I hid a smile and went back to my research, trying to suss out who might have a grudge against Gigi. Or who she may have inadvertently offended. But Gigi was too good. Even a couple of times when she could have come down hard on a member who broke this rule or that one, she handled it with diplomacy and graciousness, never belittling anyone. And she somehow managed to make the member feel edified and very much a valued member of the group. Heads of state could learn a lot from her.
As far as wanting what Gigi had, Serinda was next in line to the throne of doyenne, so that would not be an incentive for anyone to hurt my grandmother. But both women were treated with the utmost reverence. No one seemed poised to take over their positions. Nor did anyone want to. If anything, the group would be lost without them.
A little while after Roane came in, Annette joined us. She snuck in and took the chair with the only-worn-a-day selection, pushing the clothes aside so she could squeeze into the overstuffed chair to work. She alternated between her notebook and laptop, making notes and jotting down ideas, and creating any number of new lists.
I resisted the urge to lean over to see what Roane was working on, but I did seem to be gravitating toward him. First by easing closer. Then by touching knees.
Not long after Annette came in, Gigi joined us as well. She took the freshly washed chair, pulled up an ottoman, and started tapping on her laptop as well.
Roane got up and made a fire in my fireplace. The giant room warmed up in no time. When he climbed back onto the bed, he sat even closer to me. Our elbows brushed every so often, and I realized I was in a special kind of heaven. I wanted every day for the rest of my life to be like this. Working with my family in front of a fire. The Waltons had the right idea.
The past few days had been long. And trying. And eye-opening. But here we were. Stronger than ever. Doing our thing.
Annette left first, mentioning something about getting us some lunch. Gigi left to help her. Roane left soon after that, but before he did so, he took my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist.
I could still feel the warmth of his mouth when I made my way downstairs a little while later. Annette was back with lunch. I found the receipt. She’d used my credit card, thank goodness. We were still working out how she was going to get paid at the moment. She had no income to speak of. Hopefully, Breadcrumbs, Inc. would be successful. Otherwise, we could both be living on the streets. Houseless creatures searching for sustenance and shelter.
Well, she would be. I’d inherited a fortune, which was another thing. I’d soon be able to hire a housekeeper. And a gardener. And a chauffeur named Jeeves who could drive a stick, because the Bug was a standard.
“This smells amazing.”
“Hopefully everyone’s good with Italian.”
“Who wouldn’t be?” I asked, grabbing a bowl for the salad. “Minerva texted. Leo is doing great. They’re saying it’s a miracle he didn’t lose his leg.”
“Oh, thank goodness.”
“She’s going to grab some things for him from his house. She still can’t go back to her own, what with it being a crime scene and all, so we might have to loan her a few things for now.”
“Okay, but she can’t have my Blue Oyster Cult T-shirt.”
“I think it’ll be safe. Anyway, I texted her back. A thumbs-up. Simple. Short. Almost elegant in its delivery.” I shook salad out of a package and into a bowl, noting she’d also bought new salad dressings, just in case ours had been doctored with a deadly poison or a high explosive.
Annette lifted out a foil pan of spaghetti bolognaise. “I’m so proud of you, Deph.”
“I know, right? Ever since I learned where to find the emojis, I’ve been unstoppable. It’s like a whole new world opened up.”
She deadpanned me. Hard.
“We should take a plant when we go see him,” I said, shrugging off her indifference. “Something in green.”
“Deph, you did that. You saved that man’s life.”
I smiled. All over. Every cell in my body morphed into smiley face emojis. Trillions and trillions of smiley face emojis, coursing through my body. I was getting that good at them. In all honesty, these powers may take some getting used to, but they’d helped me save a life. Possibly more than one. Can’t beat that with a hockey stick.
“Food!”
We turned to see my dads walk in. I hurried over to give them a hug. I’d just seen them the night before—they’d left before the big proposal and the even bigger explosion—but it seemed like days.
I leaned in, but the younger of the two, the one I called Papi despite his clear lack of Latino heritage, held up a hand to block me.
I stopped short and showed my palms in in surrender.
“You’re in trouble.”
“When is she not?” Annette asked, not helping.
I was forty-five years old, and the thought of being in trouble with my dads still caused a prickling of dread along my spine. “What’d I do?”
They turned in unison, as though the movement were choreographed, and looked at the oven behind them.
“Really, cariño?” the older one asked. Dad was one of those Latinos who put the sigh in le sigh, with his silver-fox hair and well-maintained beard. Both of my adoptive fathers were hotties, but Dad was so striking. So debonair. So… angry.
Uh-oh. He’d said cariño rather than Cariña, his pet name for me. His usual cariña was a term of endearment born from our love of star gazing when I was a kid. He’d named me after one of the brightest stars in the Milky Way, Carina. Only, with his unique Spanish accent, he pronounced the name with a tilde over the ñ. But the fact that he used the real deal meant someone was in trouble. Probably me. Yeah. Definitely me.
Papi, part Viking, part peace maker, turned an admonishing frown on me. “Why didn’t you call us?”
My dads were so rarely upset with me, it took me by surprise.
Roane walked in to witness my dressing down, and a warmth spread over my face. Only my dads could make me feel like a teenager getting caught sneaking into the house after curfew. Roane stopped at the top of the stairs and leaned back against the wall to watch, hiking one booted foot up on the wall. Gigi walked up behind him and took in the scene.
“Papi, what could you have done? I would’ve woken you up for nothing. We were fine.”
“Someone tried to kill you and you’re fine?”
“Not me, specifically. Just, you know, whoever decided to bake first. Annette drew the short straw.”
She was busy opening containers and arranging a mini lunch buffet. She sprinkled parmesan on top of the spaghetti. “I was making a pumpkin roll. It ended up in my hair. Are you hungry, Georgi?”
Georgi. Hearing Annette call her Georgi reminded me we had a lot of explaining to do, but Papi noticed her first.
“Girl!” He walked over to her, his arms wide. “You’re stunning.”
She walked into his embrace, clearly enjoying the lurve.
“Actually, it’s Georgiana now,” I said. “Georgiana Bishop, Ruthie’s long-lost twin sister.”
“Oh, I like it.” He set her at arm’s length. “And it’s genius.”
“Gorgeous, tesoro,” Dad said, and I was grateful for the distraction.
The chief walked in then, shook Dad’s hand, and made a beeline for his fiancée. Papi stepped aside with a sweep of his arm. Always the gentleman.
Annette’s dimple appeared. “How is it you always show up when we have food?” she asked the chief.
“Twenty-four-hour surveillance.” When her eyes rounded, he laughed softly. “Or perfect timing. Take your pick.”
“Well, come and get it.”
“We’ll finish this later,” Dad said, his handsome face stern, and I wondered who’d ratted me out.
My shoulders sagged, and Roane laughed softly. The sadist.
We each made a plate and went into the formal dining room, gorgeously appointed with the same black walls and trim as most of the rest of the house. Yet it was bright. The
large window on one wall offered enough light to give the room a fresh, airy feel.
“What are we doing about the explosion?” Papi asked the chief just as Ink jumped on the table.
He got a noodle from Annette’s plate of spaghetti before she could stop him.
She laughed and shooed him away, jumping back when Samuel appeared beside her, looking on in curiosity. “H-hello there,” she said, offering him a tentative smile. “You must be Samuel.” He nodded, but he seemed much more interested in the food. “Good heavens, you’re beautiful.”
The blond-haired, blue-eyed toddler dressed in Puritan garb offered her a shy grin and then vanished.
She looked at me, and I knew her heart was lost. “He’s adorable, Deph.”
“I agree.”
My dads looked at each other, and I realized we had more explaining to do. Mainly about how Annette could now see into the veil.
When they looked at me askance, I just nodded. “We think it’s because I turned her into a bird.”
“Then turn me,” Papi said. “I want to see him, too.”
I snorted and scooped up a bite of tortellini mantecati when a loud bang shook the table and reverberated off the walls.
Every set of eyes turned to the foot of the table where Roane sat.
He stood and held up a hand. “Stop. Don’t eat anything.”
I dropped my fork immediately, eyed my plate, then sighed aloud. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Has anyone taken a bite?”
“I did,” the chief said, easing away from the table. He stood and pulled Gigi back from it, and I could hardly blame him. For all we knew, it contained high explosives.
My dads just sat there, confused, but Annette and I eased back as well. I motioned for them to back up as Roane leaned over and sniffed his plate. He walked around the table, examining the plates, then strode into the kitchen.
We followed en masse, waiting as he checked out the food.
When he turned back to us holding the container of parmesan, his gaze landed on Annette. “Where did you get this?”
“I… I just bought it at Bella Verona. Everything here is either from the store or from Bella Verona. I didn’t use anything from the house.” She stepped closer. “Why, Roane? What’s wrong?”
He exchanged a quick glance with the chief, shook the jar, then said, “Arsenic.”
I practically shouted when I asked, “Arsenic?” I looked around at the shocked faces. What the hell was going on?
“That’s… that’s not possible.” Annette was so flustered, I felt sorry for her. “I literally just bought it.”
I walked over and draped an arm over her shoulders. “Annette, you have to stop trying to kill everyone.”
“But… I…”
“I’m kidding. This is not your fault.”
“First the flour, now the parm?” She blinked up at me. “I… I would never hurt anyone, Deph. You know that.”
Guilt consumed me. I shouldn’t have teased her. “We know that. No one thinks you did this.”
The chief stepped closer. “I’m sorry, hon, but I’m going to have to place you under arrest for attempted murder.” When the entire room gaped at him, he gave it a moment, then recanted. “Not really. I just wanted to see your reaction. That kind of shock is hard to fake.”
“Because I’m not faking!” She hiked her glasses onto the top of her head and rubbed her eyes before returning them. “I swear, Chief, I would never hurt anyone. I don’t even know where to get arsenic. Or nitroglycerine.”
“Georgi?” Roane said, his expression askance.
She shook her head. “I have no idea, sweetheart.”
He lifted the jar and looked at the clear bottom, giving it a shake, and his brows slid together.
“What?” I asked, easing closer.
“There’s no powder at the bottom.” He lifted out a sample and tasted it.
I stared at him, alarmed. “Should you do that?”
The chief took the bottle when he was finished and sniffed it, shaking his head. “It’s definitely not cheese.”
“Can you have it analyzed?” Roane asked him. “And the flour?”
“Of course.”
Annette pressed a hand over her mouth. “Did someone spike it at the store before I bought it? How is that even possible? How would they know what I was going to buy?”
“You don’t understand.” Roane’s mouth tightened across his face. “No one spiked it. It is arsenic. It looks like parmesan, but it’s 100 percent ratsbane.”
“Ratsbane?” I asked.
“Arsenic,” he answered with a shrug.
Annette sank into a chair.
Dad walked closer to examine the contents as well. “So, you’re saying this isn’t parmesan-spiked arsenic. It’s just arsenic.”
“Exactly.”
“How is that possible?”
When Roane looked at Annette, everyone else followed suit. Even me, but not to accuse her of anything. She would never.
She shook her head, her jaw hanging loose, her expression a thousand miles away. “I don’t know.”
“I do know one thing for certain,” I said to the group. “There are far too many poisonings in this house. But Gigi was poisoned before we got here. Annette couldn’t have had anything to do with that, and the events have to be connected. Right, Chief?”
The chief’s expression turned grave. “I learned a long time ago, Daffodil, not to jump to conclusions. We need to look at the evidence and go from there. I’ll need to ask you a few questions, Annette.”
“Of course.” She turned to face us, but her gaze went far beyond the occupants of the room. She was in shock. She’d had little to no sleep. She’d been abducted and had a building dropped on her and had been turned into a bird. She’d had a hard couple of days.
I sat beside her and pulled her into a hug. The fact that she let me spoke volumes.
“Chief, can we do that later? I think Annette might need a break.”
“Absolutely.”
“No, I’m okay,” she said, reaching over and patting my face. “I’d love to answer questions. I just don’t think I have any.”
“Questions?” I asked, teasing.
“Answers.” Tears shimmered between her lashes, making her gray eyes appear even stormier. Even cloudier.
I squeezed tighter, totally taking advantage.
We took the party to Red’s. Annette and I rode with my dads, the chief brought Gigi, and Roane followed in his truck. He was being very secretive, very protective, and I couldn’t help but wonder if something else was going on.
We took a table near the window, but Roane trailed behind us and stayed outside, his jaw tense as he scanned the area. He wore a thin leather jacket despite the cold and dark sunglasses despite the clouds.
I texted him when we sat down. You know you can join us.
He stood against a building across the street, his ankles crossed, the picture of nonchalance. I watched as he took out his phone and couldn’t help but notice his expression soften when he saw my text. A warmth spread throughout me.
He texted back. I see more from here.
What’s going on?
What do you mean?
You’re on high alert. Why?
You mean besides random explosions and near poisonings?
…yes
The wolves are restless.
Like metaphorically?
He started to text back, but something down the street caught his attention. He stopped and leveled his razor-sharp gaze on something—or someone—beyond my line of sight. After stuffing his phone back in his pocket, he lifted his collar and headed out.
So much for that conversation. Why would the wolves be restless? What did they have to do with any of this?
The server, a fresh-faced kid with floppy chestnut hair, handed out menus.
“Just coffee,” Annette said to him, but the last thing she needed was more caffeine. The girl had to get some rest.
&
nbsp; “How about decaf?” I asked her.
She blinked in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re taking a nap when we get back.”
“But decaf is the devil’s juice.”
“I know, but someone has to drink it.” I looked up at the server. “Two decafs, please.”
“Sure thing,” he said with a chuckle.
Everyone else ordered their drinks as I perused the menu, suddenly starving, but Annette sat staring into the abyss. Or into the kitchen. It was hard to say for certain.
I was about two seconds away from deciding on the chicken broccoli alfredo when the Cuban sandwich with sweet potato fries caught my eye. Damn it. I was so bad at making decisions. Either that or the man sitting two tables down was using up all of my brain cells.
I looked over. A man in a baseball cap and a tan tactical jacket with the collar turned up to cover his ears sat at a table alone. And he was desperately searching for something. I could feel the desperation on the air, hot and urgent, but I couldn’t see what it was he wanted. The fact that he was in agony drew me closer to him. No, wait, my feet drew me closer. I’d stood and walked over to him.
“Cariña?” Dad said, but I kept walking.
Without asking permission, I sat across from him. I startled him. He looked up at me, his brown eyes red-rimmed, his dark skin streaked with salt from the tears that had dried on his cheeks.
“What are you searching for?” I asked him, praying he’d let me in. I didn’t know a lot about my powers yet, but I did know they only led me to the direst situations. To people in the direst circumstances.
His expression morphed from shock to downright hatred. He wrapped a large hand around my wrist. “Did you send it?”
“Did I send what?”
He jerked me across the table, wrenching my shoulder. The edge dug into my rib cage, but I didn’t try to move back. He could dislocate my shoulder at this point. Or break a couple of ribs. And he clearly missed the very large police chief sitting nearby and the two very protective dads.
Papi jumped up first, shouting a thunderous “Hey!” as he hurried over.
The room fell silent, and every set of eyes focused on us.
The man didn’t move, his sneer implacable. The stuff of legend.
Beguiled Page 10