Double Shot (8 page)

“That little old black guy is a shark from way back,” Wilson said. “He has a record a mile long.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “A bunch of silly gambling misdemeanors from way back when he knew my fa—”

Oops.

Wilson stopped. “Your father?” he said and we all stopped. “Are you telling me Avis Sage knew your daddy?”

“Umm,” I answered and appealed to my friends for support. But they were both taking an inordinate interest in the storefront window of King’s Bakery and Confections.

“The display case is empty,” I pointed out, but they kept staring at it anyway. I gave up and told Wilson to have at it.

“Please tell me Avis Sage didn’t recognize you.”

“He didn’t recognize me. He hasn’t seen me since I was ten.” I pointed to my hair. “I have changed a bit since then.”

“You’re a little scary. You know that?”

“Maybe, but Mr. Sage certainly isn’t.”

“Avis Sage has a serious heart condition and huge medical bills. His health depends on him winning at that pool table. He couldn’t afford to be losing to Lupo. Or Hernandez.”

I thought about Avis. He was good, but dare I say, he had lost some of his edge over the decades?

“He wouldn’t have the strength to push dead bodies into those waterfalls,” I argued.

“Yeah, right,” Wilson said as we started walking again.

“Speaking of scary muscle men.” I was a tad sarcastic. “There’s always Kevin to consider.” I had to describe Kevin’s goatee and glasses before Candy and Karen even remembered him.

“The guy in sandals?” Karen asked. “That really does make him scary. Right, Jess?”

Okay, so men in sandals is one of my pet peeves. And much to my chagrin, Clarence, North Carolina is a city chock-full of men in sandals. Trust me, they all look ridiculous.

“What’s a quiet, unassuming guy like that doing at the Wade On Inn?” I asked. “He looks like he belongs in a library.”

“He does,” Wilson said. “Kevin Cooper’s a librarian at the University.”

“And Melissa Purcell’s a waitress at Hastie’s Diner,” Karen added as we moseyed our way back to Sullivan Street. “She invited us to visit her sometime.”

Wilson squeezed my hand. “Don’t even think about it,” he said before addressing Karen. “Keep on Melissa’s good side? She’s been a regular out there for as long as Avis Sage. There might even be some history between her and Fritz.”

“Right now she has her eyes on Spencer,” I said, and Karen asked if any woman didn’t.

“He is incredibly handsome,” I agreed, but Candy begged to differ.

“He’s creepy. He kept bragging about his wife’s money, at the same time that he’s hitting on me.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Spencer Erring’s married to a very rich woman,” Wilson explained. “Dixie Wellington-Erring’s family owns that chain of high-end grocery stores.”

“Wellington Market?” I asked. “They have a great selection of champagne.”

“So how was playing with Mr. Incredibly Handsome?”

I reported that Spencer’s a terrible player and an even worse gambler. “He lost a lot of money tonight.”

“His wife’s money.”

“The old ladies are also good at losing money,” I said. “They seem to take great pleasure in it.”

“Ethel Abernathy and Doreen Buxton.” Wilson identified the old ladies and went on to name their sons, George Abernathy and Paul Buxton. “As in A and B Developers,” he said ominously, and we all grimaced.

A and B is the largest real estate developer in the county. The company is always in the news or in court, fighting for permits to build this or that project. They seem bent on putting shopping malls and parking lots on every square-inch of open land.

“And you’re right, Jessie,” Wilson continued. “Ethel and Doreen are working on losing every nickel of the family fortunes before they die.”

“They’re just having fun,” I argued.

“Those old ladies started showing up at that bar, and now we’ve got two murders on our hands.”

“I can’t picture them tossing people into Shinkle Creek,” Karen said as we finally headed home.

“Ethel and Doreen are nothing but trouble,” Wilson insisted. “Their sons built Cotswald Estates Retirement Home to keep them safe. But since Ethel still drives, the old ladies venture out to the Wade On Inn whenever the mood strikes.”

“Who knows?” I said, feeling a sudden affection for the feisty old duo. “I might be tempted to do the same thing when I’m their age.”

“Something I can look forward to,” Wilson mumbled.

Chapter 9

Hard to imagine, but Puddles still had one more piddle left in him before we made it into our building. Even harder to fathom, Wilson still had the energy to nibble on my neck while I was trying to unlock my door.

I might have giggled in my complete state of exhaustion, but when he reached out to help me with the door handle, the image of him guiding Tiffany Sass’s cue stick flashed before me.

I slapped his hand away and twirled around. “I am tired,” I said firmly.

“We need to talk, Jessie.” He pointed down the stairs where we had dropped off my neighbors. “Alone,” he added.

I glanced at the stairwell. “Go to bed, Sweetie,” I called down. And sure enough, I heard Candy close her door.

“You can make us some tea,” I said. I led him inside and collapsed on a barstool at my kitchen counter. “I really am tired.”

He put on the kettle while I slipped off my shoes and gestured for Snowflake to join me.

“Okay,” I said as she hopped into my lap. “Let’s talk.”

“You can begin by explaining what possessed you to take along those two.” Wilson again pointed downward.

“Oh, probably genius.”

“Nice try, Jessie.” He set the tea cups on the counter. “You want to imagine my reaction when Kim Leary called to inform me she never signed up for protecting three civilians? ‘Three?’ I said to her. ‘What do you mean three?’ But I had a pretty good idea who she was talking about even before she described your partners in crime.”

He banged a teaspoon down. “‘It’s like trying to guard the Three Stooges,’ Kim told me.” He threw his hands in the air. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

“Are you,” I pointed across the counter, “actually accusing me,” I pointed to my innocent self, “of causing problems? You had to know I wasn’t going to set foot in the Wade On Inn alone. Especially after you made a point of emphasizing how dangerous it is.”

“We never agreed you should bring along an entourage.”

“Come on, Wilson. It would have looked mighty strange for a woman my age to wander in there all by herself. It would look like I was interested in a lot more than a pool game.”

I waited for an argument, but clearly he was unable to counter my very sound point.

I continued, “And even you can’t deny Candy and Karen pulled their own weight tonight. I wouldn’t have found out nearly as much on my own.”

The teapot whistled, and we both jumped.

“I will agree,” he said as he poured the water, “that your friends did a great job. Densmore and Sass will be busy for days following up on what they learned.”

“Sass?”

“But having three of you to protect has my people a little on edge. Can’t you see that, Jessie? I don’t have the staff for this.”

“Sass?”

“It makes Kim Leary’s job a whole lot harder.”

I sighed and gave up on getting any sort of response about Tiffany La-Dee-Doo-Da Sass.

“So this Kim person is the undercover cop who’s watching out for us?” I asked. “She’s cute as a button, by the way. I just love the Goldilocks disguise.”

“Excuse me?”

“No one would ever suspect she’s a cop. I felt extremely safe every time I peeked over at all those blond curls.”

It suddenly occurred to me that Kevin the quiet guy, the supposed librarian, was also one of Wilson’s people. Lord knows his gambling stakes were pathetic enough to be sponsored by the Clarence Police Department.

“I’m a bit less confident in Kevin Cooper,” I said. “I don’t see him protecting me if the culprit turns out to be Bobby or Henry. Or even Spencer for that matter.”

Wilson slid my tea across the counter. “Kevin’s a librarian, Jessie.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Would you stop worrying about who’s there to protect you? That’s my job, which you’ve now made a whole lot harder.”

I assured my beau I would be extremely careful not to blow anyone’s cover. “I won’t even speak to them unless I have to.” I winked at Snowflake. “I suppose I’ll just have to pay attention to Spencer Erring and his lovely dimples instead.”

“Which brings us to our good friend Candy.” Wilson leaned on the counter. “What does Carter think about his girlfriend hanging out at the Wade On Inn?”

“They broke up again.”

“What’s that, like the tenth time?”

“Apparently Carter doesn’t like dogs. But don’t be such a chauvinist, Wilson. Boyfriend or not, Candy has every right to spend her evenings any way she sees fit.”

“Candy Poppe causes a testosterone-induced riot wherever she goes. The woman needs a chaperone at the grocery store, for God’s sake.”

Okay, good point. Candy has been known to procure a date or two while browsing the produce aisle. I sipped my tea. And the dairy case.

“She had Karen and me chaperoning her tonight,” I offered.

“Gee, I feel so much better now.” Wilson stared at my rhinestone dog collar. “You’re having way too much fun with this.”

“I’m having too much fun? After that cozy little scene I witnessed between you and Tiffany, you’re accusing me of having too much fun?” Wilson tried to speak, but I was on a roll. “If you’re hiring chaperones, you might think about getting one for Tiffany Sass. Tiffany Sass!” I threw my hands up. “Sheesh!”

“What about Tiffany?” I kid you not—the man actually said those words.

“Do not toy with me, Wilson Rye. What’s going on between you and that girl?”

“Come on, Jessie. You know there’s nothing going on.”

We locked eyes. And I must admit that those baby blues, intense even in un-intense moments, were a little unnerving.“I saw you groping her,” I said. “Lord only knows what would have happened if I hadn’t arrived when I did.”

I looked at Snowflake, who was now sitting on the counter between us and following the argument. “You two were very close to getting yourselves arrested by one of your own officers.” Wilson started chuckling. “For lewd and licentious behavior,” I continued.

“Lewd and licentious? You’re overreacting, Jessie.”

I reminded my beau that I never overreact. “But I was tempted to take notes. You know, for my next book?” I squinted suspiciously. “And what kind of name is Tiffany Sass, anyway? She sounds like one of Adelé Nightingale’s heroines, for Lord’s sake.”

“She has the looks for it.”

I glared like I have never glared before.

“Jessie!” he said. “There is nothing going on between me and Sergeant Sass.” He leaned across the counter, but I backed away from an attempted kiss.

“First of all.” He stood back up. “The girl is young enough to be my daughter, as you keep reminding me. It would be completely unethical, even if I weren’t her supervisor. What do you take me for?”

“Dammit,” I mumbled.

“You have nothing to worry about.” Again, he tried sounding sincere. “I’m in—” he hesitated.

I folded my arms and continued glaring. “You’re in what, Wilson?”

He looked at Snowflake for support, but for once the cat seemed to be on my side. The two of us waited for an answer.

“I’m involved with you.” His voice had gotten all husky. “Very involved,” he added.

I decided to pet Snowflake.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he asked eventually.

I knew where his eyes were aimed, but I stifled a grin and jiggled my earrings. “They’re Candy’s. Do you like them?”

He frowned and continued staring at my chest.

“Remember we decided my diamonds would stand out too much at the Wade On Inn?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you what’s standing out, darlin.’ And it ain’t those earrings.”

“You’ve seen this sweater before.”

“That sweater,” he reached across the counter and brushed my newfound curves with the back of his hand, “has never looked like this before.”

I reminded my beau that women at the Wade On Inn tend to dress a little flashy. “So Candy suggested I wear my first-ever push up bra.” I leaned forward. “Do you like it?”

He took a deep breath. “Lord, give me strength.”

Eventually he looked up. “How much did you win tonight?”

“Not nearly enough to endure all the country music.” I hopped down from the barstool. “I need a shower,” I said and headed toward the bathroom.

“How much did you win, Jessie?” Wilson followed me. “I need to know for my report.”

I turned around at the tub and pulled off my sweater. “You better not be reporting this, Captain Rye.”

Chapter 10

Sarina Blyss couldn’t sleep for thinking of her handsome stranger. She lay in bed, gazing at the ceiling, and envisioning the kind gentleman who had given her a ride into town earlier that week. Oh, how she wished their journey had never ended!

But alas, they had arrived in St. Celeste. And what with making Mrs. Dickerson’s acquaintance, and being bustled into her dress shop, Sarina hadn’t the opportunity to thank the stranger, or even learn his name. Indeed, by the time she thought to turn and bid the gentleman goodbye, his carriage had disappeared.

Sarina discovered the reason for such haste when Mrs. Dickerson called her attention to her ripped bodice. Oh dear! What must the handsome stranger have thought? Sarina was ever so grateful when the older woman offered to mend the damage.

The kind lady guided her behind a screen and instructed her to disrobe. And all the while she sewed, the seamstress sputtered indignantly about dastardly scoundrels who were wont to take advantage of every pretty girl they had the honor to meet.

Hidden behind the screen, Sarina stifled a giggle. But then she realized Mrs. Dickerson was referring to her own handsome stranger. The woman thought that the stranger had—. That he had—. Oh, dear!

Sarina protested vehemently and insisted her stranger had been ever so kind, but Mrs. Dickerson refused to listen, or to enlighten her as to who the gentleman might be. She returned Sarina’s frock with a stern admonition to put the man completely out of her mind.