, framed in the floor-to-ceiling windows enclosing the nook, calmed and soothed her. But today she didn't even spare the view a glance. Humiliated. How dare he humiliate her? Thirty-five years of marriage, and this is the thanks she gets? No, he would not get away with it.

Her turquoise, patent leather stilettos tapped out a counterpoint rhythm to the blood boiling in her veins as she paced the tiled length of the kitchen. The overwhelming cloak of betrayal threatened to smother her if she let go of her tight hold on the rage. She knew there would be hurt and heartbreak and copious tears, but those would have to wait until she had the time to afford such luxuries. Right now she had to focus on combating the humiliation. Not only was her marriage at stake, but her position as well. This was an election year, after all, and she would not be declared a winner due to pity votes. Goodness knows she had made enough people mad over the past months with her funding proposals. The last thing she needed right now was this attempt to destroy her reputation, not to mention her ego.

She would get him to confess. That would be the first step. Then she would show him to be the old fool he was acting. Everyone would see his true colors. That thought gave her pause as she swung into the living area, headed for the stairs and the sanctuary of her room. Over thirty-five years she had thought she had seen every one of his colors. How could she have been so wrong? Tears threatened to choke her, but she swallowed them back with effort. A hot shower would give her time to indulge in a good cry, and then she would be clearer headed, ready to work out a plan of attack.

The shower on her mind, she almost ignored the pile of mail in the entryway. They had both loved the idea of an old-fashioned mail slot and had put one in when they built this house, but she didn't feel like stooping to gather the mail right now. Still, the white envelope caught her attention. Snatching it from the pile of flyers and bills, she examined it closely. There was no return address, and the only writing on the front was a single, typewritten word:
Mayor
.

She ripped the envelope open, sucking at her thumb when the flap sliced it in a vicious paper cut. A lone piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Her hand shook when she lifted it to read, and she briefly wondered why she felt such a cold chill. Perhaps it was because today had been full of bad news. She scanned the single sheet quickly, sucked in a breath, and then read it again more slowly:

I have information you need. I know all about your problem… Meet me at the school carnival at 8:00 p.m. I will be behind the Whac-A-Mole booth. Don't be late.

Sincerely,

A Friend

Her first instinct was to throw it in the garbage, but a part of her was curious. Did this have to do with
him
? Or was this information connected to the election? Either way, considering her current circumstances, she really didn't feel she could ignore this. Glancing at her slim, gold watch, she sighed. No time for that shower now. It was 7:45 p.m.

She retraced her steps to the kitchen, gathering her purse and keys. She climbed into the shiny silver Lexus—a gift from him. With a toss of her head, she punched the garage door opener, knowing full well that it was her money that had purchased the car. This thought helped her build up a full head of steam again. Rage and frustration beat back the betrayal for the time being, and she was thankful for it. It would never do to show weakness in front of whomever she was meeting.

Parking on a side street a block away from the school carnival, she made her way to the designated booth, the letter clutched in her hand. She stuck to the edges of tents and booths, knowing she was
persona non grata
at the carnival. In the lowering gloom, she could just make out a figure at the back of the Whac-A-Mole booth. Edging forward, she barked, "Who are you?" In reply, the figure pulled out something from the depths of his—or her?—black hoodie. As the setting sun glinted off the item in the figure's hand, she saw the gun barrel and turned to flee. She was a split second too slow, however, as the figure pulled the trigger on the silenced gun, catching her square in the back. Even as she slumped to the ground, the figure was pulling a burlap bag from the nearby sack races over her sightless eyes. A second later, and the figure was gone, leaving her lifeless body in the shadows. Her humiliation, and its accompanying betrayal, would no longer be a concern.

CHAPTER ONE

Beeps, dings, and whistles competed with the shouts of excitement and laughter as Emily Taylor looked down on the brightly colored scene spread out below. From her spot in the softly rocking car at the top of the Ferris wheel, she enjoyed the cool evening breeze ruffling her hair, recently cut in face-framing layers. The sun was putting on a display to rival the festive carnival booths and rides, streaking the sky with every shade of red, purple, and gold. Emily craned her neck to see how far she could see behind her, but as the car shifted with her movement, a white-knuckled hand grasped hers.

"Don't move," her seat-companion whispered, barely moving his lips.

Emily turned her hand so that their fingers linked, but she had to chuckle. "Tad, if you're so afraid of heights, why did you agree to ride the Ferris wheel with me?"

I figured the company would be worth it." Tad gingerly turned his head just far enough to meet her eyes. His smile was a bit on the sickly side, but Emily still felt her heart take a quick spin of its own. Leaning toward him as slowly as possible so as to not cause any unnecessary motion, she laid her lips on Tad's. His mouth curved in a smile under hers, and she sank into the kiss, wondering still at the fact that they were now a couple. As a freshman in high school, she would have killed for such a moment as this with Tad, but he, an important senior, had never seen her as anything more than an annoyance at worst, a substitute kid sister at best. Now, what felt like a lifetime later, but was closer to a decade in reality, they had both returned, after going their separate ways, to teach at their alma mater of Ellington High. A beautiful example of serendipity, Emily always thought.

Leaning back as the Ferris wheel began to move again, Emily asked, "Better?"

His eyes, the color of storm clouds, lit with mischief. "Maybe a little. But let's try that again just to be sure I'm okay." He leaned in for another kiss, but Emily laughed and held him back with a hand to his chest.

"I think you'll live. While we're still up high enough, I want to check on the booth."

Tad crossed his arms and exhaled a put-upon sigh. "I'm sure everything is fine. We haven't been gone fifteen minutes. Natalie's a responsible kid."

"I know, but I'm afraid the other two will have left her to do everything." Leaning forward, ignoring Tad's hands clamping down on the safety bar, she scoped out the English department's Whac-A-Mole booth. She could see Natalie handing out a stuffed replica of Poe's raven to a little boy who had just won. The boy turned to smile up at his mother, and Emily felt a glow of pride. Her students had done a great job coming up with their plan for the carnival. But where were the other two students who were supposed to be helping Natalie man the booth?

Her eyes scanned the crowd around their designated area, but she didn't see them anywhere. Looking behind the booth, she finally spotted the two teenagers, clinched in a lip lock.

"There!" Emily threw out her hand to point out the missing teens. "I told you they would leave everything to Natalie. When we get off this ride, Mr. and Ms. Hot Lips are going to get an earful!"

Tad touched her hand lightly and said, "Methinks the lady doth move too much."

Emily whipped her head around, ready to fire off a comeback, but the gray color of his face had her leaning back to stop the rocking of the car. "Sorry," she said. "I just can't stand it when the kids take advantage like that."

Tad leaned his head over on hers. "I know, Pit. But with Rylan and Brittney, you can't be too surprised." She quirked her eyebrow, and he added, "Maybe he was afraid down there on the ground, so she was trying to make him feel better. Worked for me."

Emily laughed, just as she knew Tad wanted her to. He always seemed to be able to make her laugh, which was just one of the things she appreciated about him. She could have done without the Pit—short for pit bull—a nickname he had given her years ago. As if reading her mind, Tad said, "Sorry, Em. Forgive me?" He leaned in for another kiss, but just as their lips met, they heard yelling from the ground.