The Lush Life (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8) (12 page)

BOOK: The Lush Life (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8)
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Chapter 35

 

A Sense Of Humor?

 

Now working in the great room and sorting through the books, my senior trio were proving to be invaluable when it came to deciphering and relegating what books were worth separating from the others.

Betty handed one to Martha. “All those years Hazel and I worked in Clay’s Aunt Jenny’s bookshop helps big time.”

“From being librarians to Jenny then Clay,” said Hazel.

Martha opened another book. “Let’s hope that pays off and we don’t miss something we shouldn’t.”

“I know, I’d hate to have a redo on this room,” I said.

“It could happen. That’s why we shouldn’t rush through this process. We have to be thorough,” said Hazel.

Betty looked up. “Has anyone seen Lucas around?”

We couldn’t afford a repeat visit. He’d get suspicious.

“I pulled the plug on the garage opener,” said Martha.

“That was risky,” I said. “You could’ve fallen.”

“There was no hesitation on my part. I knew all the risks involved. But I appreciate your concern.”

“Ha!” said Hazel. “She didn’t say that when she asked me to do it instead. She knows I despise heights. I could’ve landed on the Jeep’s canvas ragtop and broken something.”

“Yeah, like the Jeep’s roof,” laughed Martha.

“We have weightier issues to deal with,” chided Betty.

Martha chuckled. “Hard to ignore the obvious.”

“You’re comportment! Such ignominy!” Hazel scolded.

Martha turned to me. “Hey, did she just swear at me?”

I was about to say something when the doorbell buzzed. I turned to stare out the great room doors directly across from the foyer to the front door. It rang again.
What now?

“Another guest? We’re flush with a full house already
.

“You don’t suppose...” said Betty.

“Now, what are the chances...?” Hazel asked.

The third time it rang I found my legs and moved.

Martha grabbed her phone. “I’m taking a picture.”

“Good,” said Hazel. “Or the others won’t believe this.”

“What if it’s
Tony’s
crazy mother?” warned Betty.

“Grab that heavy dictionary,” ordered Martha, pointing.

“And hide behind the front door with it,” added Hazel.

“Don’t get carried away, ladies,” I said unconvincingly.

Martha smacked her forehead. “What was I thinking? I forgot. People don’t get shot at in broad daylight, do they?”

“Touché,” I said, remembering my close warning shot.

I whispered over to Hazel, “Go grab a large vase.”

When everyone was in place, I opened the door slowly.

A deliveryman asked, “Are you Samantha Jamison?”

After I nodded, he handed me a blood-red vase filled with one dozen red roses. “...Uh, thanks,” I stammered.

He chuckled. “This sender has a real sense of humor.”

I shut the door then read the card out loud.

“Roses R red, Violets R blue. Bang! I almost got U.”

“Just what I needed before my interview with Scarlett.”

 

 

Chapter 36

 

Interview Interrupted

 

First thing I noted, Scarlett was anxious. Her foot was tapping a mile a minute on the floor, as she kept glancing down to reread from her notepad resting on her lap. Why the unease? I was the one being scrutinized here. Or did she think she was? Was she worried I was analyzing her?
Was Scarlett a potential suspect?
With several mysteries under my belt, I noticed I had that effect on people. She did admit it was her first interview with an author of my stature.

My stature? I had to laugh at that. No pretention here.

I did just fine as an author. I had a great agent, terrific editor, and a reliable publisher. I wrote for my enjoyment and my readers, who loved my mysteries and blog posts, leaving enthusiastic comments on my website.

With that in mind, I said, “I’m ready when you are.”

Scarlett gave me an eager smile. “Why mysteries?”

So I explained about my husband Stephen’s suspicious death, the unanswered questions I wanted explained, doing my own investigation, how I couldn’t move on until I knew the why of it all...

“Was there any apprehension or reluctance about taking on that task by yourself and what you might uncover?”

“At first, yes, but then the more I dug into his past, the more I learned about myself, as well as our relationship. It was a learning curve I never would have experienced if I didn’t take a leap of faith about my own ability in solving the mystery. I always took a backseat to my husband. With him gone I had no choice but to sit in the driver’s seat. It was self-enlightening to say the least.”

“What did you gain from that?”

“Self-respect and self-confidence.”

“Were you ever plagued with self-doubt at any time?”

I laughed. “Just about every time I bungled an interview or blew an opportunity when it fell in my lap.”

“What did you lose from that experience?”

I smiled. “I lost my helpless attitude.”

“What did you gain?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Insane and crazy friends I cherish.”

“I notice how you tend to sit back, listen, and constantly watch people.”

“I’m always looking for dialogue, deceit, and evasion.”

“So when you’re solving a mystery, that helps?”

“Absolutely. You’d be surprised how people trip up.”

“In what way?”

“Can’t keep their lies straight, get overconfident...”

“Like you explain in your mystery series.”

“Exactly. I’m always watching how people react.”

“To what?”

“When I push the parameters of their safety zone.”

Scarlett laughed. “Do you have a safety zone of your own?”

“I have a line in the sand that gets redrawn daily.”

“Who’s shocked most at the end? You? Your suspect?”

This time I laughed. “My readers!”

Okay, so I lied. Even I’m shocked sometimes...

Scarlett’s cell rang. She glanced at it, frowned and said, “Excuse me. I
must
take this call.”

 

 

Chapter 37

 

Deja
Vu Revisited

 

I left her, and wandered outside. I chose the small, black, wrought iron bistro table for two located just outside the kitchen windows adjacent to the shelter of the
porte
cochere
in the shadows of the house. Although protected, it gave me a magnificent view of all the rear gardens and remaining back property.

Since the weather was sunny and breezy I grabbed my laptop to sit and take some notes while sipping a glass of iced tea. Robins and Blue Jays constantly chirping and an occasional whinny from the horses next door in their corral completed my backdrop.

Besides, I wasn’t stupid. That table was a whole lot safer than walking out in open areas and more preferable than sitting in Alicia’s office. After settling in, I began typing some notes.

What was so urgent to cut Scarlett’s interview short?

You’d think Scarlett would have ignored that call. That meant maybe my interview wasn’t that high on her list of accomplishments. Who was it? My mindset on this woman needed tweaking. Originally, I felt sure she was duped, but after that unfinished interview I wasn’t so convinced.

What was
Tony’s
real motive?

To distract us or motivate us to find that book for him?

Who sent those red roses and that note?

The emails, texts, and delivered red roses: untraceable. Earlier, I had checked with the florist’s two busy clerks. Someone came into the shop, ordered the flowers, and paid cash. The customer had worn sunglasses, hat, bulky clothes, and, according to them, was totally unrecognizable. Neither were sure about gender. The buyer whispered it was a practical joke and that I’d find their note humorous.

I paused and stared down at my keyboard to my laptop, noticing for the first time I’d worn the edges off the keys of my colon, my comma, my period, and my question mark.

Hmm... Symbolic of my life, I guess: another paradox!

I was still brooding when someone spoke, startling me.

“Mind if I join you?”

I nearly knocked my tea onto my keyboard.

“Don’t you have a home?” I said, surprised to see him.

Tony sat across from me with his own iced tea.

“Clay canceled our plans to meet me here. Some kind of emergency. Martha offered iced tea, thinking I needed to chill out about my mother and all.”

I felt like asking him what
and all
was.
That book?
Me?
But then, knowing Tony, I figured he’d get to that sooner or later. Though seldom vague, most of the time he kept it on the money. Now, he was taking his sweet old time.

I laughed at my own unintentional pun.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“I’m sitting across from you, drinking iced tea, and for once no money or gun is involved between us.”

He lip curled up slightly. “Hey, the day is still young.”

“I need protection, not sarcasm. I’m wearing a target.”

“I heard,” Tony said, sipping more of his tea.

He looked up, then smiled when I said, “You’ve been eavesdropping.”

Still skittish about being out in the open, but craving it, I kept scanning the perimeter of the back area.

I caught Tony watching me intently. He was reading my thoughts about his mother being behind this.

“Don’t worry. She won’t shoot. I’m too close to you.”

My eyes jerked to him. “So she’s not
that
good.”

Tony laughed then turned serious. “Look, we both know we’re talking about my mother, who’s still on the loose.”

Was my last mystery about art fraud still an issue?

“I had nothing to do with her losing her money!”

“Don’t take it so personal. She just went crazy.”

“But I don’t like being at the top of her get-even list.”

“We won’t know that for sure until we find her, right?”

“It’s amazing both of you got off on a technicality.”

Tony began scanning the area too. “Hey, we didn’t kill anyone. Don’t be so jumpy. I’m here and I’m still her son.”

“Her favorite one?” I asked, taking another sip of tea.

“Her only one. A hit to me would shave off her lineage.”

“Is that important to her?”

“Sure. Especially since she cut down my old man.”

I set my glass down. “You’re joking.”

“It was accidental. At least that’s what she told me.”

And her definition of accidental?
“What happened?”

“She claims he got caught in her crosshairs.”

“Her crosshairs?”

“Her intended target.”

I was almost afraid to ask
. “And who was her target?”

“My mother thought his mistress was a robber attacking him in their bed. Said it reminded her of that old proverb.”

I knew I’d regret it, but asked anyway.
“Which one?”

“That famous one: killing two birds with one stone.”

I sighed. “You think your mother is really crazy?”

“I don’t think, I know. But she’s still my mother.”

“How can I relax with her still out there?”

“Stick with me. I’m in the protection business.”

I was sure he was, being connected and all.

A loud twig snapped from near the corner of the garage. Tony put his finger to his lips, got up, placed his hand inside his jacket then silently took off in that direction. Was it his mother? I packed up and dashed inside, more than a little uneasy. Why was Tony suddenly protecting me? I waited for a full ten minutes from the safety of inside, peering out from the curtains, but Tony never returned.

I kept repeating,
book
and
suspect,
over and over...

Both were hiding in plain sight, weren’t they?

BOOK: The Lush Life (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 8)
2.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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