“Is that true?” I ask.
Max glowers past me a moment. “It’s true. But the guy used every word I fed him verbatim.”
Shep taps his fingers over the table. “Did you try discussing this with him? Maybe bring up a lawsuit?”
“I did, on multiple occasions—but look, this guy had money. I’m just a struggling musician. I’m not going to lie. It hurt like heck knowing he wasn’t going to cut me into something that was mine to begin with.”
“Max”—I scoot my seat in a notch—“that singer was Perry Flint, wasn’t it? I saw your expression change at the mention of him and you didn’t exactly look mournful.”
Shep’s eyes round out in horror as he looks my way.
Okay, so maybe I could have left off the commentary, but I’m sure Max will appreciate my honesty. Or not.
“You got me there.” Max belts out a short-lived laugh. “It was Perry. The guy was borrowing lyrics from friends for years. I guess he never had anyone ask to have the proper credit given to them. I could understand if it was just one line or two, but the guy ripped off my entire song. The worst part was I had no way to prove it. I was trusting that he was an upright kind of a guy, and it turned out he wasn’t. He even won a Folkey award for my song. The world would never believe it was mine now.” He gives a wistful shake of the head. “So much for that.”
Shep takes a breath. “I guess chalk it up to a lesson learned. If it makes you feel better, I’ve had people rip off entire plotlines of mine and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I can tell you right now, I know how frustrating it can be. Onward and forward, right?”
“I guess.” Max does his best to shrug it off.
I tilt my head his way. “Max, when was the last time you spoke to him about it?”
“Not long ago.” He glances to the table with a somber look as if reliving a bad memory. “But I knew it’d be one of the last times I could talk to him about it.”
“Why’s that?” My heart pounds as if we were about to hear a confession.
“I ran into Devin a few weeks back. Apparently, Perry had some crazed fan that was sending threatening messages about a year back. It was still creeping him out, so he was looking to hire private security.”
Shep and I exchange a glance. It’s the first time I’m hearing about a crazed fan, and my guess is it’s his first time, too.
Max blows out a breath. “Perry is dead now. I guess I will have to move on and let go of the piece of me I ripped out to produce that song. But it won’t change the fact each time I hear ‘Come Back to Me’ I shed a little tear for what could have been.”
“Oh my goodness, Max”—I press a hand to my chest, feigning surprise—“that was a huge hit! You have some real talent. And I’m sure sooner than later you’ll reap the benefit. Hey, you wouldn’t have happened to have been at the manor that night Perry gave his final performance, were you?”
Max’s eyes flit around the room as if they don’t know where to land next.
“No, actually, I wasn’t.” He rises from his seat. “Dessert is on me tonight. Enjoy your meals.”
No sooner does he take off than our food arrives.
I wait until the waitress takes off before I lean toward Shep.
“He lied about not being at the manor the night Perry was killed. Shep, I saw the two of them in a shoving match myself.”
He glances over his shoulder briefly. “I believe you.”
“I guess Max has a motive. And the fact he’s lying sure does make him look guilty.”
Shep nods. “And I’m guessing that’s exactly why he doesn’t want anyone to know he was there. If he did it, he doesn’t want to get caught. If he didn’t do it, he doesn’t want to be pegged as the killer because he realizes he’s an easy suspect.”
“Do you think Nora knows about him?” My lips twist when I bring up his ex, but at this point, she’s a necessary evil.
“I don’t know. But I’ll compare notes.”
A sullen feeling takes over.
Of course, he will. Shep is probably just looking for an excuse to reignite the flame. I don’t see why I should mind. The only thing that should be preoccupying my mind is getting Opal rolling in the green so I can peel off a few bills for myself and fix that deathtrap my Uncle Vinnie stuck me with.
Dinner comes and goes without any hope of sparkling conversation. Tilly trots by with a man leading her to the dance floor and pauses at the table.
“Box that platter of deliciousness up to go for me, would you?” Her suitor nudges for her to hurry. “And hit the dance floor at least once tonight.” She shakes her head at Shep. “One song won’t kill you.”
The music drifts to something slow and melodic while Shep tips his chin and examines me from across the table.
“How about it, Bowie?”
“Oh, I don’t—um, I can’t…I haven’t—”
He rises up and lends me his hand. “Enough with the excuses.”
I bite down on my lip as he leads us to the nexus of the dance floor and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me close.
Shepherd Wexler’s chest feels rock hard, as in I could easily spend the next few hours washing my clothes over his abs.
His gaze presses into mine as we move in rhythm to the music, and, dare I say, I see the beginnings of a tiny smile budding on his stubborn lips.
Without putting too much thought into it, my head lands over his shoulder and I close my eyes. For a moment, the world around me fades and it’s just Shep and me alone in a universe of our making.
The floor beneath me feels as if it’s giving way, and I’m overcome with that warm, fuzzy feeling I get whenever a vision begins to brew, and, sure enough, in my mind’s eye I’m staring at a computer screen where I see my ex’s ugly mug. Johnny’s face just so happens to be his avatar on all of his social media sites. And next to his smug mug are the words, You’re not going to get away with this, Stella. Nobody does this to me and splits. I will hunt you down like an animal. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done to me. You haven’t seen the last of me yet.
I blink up at Shep in fright and struggle to pull away.
“Whoa” —Shep pulls me in close once again—“looks like you fell asleep and had a nightmare.”
“Yes”—I pant as I try to catch my breath—“something like that.”
Shep, Tilly, and I head back to Starry Falls and Shep gives me a polite nod once he walks me to my door. Either he’s too stubborn to dole out a kiss or he picked up on the fact I’ve been in a very big funk ever since I had that bout of insanity while he was holding me in his arms.
As soon as I crawl onto my cute black and white checkered sofa, I pull out my phone and carefully head over to a few of Johnny Rizzo’s social media sites. Sure enough, he’s done it. Right there, for all to see, is the very threat my sibylline powers afforded me.
If Johnny Rizzo says he’s going to hunt me down, I’m as good as found. Johnny was in hiding twenty-four hours before I ever left town, but to him I’m just a possession. In his eyes, I belong to him. And if he wants me by his side, he won’t stop until I’m there. I know where Johnny is. It’s where he always is when the greedy gravy is about to hit the fan. He’s holing up above his uncle’s pizza place in Rhode Island.
So I do the only thing I can do. I call the FBI’s anonymous tipline and draw them a map of where to find the cunning little rat.
Goodbye, Johnny.
May we never meet again.
But a part of me knows that’s just wishful thinking.
Chapter 15
In an awful irony, I stopped by the local coffee shop before heading to work at the café. And considering the fact the Manor Café boasts of the world’s best coffee, with an oversized sign out front, it should be a hint at what needs to change quickly if we plan on keeping the few customers we have.
The manor looms in the distance as I come up on it, and I can’t help but smile at the crooked mansion set on a hill with its pointy spires and cathe
dral windows. It holds a haunted appeal, and yet I’m not terrified at all of the place. Instead, I find it charming, disarming, and downright homey.
Opal’s army of kitties, fifty strong if not a hundred, greets me as I make my way up the stone steps. And behind the large gray castle of a building, I can see the falls in the distance as the glowing water rushes down the rocky crags. Green moss and grass cover the hillside and a smattering of yellow flowers is sprinkled about. Spring is in full bloom and the air is warm and holds the scent of citrus and roses.
Starry Falls is like something out of a fairy tale, and simply being in this place makes me feel as if I’m headed for my very own happily ever after. But, soon enough, Johnny and my entire life back in Hastings blink through my mind and take any thoughts of being happy out right along with it.
I pick up a silver cat with a pink nose and drop a kiss on its forehead. There is something so very relaxing about holding a warm, fuzzy, purring creature, and the last thing I want to do is let go.
As soon as I step inside the café, the scent of bacon lights up my senses. There’s nothing like the smell of bacon sizzling on the griddle to make you feel good about the day ahead, especially when you know it’s going to start off the right way with something delicious in your belly. The cooks in the back have already whipped up enough pancakes to feed a small island nation, as Mud, the handyman, heads my way.
“Opal wanted me to check up on things.” He offers a sober nod.
Why do I get the feeling check up on things is code for check up on me?
“You’re running out of supplies.” He looks to me with those bulging eyes of his, and it’s a bit off-putting. “Making sure the café is well stocked was Regina’s job. Just saying, you’re the new Regina, so you’ll have to go and pick up some more stuff before you run out of things to serve the customers.”
“No food definitely equals no customers. What do I do? Where do I go?”
He squints out the front windows. “Let’s see, Regina made a few runs to Basket Mart a few times a week. Start there.”
“Basket Mart?” My own eyes nearly fall out of my head. “As in the supermarket down the street?”
Customers stream through the door all at once, and Shep happens to be one of them. He gives a nondescript wave before heading off to his usual seat.
Tilly runs up and snatches a handful of menus as do Thea and Flo, and just like that, the café is bustling.
“Yup, Basket Mart.” Mud gives his scraggly blond mane a quick scratch. “Where else would she get the food for this place?” He takes off for the back, and I take off to the floor to find Tilly.
“Hey, Bowie.” Tilly gives me a sly wink as she pours Shep a cup of coffee. “The two of you look a touch grumpy today. I’m betting it has to do with a serious lack of sleep. Might I ask what kept the two of you up late on a hot spring night? A little shared aerobic workout, maybe?”
“Not that,” I say. “I just spoke to Mud and he said Regina bought the supplies for this place at the grocery store down the street. Is that true?”
A look of confusion crosses her face. “Why wouldn’t that be true?”
“Because it’s a good way to go bankrupt. I’ll need to find a restaurant supply store. Shep, you have your laptop open. Would you mind looking one up for me?”
His expression goes from affable to ornery in a single bound, but I’m not offended. Ornery is his signature look.
“Your wish is my command, Bowie Binx,” he says as he clicks out of the document he’s working on, and soon the screen is populated with a jumble of pictures from the internet.
A sharp gasp emits from me as I zero in on one picture in particular.
Sitting on the screen, on some generic news site, is Johnny’s face front and center with the word captured printed in red bold letters right above his smug mug.
Shep glances back at me and pauses. “Everything okay?”
My mouth falls open. “Y-yes.” I clear my throat. “I mean, you just said my wish was your command. I probably should have asked for something a little bit bigger.”
Tilly plucks the pencil from behind her ear and points it my way.
“Like fixing that car you’ve got sitting on Main Street?” She bumps her hip to mine. “Hate to be the one to break it to you, but I saw a ticket sitting on your windshield.”
“Oh no-o-o.” I tip my head back in grief at the thought.
“Hey, Shep?” Tilly looks his way. “Does your brother still own that body shop in Scooter Springs? I bet he’ll know someone who can fix it.” She leans my way with a devious gleam in her eye. “And after the night the two of you just had, I’d say Shep should be negotiating quite the deal.” She shrugs. “His brother has done more for me in exchange for a six pack.” She takes off, and to my relief Shep’s laptop is already pointing the way to six different restaurant supply stores in the area.
“I’ll call my brother.” He scowls at the screen. “There’s a restaurant supply store out in Woodley.” His brows narrow a moment, giving him an otherworldly appeal, and I think Thea just dropped a dish because of it. “Nora called this morning. She invited me out that way. It looks as if they’re doing their final inspection of Perry’s rental home today.”
Every last bit of me tingles at the thought. “And you’re extending an invite?”
“No,” he flatlines. “But if you need a ride to Woodley to pick up a few things for the café”—he close his eyes a moment—“it’s on the way.”
“Yay!” I give an odd little cheer. “And, Shep, I really appreciate it.”
“I know,” he says, getting right back to his work.
I fly to the office in the back and quickly hop onto the internet to see the news for myself.
Johnny Rizzo arrested. Moretti crime family crumbles to dust. Black day for the New Jersey Cosa Nostra.
There would have been a time when reading this would have made me sad, made me angry, and sponsored a ridiculous level of vengeance in me. But right about now, I think I’ll have a cookie to celebrate. Johnny Rizzo isn’t going to hunt me down because I hunted him down first.
Who knows?
Maybe I’ll get that fairy-tale ending after all.
* * *
Perry Flint lived in Woodley, on a street lined with maple trees. Each house has its own white picket fence and there are kids riding their bikes up and down the street, while mothers stand in groups, gawking at the police cruisers parked in front of a blue house with a couple of dying pots of foliage set out on the porch.
Shep leads me into the house where we find a handful of sheriff’s deputies combing through drawers and files with gloves on. We head into the office in the back where Nora looks up from what looks to be a monthly planner in her hands.
“Well, well”—she pulls a tight smile, that bun in her hair looks even tighter—“I didn’t know it was date night. Shepherd, this isn’t show-and-tell. And I don’t have any spare gloves, so I’m afraid she’ll have to leave.”
Shep digs into his pocket and pulls out a pair of gloves for both himself and me.
“What do you know?” He looks to Nora. “I happen to have a spare.”
She takes a moment to glower at me as Shep pulls on his gloves.
“What did you find?” he grunts her way. It’s nice to know his grumpy personality isn’t exclusively shared with me.
Nora sniffs. “There are some things in the bedroom we’re itemizing. Shep, why don’t you have a look with me? Ms. Binx, you stay put until further notice. Don’t break anything.”
I wait until they leave to pull on my gloves and examine the planner she just put down. It’s filled to the brim with dates, with the names of venues I’m guessing Perry was set to perform at.
Judging by the loopy, flowery, handwriting, this was written by a female. Probably Nicki—she’s the personal assistant, or at least she was.
I put the book down and glance around the dark room. It’s lined with bookshelves, mostly filled with folders, each labe
led with a different year. Some are marked tours, others marked by the month. I spot a thick iridescent spine up above and do a double take. It looks vaguely familiar, and it’s not until I pull it out do I realize it’s a scrapbooking album—the exact dark purple hue with an iridescent patina that the album Nicki was working on had.
I bet she did this one, too. I open it up and blink back a moment at what greets me. It’s a note, pieced entirely of different sized letters that were cut and pasted from magazines and newspapers. I was in the crowd and you pretended not to see me.
I turn the page and find another and another, all with the same creepy statements.
Remember to look over your shoulder some time. I’ll be there.
Love me not?
I don’t like to be ignored.
You will know me soon enough.
“Huh,” I whisper to myself. I quickly rifle through the rest of it, only to find it brimming with odd statements. It’s chilling to the bone.
“Bowie?” Shep calls from behind, and I nearly jump out of my skin. He heads over, a look of concern rife on his face. “What’s this?” he asks, carefully taking the album from me as Nora appears glancing over his shoulder.
“How do you like that?” She sneers my way. “You’re here five minutes and you stumble upon a gold mine. And to think, Shep, you said she wasn’t exactly a horseshoe.”
I frown up at him as Nora takes the book.
“Nora”—I step in—“last night, Max mentioned that Perry has someone who was harassing him—that he was about to get private security for himself.”
“This is the first I’m hearing of it.” Her eyes enlarge as she looks to the book in her hands. “I’ll have to ask around again.”
“What about the murder weapon?” I pant as my heart begins to race. My window of time in this place is quickly closing, I can feel it.
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