Number's Up

  “What is happening in this town? First Lark’s body parts problem—”

  “I don’t have a body parts problem,” Lark interrupted, only to be ignored.

  “—then that awful murder up at the resort, and now a break in at your house. What is the world coming to?”

  “Not to mention poor Bon, the horse that was murdered.” Lark growled under her breath.

  “I don’t know. I’m sure it’s nothing,” I murmured, ignoring Lark, and keeping in mind that anything I said would go straight to Lindsey. More vodka. Hmm. Glad I spent the money and got the good stuff. Less burning when taking hits directly from the bottle. Score one for the vodka tasting sessions Lark dragged me to.

  “Nothing? Nothing? This has to be connected. What would they be looking for?” Sallie Mae lifted up on her tippy toes, straining as if she might be able to answer her questions if she looked hard enough.

  “You know, she’s right,” Lark said, slowly.

  “You have a body parts problem?” I snapped. The alcohol was finally starting to kick in and my anxiety was less screaming and more giving a low murmur of “My life is ending.”

  “No, the murder and the break-in have to be connected,” Lark said, ignoring my sarcasm.

  “But the FBI has been through my entire house this morning. There is nothing there. Who is stupid enough to break into my house after the FBI leaves?” I rolled my eyes at the idea.

  That stumped both of them.

  “Jen, why was the FBI searching your house again? I thought you dealt with the whole insider trading thing. Wasn’t that how the two of you got kidnapped?” Sallie Mae demanded.

  Evidently, they had been stumped for different reasons. Hmm, probably should have waited to start drinking until after the gossip left.

  “Because my business partner’s son is a criminal,” I said under my breath.

  “The kidnapping wasn’t related. That was because I have a big mouth and can’t stand not knowing why I failed at being fabulous,” Lark told her at the same time.

  Oops. I shouldn’t have said that out loud. I looked over at Sallie Mae. She was pulling out her phone. Yep. I don’t know which comment she was going to text first, but I really would appreciate mine not making it.

  “Please don’t tell Lindsey,” I asked, pulling out my best pleading face.

  “But this is big,” she told me. “Barrow Bay deserves to know.”

  Lark rolled her eyes at that, but I kept Sallie Mae’s gaze, hoping the addition of my lower lip might sway her in my favor.

  “Which?” I asked, hoping maybe Lark’s big mouth would win.

  “Both,” she replied, before frowning at Lark. “Although, Lark having a big mouth isn’t really anything new.”

  “I was being flippant. The truth is that it was my partner. The one that got shot. And he’s dead, and I’m the only one left and I don’t have a job anymore, and... and please don’t tell her.” I was ready to get on my knees. Or let her have my extremely expensive vodka. I was hoping she wouldn’t take it that far.

  “Fine. I need someone to take me to the sewing circle next month. Benny took my license.”

  “Yes. I will,” I assured her.

  And bless Benny for taking it, because she was a hazard on the road.

  “You know, the only reason to break in would be because something changed from then to now,” Lark said, still musing on my break-in issue. “Did anything change?”

  I glared at her and then tilted my head at Sallie Mae. I wasn’t getting into more trouble than I already was.

  “Honestly, she has a devious criminal mind. Tell us,” Lark encouraged.

  Sallie Mae seemed proud of Lark’s comments.

  Crazy people. This town is full of crazy people. Swig.

  “Three months. And I will keep your secret. Tell me.” Sallie Mae offered with a shrewd smile.

  “Two months. No more.” She seemed pretty eager to know my issues. Negotiation seemed key.

  “Deal. Tell me,” she snapped.

  “Well, after the FBI left, I came home and watched some movies. Cried a bit. Contemplated how”—pathetic I was. I edited that out— “this could have happened. Then I left for the worst date I’ve had in a while with Donald Watts.”

  “Dorothy’s grandson? The worthless one? Why would you do that?” Sallie Mae asked.

  Worthless? She set me up with the worthless one? Another swig.

  “Because Dorothy asked,” I told her.

  She looked at me with her face scrunched up in confusion. “That doesn’t make any sense. You are getting the hot new head of security. We picked him special for you. You two were so cute the last time he was here. She must have done it to make Nic jealous. Worked with Brecken.”

  I blinked.

  Nope. I couldn’t deal with that right now.

  “How did you guys—”

  “Nope,” I cut Lark off. “We are not going to ask the why right now.”

  “Why not?” Lark whispered.

  “Because I don’t know that I can handle it. Moving on.” Swig. Hmm. This bottle was going down fast.

  “I don’t think I can. I mean, how do they pick them? Is there a catalog somewhere with men who are looking for a change? Is there an Amazon-like site where they can post men who need a new life? Have they gone digital? Or maybe it’s like a job posting? We have this job opening and this single girl… please apply here? I need to know,” she whispered back.

  I gave her a look that told her to keep her mouth shut.

  “So, you went on a date? Must have been an early one since you’re back already. It’s not even seven. In my day we were out until nine at least,” Sallie Mae commented.

  “Horrible. He was drunk. Told me how he knew my partner, the one who died. It was weird because he kept asking if Henry had ever mentioned him. Which he hadn’t. I didn’t know Donald was a customer at all, or I would have never gone on a date with him.”

  “Donald asked Dorothy to set it up,” Lark told Sallie Mae.

  “So, the worthless grandson asked to be set up on the date and you're still home by seven?” Sallie Mae asked.

  She was a great-grandmother. I was being judged by a great-grandmother. And coming up on the side of pathetic. I took another swig.

  “I started to make my excuses, then he asked what time it was. When I told him, he said, ‘Perfect,’ and told me goodbye. After I had to listen to him try to explain to me what an Operations Manager is. Seriously. And the comments about how I’m smart. It was painful.”

  “So, he set you up to not be in your house tonight, and let you leave after he asked the time?” Sallie Mae looked thoughtful as she waited for my response.

  “What?” I asked. She sounded like she knew something. Which shouldn’t be possible. I mean, she was like eighty. Shouldn’t I be more in the know?

  I looked down at the bottle. I was out-cooled by a woman with no driver’s license, twice in a minute. I should probably stop drinking.

  “Well, I had a friend back in the day. She got set up like that by a couple of con artists. One would ask a girl out on a date and the other would rob the girl’s house while they were out.”

  “But Donald has more money than I do,” I protested.

  “What else could they want?” Lark asked.

  “I don’t know. I want to think that it’s about Henry’s case, but I don’t have anything. And if I did, I would have given it to the FBI this morning,” I snapped.

  “Well, that's good to know,” a deep voice came from behind me.

  I jumped and screamed. “Seriously? You snuck up on someone who just had their house broken into?” I swung around and gave Nic the evil eye. “Also, where is your car?” Because there was no way I missed it driving up. I was far from sober, but I wasn’t that drunk.

  “I walked. I was getting dinner.” He looked at the house, escaping eye contact.

  Hmm, could he have been trying to spy on my date? Because that would be cute.

  Or... that might
count as stalking. Was stalking allowed to be cute? Was I supporting negative stereotypes by thinking his actions were adorable? Stop. Not important.

  Also, that had to be a drunk deduction jump. There were a lot of reasons he could be in town. Dinner, being the biggest. Since he said it, and everything.

  “Someone broke into my house,” I told him, still glaring.

  “I see that.” He studied the front door before swinging his gaze back to me. “Any idea why?”

  “No.” I had started to sound whiny. Time to put away the vodka. But first, one more swig.

  “We think they wanted something in relation to the case,” Sallie Mae told him.

  I committed to two months of driving for nothing. Lindsey would know before the hour was out since, apparently, Sallie Mae couldn’t keep her mouth shut. I really was stupid. No more drunk negotiations. That was rule one of CPA negotiation class: No drinking and negotiating. I didn’t know what I was thinking.

  Although, now that I thought about it, there hadn’t been that class in college. Or a rule. But there should’ve been.

  “But we searched the house. What could you have that is worth breaking into your house to get?” he asked, studying the front door, which was half open, taunting me.

  Hah. Good to know it wasn’t just me. He was just as clueless.

  “Maybe we should go in and look to make sure it wasn’t just a normal break-in before we jump to conclusions?” I asked. Who knows, coincidences could happen.

  “That seems like less fun,” Sallie Mae muttered.

  Great. Barrow Bay’s own Jessica Fletcher. Before we knew it, we would be this generation’s Murder She Wrote. I refused. That town was dangerous.

  “When John and his team have cleared it,” Nic said, laughing at Sallie Mae’s complaints.

  John pulled up at that moment, leading a team of three regular officers that I didn’t recognize. Lark, however, waved hi to one.

  “Hey, Zach,” she yelled out. “Gran has more of your tea for you.”

  He turned white and walked quickly into the house, barely waiting for the cue.

  We all looked over at her, and she shrugged, pretending not to know about the wide grin on her face. “He pushed me out of a car to avoid Gran once. I don’t forget those things.”

  Snorting, I looked back at my house, waiting for the all clear. It took a few minutes, but John came out and waved us forward.

  The four of us walked up the walkway, Nic leading, followed by me, then Lark and finally Sallie Mae, who I had given up any chance of getting to leave. Again, I could hear the click of my shoes on the cement, but for the first time, I wasn’t soothed by it. It was like they were mimicking the beating of my heart. Thump. Click. Thump. Click. Thump. Click.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t go in.” Where did my alcohol go? Why did I put it away? Worse, I think I handed it and my food to Lark. Stupid idea.

  Nic turned around. “It’s all clear. No one's in there.”

  “What if my stuff is ruined? I don’t know if I could take that tonight. I reached delicate flower levels of stress when I saw the door broken into.”

  “Delicate flower?” He gave me a clueless look.

  “There are levels of how well I can take bad news. Most days I’m rolling with it. I’m good at rolling with it. I’m trained to roll with anything life throws at me and turn it around. Bad days, I shop. Today? Today if I take one more hit, I might break. Hence delicate flower.”

  “Okay.” He scanned my face. “Do you want me to go look for you?”

  “Yes.” Then he could break it to me softly. While I drank myself into happy Jen. Where that girl went to, I didn’t know.

  He turned and went through the front door. I could hear him talking with John, but not what they were saying, and he came out looking grim. Too grim.

  “No.” I threw a hand up. “I don’t want to hear it. Everything is trashed, isn’t it? It wasn’t enough that I’m losing my business and my business partner? Now I’ve lost my stuff, too?”

  “Jen.” Lark interrupted. “Yoga.”

  Breathe. She was reminding me to breathe. Because when my anxiety goes crazy, I go crazy. But I was better at handling it if I remembered to breathe. Or, at the very least, breathing kept me from passing out.

  I could breathe. Breathing was easy. I could handle it if I just kept breathing.

  “Okay. Tell me,” I told him.

  “You sure?” He scanned my face a little more before stepping closer and giving me a hug.

  Oh, my. I let myself wilt into his arms, taking his comfort and wrapping myself into his warmth. It took me a few moments to notice how flat his stomach was, and how it was pressed against me, letting me feel his abs. Plural. I was getting a little dizzy from that thought. I could feel his hand rubbing my back, sending shivers down to my— well, maybe I should step away before this got more awkward in front of one of the town’s biggest gossips.

  My arms were going to let go any day now. Any day. And then I would pick my head up off his chest where it rested on a pectoral that was swoon-worthy. Which I was about to do. Swoon. A good reason to stay right where I was. Since swooning would be embarrassing.

  Okay, I wasn’t giving this up any time soon. Might as well just try the conversation.

  “I can take it,” I told him. Well, I told his shirt.

  “The house was searched, but there is no damage, and nothing taken that we can see,” he told me, quietly.

  “What?” Well, that was good news. Why did he look so grim? I pulled my head away to get a better look.

  “So, they were looking for something?” Lark asked.

  “Was it something to do with the murder?” Sallie Mae added.

  “We don’t know,” Nic said, pulling away enough that he could see my face as well. “What changed? What could you have that we might have missed?”

  “I don’t know.” I scanned my memories. “There was nothing.”

  “There had to be something,” Sallie Mae pointed out.

  “If there was, I don’t know what it is,” I told Nic.

  “We need to search your house again.”

  Great. “Where am I sleeping tonight, then?”

  “With me,” Lark volunteered.

  No way. Never going to happen. I needed sleep.

  “I will get a room at the resort,” I said quickly. “No offense, Lark, but your cottage only has two bedrooms, and both you and Hailey snore.”

  She laughed. “We really do,” she told Sallie Mae.

  “Great!” Sallie Mae beamed at me.

  I didn’t know why she was so excited. My eyes narrowed. Irrational happiness from anyone in the Sewing Circle made me suspicious.

  “Nic? Could you take her there?” Sallie Mae blinked up at him, her face hopeful.

  “Um, I need to stay here—” Nic looked back at John, trying to gauge what they were doing.

  “I mean, her house was just broken into. They could come after her next. She should be protected with a police escort.”

  “He’s with the FBI, Sallie Mae,” I pointed out. And after that, she was on her own. She didn’t keep the secret, so I wasn’t keeping my promise.

  “Even better. The FBI is even better than the police, right?”

  “I heard that,” John called out from my doorway. “The FBI is not better than the police. We are the bomb.”

  “Bomb squad,” Nic muttered.

  “What was that, FBI boy?” John called out again. “Come and say it to my face.”

  “Okay then.” I interrupted what I was sure would be a long discussion of the merits of traditional policing versus federal. “I think that I can make it to the resort by myself, but thank you for offering someone else to take me, Sallie Mae.” Wow. Politeness took a weird turn there. I repeated it in my head checking for the drunk factor. Nope. That was right. Huh.

  Sallie Mae shook her head and leaned close, like she was going to whisper, before speaking in normal tones. “But we brought him for you. You need to spend
time with him to catch him. You're too old to believe in that magic pussy nonsense. Chemistry is mental, honey. And you have got to show him that the two of you have it.”

  Lark doubled over, laughing so hard she was having trouble standing up. I grabbed the food and alcohol out of her hands before she broke it. Nic was alternating between blushing and turning white, which would have been fascinating, if my mind wasn’t trying to sort through everything that was just said. “Magic pu—" no. No, I couldn’t go there. Not with someone old enough to be my grandmother. Great-grandmother. Just no. I couldn’t believe she just said the p-word.

  “What books have you been reading?” I had to, because, well, it had to be asked. I mean, I could think of a few candidates, but I was struggling to picture sweet, nosy, retired schoolteacher, Sallie Mae reading them. I needed a drink at that thought.

  “I’m old, Jen. Not dead. I can read naughty books too,” Sallie Mae replied, arching one brow at me as if challenging me to say anything.

  No way. I was already regretting the picture of us reading the same books. Not that I read a lot of books. I gripped my alcohol tighter.

  Right. Vodka. Tequila. Happy drunk.

  “Lark…” I whispered. Maybe she could drive me to the resort. Without making any references to magic anything.

  “You remember when I needed someone to come with me to Gran’s dinner and you bailed? And Brecken ended up coming instead? And I somehow ended up being sold off as unconventional benefits?” Lark gleamed wickedly.

  That girl had a memory like an elephant. How was it that she never remembered people’s names?

  Shit. “I can drive myself.” I only had a few sips of the lemon drop before leaving. I would be fine to drive. I looked down. And half a bottle of straight vodka. Not so much.

  “Escort,” Sallie Mae said, glaring at Nic.

  Nic looked to still be in shock from the way his mouth hung open and he glanced from person to person.

  “Fine,” I caved. “Nic, you’re driving.” I started walking toward my car, pulling my keys out of my purse.

  “God, yes.” Came the response from behind me before his body moved past mine in the rush to get to the driver’s side door.

  Maybe I could get started on more alcohol. I stopped and looked down at the bottle of vodka in my hands.