“Seriously?” Deacon’s eyebrows migrated up his forehead.
Ivy nodded, glum. “It could be nothing. He could just be a mentally ill man or something.”
“It could be something, though,” Deacon surmised. “Don’t worry. I’ll call Jack from my car. That way we can be sure that your crew chief won’t hear me.”
“I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it.” Deacon flashed a smile and moved to leave but Ivy stopped him with a quick pop of her lips. He waited expectantly.
“Also, because he’s going to ask, tell him I’m fine and that nothing bad happened today ... other than the whole Ava and Maisie thing, which he already knows about.”
Deacon’s smile was small but heartfelt. “I’ll tell him. It’s going to be okay. In a few weeks, this will be nothing but a bad dream.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself.”
12
Twelve
Ivy’s feet ached when she got home. All she wanted to do was throw herself on the couch and not move again ... ever. Since she could smell herself during the drive home, that wasn’t an option.
She raced through the front door, startling Nicodemus from his nap on the couch, and extended a finger in Jack’s direction. “I just have one question for you.”
From his spot next to the stove, where he was making homemade spaghetti sauce — with the morels he detested — he arched an eyebrow. “Yes, the answer is I love you more than anything.”
She didn’t crack a smile, as he’d intended. “That’s sweet. You can tell me again when I don’t stink.”
“I don’t care if you stink.”
“I care.” Her eyes flashed a warning when it looked as if he might mosey in her direction. “Don’t even think about it. You can’t touch me until I’ve scrubbed five layers of skin off.”
He hated that she was so uncomfortable but decided to make things easy on her. “That should give me plenty of time to finish up the sauce ... and pop in the garlic bread you love so much.”
Her expression softened. “You bought the garlic bread? You said you hate it when I eat that stuff because it makes me smell like I have the breath of a corpse.”
Honestly, he didn’t remember being that colorful when he voiced his distaste for the garlic bread. “We’ll both eat it and I won’t be able to smell anything. That’s why you don’t have to shower.”
“Oh, I’m showering.” Ivy was determined. She felt absolutely filthy and it was something she wouldn’t be able to shake without copious amounts of body wash. “It’s happening and you’re just going to have to get used to it.”
“Fine.” Jack held up his hands in mock surrender. “I won’t say another word about your bathing habits. Take your shower.” He turned back to the stove.
“I haven’t asked my question yet.”
He racked his brain and came up empty. “I thought the answer to any question was that I love you more than anything.”
“Stop!” Ivy’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “I don’t want to hear mushy stuff until after I shower.”
“Fine.” He was resigned to her being in a bad mood until she got thirty minutes under the pulsing spray to herself. “I won’t say another romantic thing, even if you are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
Ivy’s lips quirked at his petulant response but her resolve held strong. “I just want to know if you got my message from the guy at the medical examiner’s office.”
Jack nodded. “I did. You were smart to do things the way you did.”
“Did you find something?”
“Um ... yes and no.”
“Well, hold that thought.” Ivy lifted a finger to quiet him. “You can tell me all about it after my shower. I’m just glad you got my message. I’ll be back in thirty minutes. Time me.”
“How about I just miss you terribly while you’re gone?”
Ivy couldn’t contain her eye roll. “Now you’re just saying that stuff because you know it annoys me.”
“Is that any way to treat the love of your life? I’m hurt.”
That was enough to garner a legitimate smile. “I’ll soothe your bruised ego in thirty minutes.”
“Now that’s something to look forward to.”
BY THE TIME IVY EXITED THE SHOWER and climbed into fuzzy pajama pants and one of Jack’s oversized T-shirts, she felt mostly human again. She didn’t bother putting on socks before padding out to the kitchen. Once she crossed the threshold, her mouth began watering thanks to the delicious smell.
“Did you use my recipe?”
Jack, who was just pulling the garlic bread out of the oven, straightened. “I did ... although your recipes leave a bit to be desired. I don’t happen to believe that a ‘pinch’ is an actual measurable amount.”
As if to prove him wrong, Ivy lightly pinched his muscled rear end. “I don’t know. That seems like just enough for me.”
He grinned as he swooped in to kiss her. “There’s my girl.” He licked his lips as they parted. “You brushed your teeth, too? Now maybe I should freshen up a bit.”
“It seemed weird not to brush my teeth when I was doing everything else,” Ivy admitted, grabbing a knife from the block on the counter and moving toward the bread. It was one of the frozen loaves available in any grocery store, but she was addicted all the same. “It’s nice that you made dinner. I assumed you were going to pick up takeout again.”
“I considered it.” Jack moved his hands to her neck and started massaging the tightness he found there. “I know you prefer a home-cooked meal every now and then, though. Plus, I wasn’t in the mood to deal with people.”
“You and me both. Ugh.” She made a groaning sound deep in her throat. “I’m going to give you six hours to stop that.”
His smile was back as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll rub you silly after dinner. I’m starving and want to eat first.”
“I’m all for that.”
They were silent as they went about the work of finishing their meal. Ivy drained the spaghetti and Jack moved the sauce into a bowl and grabbed a ladle. Within three minutes, everything was on the table, and their stomachs were growling in tandem.
“Dig in,” Jack instructed as he unfolded his napkin. He wanted to make sure she had a heaping helping. “I didn’t bother with dessert because we have leftover cake and pie in the refrigerator.”
“That’s fine with me.” Ivy briefly pressed her eyes shut and inhaled the heavenly aroma. “This smells just like my sauce.”
“It is your sauce.”
“Except I use morels.”
He blinked several times and then nodded. “It is your sauce.”
She stilled, surprised, and then took a better look at the sauce in question. “I just thought you grabbed a can of regular mushrooms out of the pantry. You actually got some of the frozen morels from the freezer, though.”
“It wasn’t all that difficult.”
“No, but ... .” She froze for a full beat, and then did something that took both of them completely by surprise and burst into tears.
“Oh, geez.” Jack leaned closer, unsure if he was supposed to hug or shake her. “What’s wrong? I’ll get takeout if you want it. I thought for sure this would make you happy.”
“I am happy, you dope,” she snapped, swiping at the tears. “This is the nicest thing anybody has ever done for me.”
Jack was utterly convinced that wasn’t true. “Honey, it’s dinner. Let’s not go crazy.”
“No, but ... you put the morels in even though you hate them.”
“I can pick around them. I plan to hide them under my napkin and then slide them onto your plate when you’re not looking.”
“Oh, that’s even sweeter.” The tears increased as her shoulders started to shake.
“I can’t take this,” Jack muttered, dropping to his knees and shuffling closer to her chair so he could pull her into his arms. He kissed her cheek as she buried her face in the hollow of his neck
. “I love you so much,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry this has happened.”
“You’re sorry about the morels?” She pulled back far enough that she could stare into his eyes. “Don’t be sorry about the morels. I didn’t spend three weeks straight living in the woods so you could be sorry about them.”
That caused him to crack a smile. “No, I’m sorry about everything else. You’re overwhelmed by the community service. I know that jerk is making your life hell and it’s driving me crazy that I can’t do something to fix it. I’m so sorry.”
Ivy huffed out a sigh. It was just like Jack to take the onus of everything onto his broad shoulders and blame himself. “You didn’t cause this.”
“I didn’t fix it either.”
“You can’t fix everything.”
“I want to fix everything.” His lips brushed her cheek. “I don’t want you suffering like this.”
The way he said it, almost on the verge of tears himself, had Ivy crashing back to reality. “Oh, good grief.” She angrily wiped the tears away and stared into his eyes. “I don’t want to be this weepy mess. It’s not who I am.”
“You’re allowed to have a breakdown in your own home.”
“It’s still not who I am.” She offered up a rueful smile. “I’m strong. I’m a badass witch, although I feel like a big wuss right now.”
“You’re upset. Given what happened with Maisie and Ava ... .” Even though he told himself he’d put it behind him — for her sake as much as his — a sharp jab of annoyance coursed through him.
“What happened with Maisie and Ava was to be expected,” Ivy countered rationally. “There was no way I was going to get out of this without them trying to make things worse. That’s who they are.”
“I know but ... .”
“It’s fine.” Ivy squeezed his hand reassuringly. “There’s nothing they can do to hurt me. I have what they want and this is just them acting out because they’re jealous.”
Jack’s fingers were gentle as they brushed her wet hair away from her face. “You think all of this is because they want me, do you?”
She snorted. “Oh, look at Mr. Ego. While I’m sure they would love to claim you, it’s more that I think they want this.” She gestured at the limited space between the two of them. “They’re not real people, not authentic at least. They can never have this unless they become better people and I don’t see that happening for either of them.”
“I don’t either.” He leaned closer and gave her a soft kiss. “Ava got in trouble with her father. That might bring some measure of happiness to you.”
“Not really happiness, but I would be lying if the petty part of me didn’t enjoy the thought.”
“She’s been warned to stay away from you. That means I want to hear about it if she shows up again.”
Ivy hesitated. She wasn’t sure she could make that promise. “I don’t really want to tattle, Jack.”
“You had no problem asking Deacon to call me to tattle on Marvin.”
“I ... that was different.” She made a face. “I’m kind of worried about him. He didn’t show up for the end of shift. His car was still by the road when everybody left. Plus, the dude talks to himself.”
“I’ve heard you talking to yourself in the mornings.”
“I talk to Nicodemus. There’s a difference.”
Jack spared a glance for the cat on the couch, who didn’t as much as stir. “If you say so.” He stroked his hand over her hair again. “Before we start talking about Marvin, are you okay?”
“I’m okay.” She used her hand to hold his palm to her cheek for a beat and then released him. “I’m also starving and curious. That’s a deadly combination. Tell me what you’ve learned about Marvin.”
Jack stared into her eyes for a moment longer and then shifted back to his chair, content that she was telling the truth and she really was okay. The tears were cause for concern, but she was the type of woman who didn’t appreciate crying, which meant he had to let it go even though he would like nothing more than to dote on her for the rest of the evening.
“Well, for starters, he’s nuts.”
Ivy frowned as she dished sauce onto her pasta, making sure she got as many morels as she could find. There was no meat because she was a vegetarian, but Jack had also added tomato and zucchini chunks because he knew she was a big fan. “I don’t think you’re supposed to call him nuts. He has mental defects.”
“No, he’s nuts.” Jack managed a smirk as he took the ladle from her. He was much more careful when digging through the sauce. He didn’t mind the vegetables. But the morels? Yeah, he was convinced they tasted like feet. “He’s been locked up several times.”
“It’s still not nice to call him nuts,” Ivy chided. “We must be sympathetic to those who have issues.”
“Yeah, I don’t think I can agree with you on that,” Jack argued. “Maisie and Ava have issues, too, and I’m not sympathetic to them at all.”
“Yes, but their issues are chosen. I don’t think Marvin’s issues were chosen.”
“Fair enough.” Jack squeezed her hand and then grabbed the breadbasket. “Marvin had it rough. His mother was a religious zealot who used to take him door-to-door to preach the word of ... well, I’m not sure what religion they were so I don’t want to say.
“Anyway, the woman had a few issues and at one point declared one of the homes she was visiting to be hers and refused to leave,” he continued. “The police were called, the mother was taken in for evaluation, and Marvin went to live with his grandmother.”
“That’s good, right?” Ivy had sauce smeared at the corners of her mouth because she’d been shoveling in the pasta fast enough that an outside observer might believe food was about to be outlawed. “If the mother got help, that means Marvin can get help.”
“The mother killed herself while in the hospital,” Jack replied, using his napkin to wipe at the sauce. “She hung herself with bedsheets, which left Marvin with his grandmother ... who was another religious zealot.”
Ivy’s stomach rolled. “Well, that doesn’t sound good.”
“No. There’s not a lot known about the grandmother. She died when Marvin was seventeen. He was only two weeks from his birthday so they didn’t put him in a home or anything. That probably would’ve been for the best given some of the things he’s done since then, but he never had an evaluation back then.
“Instead he picked up odd jobs here or there, worked as a janitor and grounds crew member for the cemetery over in Bellaire. Most everyone said he was a good worker but bad with people.”
Ivy leaned back in her chair, considering. “Let me guess. He talked to himself and made people nervous.”
“Bingo.” Jack slid two slices of garlic bread onto Ivy’s plate. She’d already grabbed two of her own, but he was familiar with her appetite. “He’s been arrested a good ten times. Sometimes for vandalism. Sometimes for theft. Like, two years ago he took the nativity scene from the front of the Catholic church in Bellaire and moved it to the grocery store, where he proceeded to dress up the statues as prostitutes.”
Ivy made a face. “I think that speaks to some deep psychological issue. He obviously has trouble with women.”
“I would agree with that statement. The problem is, most of Marvin’s crimes were committed against churches, and when the elders and priests realized he had emotional problems, they opted not to press charges.”
“Even though it probably would’ve been the best thing for him,” Ivy mused.
“Pretty much,” Jack agreed. “The shoplifting charge he was convicted of is ... weird. Basically he stole a golf cart from the resort out on the highway, went joyriding, and ran it into the pro shop when trying to bring it back. He was confused at the time, took a jacket to get warm, and ended up with a single shoplifting charge.”
“That doesn’t seem like much given the amount of damage he probably did.”
“No, but the notes on the file said that the resort owner felt bad upon mee
ting him. He didn’t want the book thrown at him, but he thought it was best there be some form of punishment. The prosecutor agreed ... and this is what they came up with.”
“Did he have ties to Sasha?”
“Not that I can find. In fact, I’m kind of curious where they even would’ve crossed paths.”
“Maybe he went to the same church as the Carmichaels.”
“That’s a possibility and Brian is going to ask one of the church elders — apparently he plays poker with him — if he recognizes Marvin. We don’t want to bother Sasha’s family unless we absolutely have to.”
“That’s probably smart.”
“I’m all kinds of smart,” Jack agreed, grinning as he transferred morels to Ivy’s plate. “If not at church, it seems unlikely to me that Marvin and Sasha were ever in the same spot.”
“Except he said her name,” Ivy pressed.
“Maybe he heard it on the television.”
“Does he have a television?”
“That’s another good question. We don’t know where he lives. The address listed on his probation paperwork is for a post office box. We’re still trying to track down where he’s living.”
“Huh.” Ivy pursed her lips. “It sounds like you don’t think it’s him.”
“I don’t know. I can’t say until we find a tie between him and Sasha. Right now it’s a waiting game. I would be much more apt to believe it’s Jason, who also hasn’t shown up.”
“Well, that sucks.” Ivy forked a huge wad of pasta into her mouth, leaving sauce at the corners of her lips again.
Jack couldn’t help but smile at the sight she made. “How about we let the case go for the rest of the night and do something more fun?”
“I can do that and talk about the case,” Ivy teased.
“Ha, ha.” He poked her side. “I was thinking more along the lines of a massage, a movie, and then another dream trip to a potential honeymoon destination. We need to pick a spot.”
Ivy brightened considerably. “That sounds fun. Where do you want to visit tonight?”
“I was thinking New Orleans again. You really liked it last time, but we didn’t make it out of the Garden District. I would like to hit Bourbon Street and throw beads at you.”
Wicked Games (An Ivy Morgan Mystery Book 17) Page 12