Lucky and the Falling Felon

by Emmy Grace

  The slat slams shut and, seconds later, I hear the click of multiple locks unsnapping. At least four dead bolts, by the sound of it.

  The door swings open to reveal an ancient man standing in the doorway of the dimly lit interior. He’s a rail of a guy with tufts of unruly reddish hair and the knobbiest knees I’ve ever seen. They’re shamelessly revealed in a kilt.

  Yes, a kilt.

  I’ve never met the man, but I know who he is just the same. Malcolm Douglas, the semi-reclusive Scot who makes his way down to O’Leery’s Tavern every Saturday night for a round of Guinness and some lively singing. Judging by the bleary, bloodshot state of his eyes, I’d say Saturday nights aren’t the only times he likes his Guinness.

  He steps back and motions me in. “You’re Lucky Boucher?”

  I love the way he says my name. For just a second I consider asking him if he’ll ask who stole his lucky charms.

  But I don’t.

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  “Sir was me grandfather. Call me Malcolm,” he says in his thick brogue. I have the passing thought that I could probably listen to him read my grocery list aloud and it would lull me right to sleep.

  “Malcolm then.”

  I step inside and he shuts the door behind me. It takes my eyes a few minutes to adjust, but when they do, I glance around and finally spot Miss Haddy. She’s in an easy chair with her feet kicked up, drinking what looks like a glass of sweet tea and watching a soap opera.

  She looks up and smiles when Malcolm and I get close, then motions to the chair beside her. “Take a chair, sugar.”

  My initial impression of Miss Haddy is reinforced despite Liam’s cautionary tales. This woman… There’s no way she can be some sort of town fixer or information manipulator. With her cap of white curls and ruby cheeks, she looks like Mrs. Claus in a mauve leisure suit.

  I perch on the end of the chair, resting my purse in my lap. Miss Haddy mutes the television, lets the foot down on what I see is a rocking easy chair, and gives me her undivided attention. For some reason, I feel like I’m being interviewed. Sized up.

  Miss Haddy’s lips stay curved in a gentle smile. Or maybe genteel. In my head, that’s what she is. The quintessential old Southern belle.

  Except for the eyes.

  As she watches me, as I look into her cornflower blue gaze, I see what a mistake it would be to underestimate this woman. Not only is she sharp and perceptive, she’s shrewd. Calculating. She’s measuring me up, forming conclusions about me even as these thoughts roll through my mind.

  Sweet old lady.

  Powerful businesswoman.

  It’s the strangest sensation.

  I tug on the knotted hem of my shirt. I feel underdressed. No, actually, I feel naked. Like she sees right through me. It’s like she’s sifting through all the good and looking for the bad. Everything from taking that piece of bubble gum from beside the cash register at 7-11 when I was ten, to letting Steven Sands cop a feel up under my bra in the ninth grade. This lady is digging it all up. And not saying a word.

  “I’ve been looking forward to spending some time with you,” she finally says.

  “Did I pass?”

  “Pass?”

  I nod. “Whatever you were looking for, did you find it?”

  Her grin deepens and her two dimples double in size. “You’ve got a good heart, Annabelle Boucher. That’s what matters most.”

  I guess that’ll have to do.

  “How do you know about me?” I shake my head the instant the words leave my lips. “Never mind. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you know everything about everyone in this town, right?”

  She gives a soft, hoarse rasp of laughter. “Is that what you’ve heard?”

  “Sorta.”

  “Well, it’s not wrong.”

  “So you can help me?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you… How much do I need to tell you? Do you just need a name? Or…?”

  Again, she stares at me for long seconds. Like the older, paler edition of Beebee. With Beebee believing she’s got “the gift,” she has this way of looking at you, like she’s cooking up something, preparing it just for you. But with Beebee, I always knew whatever she thought she was cooking up was good, though. I can’t be sure about this woman. I just hope she’s as harmless as my grandmother.

  Finally, just when I feel the need to squirm in my seat and maybe ask to be excused to the bathroom, she speaks. “You’re here about the Trivett boy.”

  I admit it. I’m a little surprised.

  Okay, fine, I’m shocked.

  But I’m also suspicious. This is so specific, I have to wonder if Liam called ahead and told her I was coming. Wouldn’t that be quite the lark on the new girl in town? Having her think that the oldest resident in Salty Springs is some sort of spooky kingpin who knows all and sees all?

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  She leans back in her chair and stares at the television. She’s not watching it, though. Her eyes don’t move across the screen. They just stare like she’s deep in thought.

  “I know you’re snooping around in Martin Vickerman’s murder.”

  “Yes.” No sense in denying that. “But why would that lead you to think I’m interested in Kyle Trivett?”

  She turns her head and locks those eagle eyes on me. “Why did it lead you to be interested in Kyle Trivett?”

  I don’t have time to evaluate the wisdom of sharing everything I know before I answer her. I just spill the beans.

  All of them.

  She takes in everything I have to say. She doesn’t appear shocked, or even that surprised, which is an oddity in and of itself.

  When I’ve told all that I know, she asks a question. “Have you found the mistress yet?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She nods and starts rocking gently back and forth. “Did you know that Kyle Trivett has a girlfriend?”

  “I suspected.”

  “Do I need to tell you what she looks like? Or rather who she looks like?”

  The hair on the back of my neck prickles. The puzzle pieces that started moving at the diner are shifting once again, sliding into place. Taking shape. Forming a picture.

  But just to be sure I’m right, I have one last query.

  “Her name wouldn’t be Shay by any chance, would it?”

  Miss Haddy winks at me. “That’a girl.”

  That’s it!

  I’m excited. Very excited. My stomach feels like it’s full of jumping beans. I stand up so suddenly, my chair knocks back on two legs and nearly falls over. It teeters for a few seconds before I reach out to steady it.

  Miss Haddy chuckles. “Was that all you needed?”

  “You wouldn’t happen to know if Russell Philbin was involved with Vickerman and DeLuca, would you?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do, but I’ll leave that for young Liam to figure out. He and I have a lil history, don’t you know? He won’t appreciate my ornariness one tiny bit, but it’ll sure put me to sleep smiling tonight.”

  I say the only thing I can say. “Okay. Well, thank you, Miss Haddy. I appreciate your help.”

  She nods, her expression one of sublime satisfaction. “You’re welcome, sugar plum. Come back and see me again some time. You don’t have to wait to run into me at the library. Or Suzie’s salon.”

  She even knows about that? How could she possibly?

  It’s all so bizarre, it might be better if I don’t even question it.

  “O-okay. Thank you.”

  “You take care now, hear?” I’m turning to leave when Miss Haddy stops me. “Liam did tell you about the fee, right?”

  I look back at her, confused. “Fee?”

  “Nothing comes for free. Not even in a place like Salty Springs.”

  “That’s fine. How much do I owe you?” I reach into my purse for my wallet

  “You have a French bulldog, right?”

 
; “I…I do.” I swallow hard. Please, God, don’t let her ask for my dog.

  “An old friend of mine rescues bulldogs. She’s got about twelve or thirteen of ’em right now. Taking care of that many little critters isn’t cheap, and she just has a meager retirement to live on, you see? So, I was thinking someone needs to organize an event for them. A charity. To help pay for food and trips to see the animal doctor, and just overall upkeep. And you, pretty girl, seem like the perfect person to accomplish just such a thing.”

  “I…I’ve never organized a charity event before.” Much less one in a new town, where I only know a handful of people.

  I keep that last part to myself.

  “Then this will be good experience for you,” she says with a resolute nod. She turns away like the conversation is over, like no one ever bothers to argue or negotiate once they’ve been dismissed.

  That alone probably tells me a whole lot.

  I’m just about to make up an excuse when I hear a door to my right click open. I hadn’t even noticed it before, so dark is the rest of the basement. The only thing that stuns me more than the door suddenly opening is seeing who comes through it.

  “Mrs. Stephanopoulos?” I squint into the shadow.

  She comes to stand behind Miss Haddy’s chair. She isn’t smiling and doesn’t look pleased to see me. Not that she does much of either when I see her under normal circumstances.

  “If you need any help with your project, let me know,” Mrs. S. says.

  “Help? Project? How did you… How did…?” I glance from one to the other. Then do it a few more times. “Oh, so you’re like her… her helper or something?”

  At that Miss Haddy gives a howl of laughter so big it folds her forward in her chair. “Helper!” she says and then rocks back in glee.

  Mrs. Stephanopoulos, on the other hand, looks like I stole her favorite china doll. “I’m not a helper.” She crosses her arms over her chest. There’s something about that specific pose…

  Then I understand.

  Mrs. S.’s keen eye, her inquisitiveness, her downright intrusive behavior. Nobody thinks twice about an old lady asking questions or poking her nose in where it doesn’t belong, messing in other people’s business. And she uses that to her advantage. She probably helps gather a lot of the information that Miss Haddy hoards and wields.

  Nosey Mrs. Snuffleupagus is Miss Haddy’s informant.

  “Oh my gosh, you’re the flippin’ informant!”

  Miss Haddy cranes her neck to look back at Mrs. S. “You were right. This one’s smart.”

  Mrs. S. nods. She told Miss Haddy I’m smart? But how would she even know? Unless she’s been keeping a closer eye on me than I realized.

  I glance from one woman to the other and back again. The only thing weirder than…well, all of this, is their age. It’s just the most bizarre thing in the world to see these old ladies filling such unusual roles. It is like the underground. The seedy underbelly of Salty Springs. The dark web of small towns. I bet both of these feisty women were forces to be reckoned with in their younger years.

  Heck, they’re forces to be reckoned with now.

  Miss Haddy stands and waddles over to me. She takes one of my hands in both of hers and pats the back of it. “You’re gonna fit in ’round here just fine, sugar bottom. Don’t you worry.”

  Sugar. Sugar plum. Sugar bottom. I hope she isn’t testing out code names.

  She moves on past me, into whatever lies in the shadows beyond the stairs that go up to the ground level. As I watch her disappear, which would be an awesome effect if I were in a movie, I feel a light touch at my elbow. I turn to find Malcolm at my side, nudging me politely toward the door.

  I look behind me, intending to tell Mrs. S. goodbye, but she’s gone, too.

  When I exit, the back door closes behind me. I climb the steps and erupt into the sunshine like I’ve been in another world for the last few minutes. I half-expect when I turn around that the door will no longer exist, that it will have vanished in a cloud of smoke. But it’s still there. It looks innocent enough, but I’m learning that in a town like this, nothing and no one is as innocent as it seems.

  18

  I make my way home half in a daze. When I pull up at the carriage house, Liam’s truck is there. He’s sitting on the stoop, twirling a long piece of grass between his fingers. Leaning up against one of the porch supports, striking what I assume is a sexy pose, is Regina.

  When I get out of the car, I hear her laugh at something and she tosses her hair. She reminds me of a male peacock showing his beautiful array of feathers, hoping to attract a mate. Regina is strutting her stuff in her own way, trying to catch a mate, too. What she doesn’t know is that she’s preening up the wrong tree with Liam Dunning. The guy is about as cuddly and amicable and amorous as a porcupine.

  “What are you two doing here?”

  “Waiting for you,” Liam says. He looks mildly irritated. As usual.

  “What are you doing here?” I direct my question specifically at Regina this time.

  “I came to see how your product reports were coming.” She hardly glances at me, but smiles broadly at Liam, who looks like he couldn’t care less.

  “They’re not done yet. Can I get them to you this evening?”

  “Of course,” she says. “You know what a flexible boss I am.”

  I roll my eyes as I unlock the door. “I appreciate that. I’ve been busy.”

  “So I see.” Her comment is pointed.

  “It’s not like that. We’ve been looking into Vickerman’s murder together.”

  Regina’s expression shifts into something more normal and less…Victoria’s Secret. “How’s it coming? Any new suspects?”

  “Yeah. Kyle Trivett. And his girlfriend.”

  Both Regina and Liam respond at the same time. “His girlfriend?”

  They follow me inside and, within seconds of me closing the door, there is an onslaught of creatures. I feel like Ace Ventura. It seems like they’re emerging from every room and cubbyhole.

  Squishy, the parrot, lands on my shoulder, Gumbo nudges my leg, Mr. Jingles, the bulldog, gives an excited yip, and Lucy, the devil cat, hops up onto the windowsill to get as close to me as she can get.

  “The zoo,” Regina groans.

  “My God,” Liam mumbles.

  I can’t help grinning. “Best. Greeting. Ever.”

  I fill my guests in on what Miss Haddy said and how it’s all coming together in my mind as I feed and water the herd. When they’re all munching contentedly, the humans adjourn to the living room to talk.

  “So, what’s next?” Regina asks from beside me on the couch.

  “You and I are going out to the airfield. Liam—”

  My best friend balks. “How did I get roped into this?”

  “I need a distraction. You’re like a gorgeous, walking, talking distraction. Ipso facto…”

  She blushes prettily. Regina loves a good compliment. The best part is, I never have to look far to give her a genuine one.

  “Okay, fine. But you’d better not get me arrested.”

  “When do I ever go into something planning to get arrested?”

  Incredulous, Liam chimes in, “Wait. You’ve been arrested?”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Back in Gator Cove, there was this lab that—” I stop myself. “Never mind. It’s not important. The charges didn’t stick. But we aren’t going to get arrested today. We’re going to bust this thing wide open. And Liam is going to track down Russell Philbin and save his life. It’s going to be a fantastic day!”

  “Back up, woman. I never said—”

  “Per Miss Haddy’s instruction.”

  Liam’s brows drop down in consternation. “What? But why?”

  “She didn’t go into specifics. All I know is that there’s something going on at that airfield. She wants me there and you…not there.”

  The honk of a car alarm down the street starts up, startling the zoo. The chorus begins, startin
g with Gumbo this time, then rippling through the others like falling dominos. Mr. Jingles tips off Lucy-Fur, whose kitty version of a scream gets Gator going on his wheel in the other room. A few seconds after that, Squishy starts. From his perch in the corner, he squawks, “Booty call. Booty call.”

  “This is what you teach your bird?” Liam is dubious.

  I leap up and get Lucy and Mr. Jingles out of the bedroom. They’re usually the instigators and the perpetuators. It’s as I’m putting Lucy out the front door that Squishy’s bird version of Tourette’s triggers an ah-ha moment in my brain.

  “Booty call!” I yell.

  “Yeah, we heard.” Liam is not amused.

  “No, I mean booty call. That’s the key.”

  “Uhhhh, I’m not following,” he admits.

  “Kyle mentioned to whoever he was talking to, I assume his girlfriend, that the booty was worth it. I assumed he meant something sexual, but I think he was referring to something else entirely. Booty as in treasure or loot.” I turn to face Liam and Regina. “What if the business they’re trying to steal is a smuggling operation? And they’re using that plane to do it? I saw a hundred dollars lying on the counter at the airfield. Who leaves that kind of money lying around unless they have access to a ton of it?” I stare into space, my mind going a mile a minute. “Now it makes perfect sense.”

  Liam stands. He’s stern. “If that’s the case, you don’t need to be going to the airfield alone.”

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll have Regina with me. She’ll keep Kyle busy.”

  The thunderclouds roll over his face. “Still, I don’t like it.”

  The smile I give him is the cheekiest I can manage. “Lucky for you, you don’t have to. And I don’t really care anyway. I’m going to that airfield and I’m busting this case wide open.”

  I take Regina’s hand and drag her toward the door with me.

  “Do you at least have some kind of protection?” I think it’s kind of sweet for such a bear of a man to be concerned about me. I doubt tender feelings come easily to him.

  “Just my good luck and charm. And a rapier wit when I need it.” I wink at Liam as he rolls his eyes.

  “So, you’re going in defenseless then?”

  Regina gives a snort of laughter. “Good one.”