Death Stretch (23 page)
I gathered my determination. “You're the brave one, Ginger.”
“Me?” She laughed. “Give me a break. You're never afraid to tell people what you think.”
“Sure, but I never tell them how I feel. You do, and that takes real courage.” Before I could chicken out, I inhaled a breath and continued. “I love you, Ginger. You're my best friend and I never want to lose you. Ever. I'd do anything to protect you and our friendship.”
She didn't bother wiping moisture from her cheeks. “I know. That's why I asked you for help. I knew you'd have my back. In exchange, I almost got you killed.”
“Cripes. Give me a break. Flash and I hated each other from the get go. She would've gone after me all on her own.”
That was probably true. I had a feeling Flash had thrown me into the mix for two reasons. First, to get back at Ginger for taking Morgan away. Sending Ginger's friend to jail on a murder charge would fit that picture. Second, because we had hate at first look. Or vice versa.
“Ahem.” Dirk stood at the door. “Sorry to interrupt but that was the hospital. Brandi Wells will pull through.”
The news seemed anticlimactic.
I caught Dirk's alert stance. “Okay.”
He frowned. “That's it? That's all you have to say?”
I summoned my new emotional courage. “I know that you will find enough evidence to send her away for years. You'll make sure she goes down for murder and two counts of attempted murder. Or is it three?” I forced myself back on track. “Doesn't matter how many.”
I took a deep breath and looked straight at him. “I trust you.” I paused. “With my life.”
You could have punctured the atmosphere with a garden stake. Ginger moved away and Dirk took her place at my side, but their moves were nothing more than blurred motion. Tears welled in my eyes and my usual blinking didn't bat them away. Not that I tried hard.
I heard the door click shut but Dirk had already moved to spoon me. He placed his chin on my shoulder. His breath tickled my ear. “Once you make up your mind, you don't waste time, do you?”
“Life's too unpredictable.” My parents' death taught me that in middle school and Flash just finished a refresher course.
“I trust you too.”
My body relaxed into his. Trust. We had a starting place.
****
Ginger had my back, but I moved pretty well. Considering. We shuffled into the Chocolate Fix arm-in-arm like two old ladies.
Mona slid a tray holding truffles into her glass-fronted sales case. She straightened and began a round of applause picked up by her customers.
Several of the women looked familiar. My feeling was that more than one had been entangled with Morgan. I hadn't killed him, but encouraging the blackmail victims to come forward had saved them all. That act I could get behind without apology.
Ginger guided me to a table, where I eased into a chair. I didn't think we'd be able to stay long. The iron chairs were cute but not so comfy. She walked to the counter and placed our order.
Mona followed Ginger back to the table carrying a plate of truffles and a mug. She set both down with nothing more than a slight click.
“Here you go. On the house.”
She pushed the mug closer. “Lemon tea. For your throat.”
A sip lubricated my sore pipes. “Thanks.”
The older woman waved away my words. “You deserve more than tea, but I'd get busted for serving Champagne without a license.”
I couldn't hold back my grin. The mug she'd served me didn't hold lemon tea. Bubbles had tickled the back of my throat when I swallowed.
Around the room, women raised their mugs in silent tribute. I almost couldn't swallow my next sip of “tea.” I'd just been in the right place at the wrong time. They'd bared their humiliating stories to the cops. No comparison.
Mona popped a truffle. She chewed, licked her fingers and sipped from her mug. “Have you heard any news on the Flash Front?”
“Dirk told me she heard the Miranda when she came to this morning.”
Ginger's mug landed with a clatter. “Did she have a lawyer waiting at her bedside?”
My friend sounded a little testy. “I don't think she had time to call one. She'd better get someone from Charlotte, though. Maybe further out.”
“A designer attorney.” Ginger snapped her fingers. “I've been meaning to tell you. Remember the lipstick color we tried to match at Nordstrom's?”
“Um, yeah?”
“My cosmetic consultant called this morning. The shade is PowPowRed.” Ginger waved her hand. “The shade had limited sales in this area. And guess who bought a tube?”
Mona and I exchanged glances. We answered simultaneously. “Flash.”
“You got it.” She chose a truffle but couldn't hide a triumphant grin. “Oh, I'm sorry, Mona, you may not know about—”
“The kitchen destruction.” Mona nodded. “Yeah, I heard the story. So Flash trashed your house, Katie?”
Ginger swallowed and answered for me. “Yes.” She contemplated the plate of chocolates but drank instead.
Mona chose another truffle. “Too bad you can't place her at the scene.”
“Au contraire.” Ginger gloated, a look I hadn't seen on her face before. “The lipstick is circumstantial, but it fits. I kept the rag I used to wipe down your fridge. Maybe there's DNA.”
I figured a charge of B&E and malicious destruction of property was small potatoes compared to murder and attempted murder, but an exercise that'd bring me a world of satisfaction.
Mona saluted Ginger with her mug and drank. “Why'd she use something so distinctive to leave the message?”
“It was last year's shade. She figured no one would recognize the color.”
No wonder we hadn't been able to match hues when we went to Nordstroms. The world of the rich. Using a thirty-dollar lipstick to leave a threat.
Ginger frowned. “She began rumors that you’d done the damage yourself. Folks around town know you've got a bit of a temper. No doubt she thought the police wouldn't look further.”
Mona jumped in. “She spread stories and pulled strings to make your arrest a sure thing. Sneaky.”
She looked at me. “But not as smart as you.” She stood. “Gotta get back behind the counter. See me before you leave. The ladies chipped in and bought you a little thank you gift.”
****
Ginger used both hands to lift the heavy shopping bag from the Chocolate Fix. The ladies' “little gift” included three boxes of the largest truffle selections Mona sold. They'd also thrown in a small hand painted hat made of solid chocolate. We'd be in sugar overload for weeks. I couldn't wait to open the first box.
Ginger shook her head. “Sick woman.”
“Who, me? All I want is to open one of those boxes.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not you. Flash.”
I crossed my two forefingers in a banish sign. “Don't say that. She could get off on an insanity plea.”
“Don't be so sure of that.” Dirk and Matt stood at the screen door.
Ginger waved them in. “Would you like tea, Detectives? Cookies?” She gathered mugs and arranged a plate of cookies.
I waited until everyone had settled in then repeated the question. “Why do you think Flash won’t get off on an insanity plea?”
“We found traces of ricin in her potting shed. That proves pre-meditation in Anderson's murder. When Nash heard we arrested Brandi Wells for his partner's murder, he turned state's evidence. The DA reviewed the evidence this morning. He's going after her with no plea bargaining.”
“So your boss is finally off my back?”
Matt snorted. “Not really.”
Dirk smirked. “Are you sure you don't know him?”
“I give up. What's his name?”
“Thomas Fortune.”
Ginger gasped. “Tommy? Tubby Tommy is your boss? I don't believe it.” She nudged me in the ribs. “You remember Tommy, right?”
“Crap.” I buried my face in my hands. Oh, sure, I knew Tommy. I'd stood him up the night of our high school prom. It wouldn't take long for Ginger to remember.
“Katie! Didn’t you stand him up on prom night?”
Dirk interrupted before I could answer. “I knew it.”
I peeked at him from between my fingers. “Will you be in hot water now that he knows we're dating?”
Matt laughed. “You're kidding, right? Johnson's been in hot water since he started with the force.”
Dirk growled in response. He held out his hand to me. “Let's take a walk.”
I stood, took his hand and we walked toward Ginger's manicured rose garden. The warm air brought out a medley of aromas created by dozens of rose plants. Bees buzzed and silence lay between us.
“Your job isn't in jeopardy because of me, is it?”
“No.”
“Because I don't want to stand in your way or put your career at stake.”
“My job's fine.”
I exhaled. “Good. That's good.”
He put his arm over my shoulders and pulled me against his side. We walked a few more yards, bumping hips occasionally. We stopped under a shade tree and faced each other. He cupped my chin in his palms.
“There's only one thing at stake here.” He bent and kissed me. When he pulled away, he said, “Us.”
He cleared his throat. “What do you think? Want to take a chance? On me?”
I pulled out my newfound emotional courage to answer him. “Yes, I'll take a chance on you.”
He exhaled. “That makes us even then.”
I nodded. “Partners.”
His lips stopped a hair’s breadth from mine. “What do you mean, partners?”
“Well, I knew Flash was bad news from the get go. You wouldn't listen to me. I'd have arrested her right away.”
“Without proof?”
I waved my hand and his logic away. “So I figured you could tell me about your cases and I'd tell you what my gut reaction is.”
“No way.”
“Way.”
“I don't have time for this.” He captured my lips in a mind-stealing kiss.
I forgot what we'd been talking about, but it didn't matter.
I'd get what I wanted or I wasn’t Katie Sheridan.
A word about the author...
Ashantay Peters loves escaping into a well-written book. Her reading addiction also has her perusing magazines, newspapers, Internet articles, and even food labels. The last is often feebly excused as an attempt to maintain health, but her friends know the truth.
She lives in the mountains of western North Carolina, a happy transplant from the much colder (and flatter) Midwest.
Contact the author at
www.ashantay.com
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