Five Spot

by Cindy Blackburn

  As Karen herself would say, yeah, right. I threw caution to the wind and said some silly thing about Karen, Pierpont Rigby, and happily ever after.

  “I’m not a character in one of your books. Spare me.”

  Someone else rapped at the door, so I did spare her. “That must be Wilson,” I said and got up to answer.

  Karen ordered me to double-check.

  It wasn’t Wilson, but it was Gavin and Mykal. “No worries,” I told her and opened the door. “It’s friends.”

  “Wilson’s going to kill you.”

  “Perhaps. But Gavin and Mykal certainly aren’t.”

  Chapter 18

  The guys swept into the room, swept me along with them, and dropped me onto the couch. “We aren’t what?” Gavin asked as they plopped down on either side.

  I made a show of brushing off my shoulders. “What is it with men bullying me around today?” I sputtered. “First Wilson, and now you two.”

  “We’re feeling protective.” Gavin inched closer.

  “More than protective.” Mykal inched also. “Someone tried to kill you this morning.”

  “You guys!” I elbowed them away, and they finally sat back. “How do you know that? No one’s supposed to know that.”

  “Earth to Adelé. I’m not blind.” Gavin reminded me he’d also been sitting next to Penelope that morning. “I wondered if the poison was meant for me, but then I thought about who moved what, where, when.” He tapped my knee. “It was meant for you.”

  “Which is why your hubby’s feeling so protective.” Mykal glanced around. “Where is he?”

  I sighed dramatically. “Apparently he’s decided to drive back to North Carolina for our pizza. And meanwhile I’m under house arrest.”

  “We noticed you weren’t at dinner,” Gavin said.

  “Or lunch,” Mykal added.

  I asked what else people were noticing and learned that Wilson was creating quite a stir. Everyone saw how he reacted in my moment of need that morning. And no great surprise, my husband the cop had failed miserably at blending in during my seminar.

  “Everyone thinks he’s the perfect paramour,” Gavin said.

  “He’s perfectly annoying.”

  “Au contraire, Adelé.” Mykal shook his head. “Your hubby has charmed the entire Happily Ever After population. Think about how those raffle tickets are selling.”

  “Must I?”

  “Speaking of charming,” Gavin asked after my mother and informed me they had spotted her at his seminar and again at dinner with Louise. “Shouldn’t she be with you?”

  “Yes, but she insists on sleuthing on her own—”

  Wilson barged in. “Hands up!” he ordered, and the three of us sprang from the couch.

  ***

  “Not you!” he yelled.

  I dropped my arms and elbowed the guys on either side of me. “For Lord’s sake, put your hands down. The man is threatening us with a pizza.”

  Wilson frowned. “At ease,” he said, and only then did Mykal and Gavin lower their arms. He set the pizza next to my Cupid. “I do have a gun,” he muttered.

  “That’s nice, Dearheart, but what I really would like is champagne.” I peeked around him and fluttered a few fingertips toward the hallway. “Kindly fetch that lovely bottle of Korbel?”

  Wilson frowned some more, promised he’d shoot anyone who dared touch the pizza, and walked out to get the bubbly.

  “You were spying on us,” I said as he returned.

  “You better believe I was. When I heard male voices, I put this down to have a hand free.” He held up the bottle. “And came on in.”

  “You barged in,” I said.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” Mr. Cordiality asked our guests. “And you!” He glared at me. “What are they doing here?”

  “They’re friends,” I said, and Wilson and I had ourselves a little stare down until Mykal interrupted.

  “We know your wife’s in danger, and we’d like to help,” he said quietly and reached for the Korbel. “Allow me.”

  Wilson yanked it back. “Not on your life, buddy.”

  ***

  Okay, so everyone took a few deep breaths. And then a few more.

  Eventually I broke the silence. “My overzealous bodyguard doesn’t want anyone to touch anything I eat or drink.”

  Mykal tried smiling. “That makes perfect sense, doesn’t it?”

  “What doesn’t make sense is that I still don’t have a drink,” I said, and my bodyguard finally got the hint.

  “On it,” he said and started rummaging around for some glasses. He told us we could sit down, and we started to do so. “Not together!” he said, and I leaped over the coffee table and into the easy chair.

  He handed the first glass to me. “What took you so long?” I asked.

  “Adam told me Antonio’s is the best pizza in the county. It was a drive.”

  “A nice long drive, convenient for making a few phone calls?” I asked.

  He ignored me and handed the guys their champagne, and I got up to serve the pizza. But our guests had already eaten, so I gave Wilson a slice and sat down with my own paper plate.

  “I really do want to help,” Mykal said eventually. “Gavin will be busy with his seminars, but I’m at your disposal. What can I do?”

  I thoroughly expected Wilson to decline the offer, but instead he studied Mykal. “You’re big and tall,” he said.

  “Well, gee. Thanks for noticing.”

  “I still have that gun.”

  Mykal cleared his throat. “But seriously.”

  “But seriously, you can protect my mother-in-law.”

  The pizza slice I was holding stopped midway to my mouth. “Excuse me?”

  “Think about it, Jessie. Anyone who knows you, knows a real good way to hurt you is to hurt Tessie.”

  I put down the pizza and folded my hands.

  Wilson waited until I looked up into the baby blues. “I don’t think she’s in danger, okay? But better safe than sorry, right?”

  While I whimpered incoherently, he laid out the facts for the guys. “Tessie’s eighty-four and weighs about eighty-four pounds.” He again considered Mykal. “You don’t by chance know tae kwon do or something?”

  “I take the black belt test next month.”

  Wilson laughed out loud. “You really are a stud.”

  Gavin winked at me. “Last we saw her, Tessie was downstairs having dinner with Geez Louise.”

  “Great,” Wilson said. “And knowing the two of them, they’ve made their way to the bar.”

  “Where Roaring Tori is likely trying to tear Mother away,” I said. “She’s been after her all evening.”

  Wilson’s head snapped in my direction. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “From the horse’s mouth.”

  “You let Tori Fister in here!?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Would you please give me some credit?”

  “Why should I?” He tilted his head toward our guests and was muttering something about letting everyone and his brother into the room when his cell phone rang. He groaned out loud and excused himself to answer it.

  Gavin waited until his back was turned and then leaned toward me. “Did Tori do it?” he whispered.

  I waved a dismissive hand to shush him and tried to concentrate on the phone conversation. I knew something was up by the tone of my husband’s “Mm-hmms.”

  He clicked off and turned around. “Okeydokey!” He clapped his hands.

  “Okeydokey?” I mouthed to Mr. Cupid.

  Wilson motioned the guys to stand up and none too subtly pushed them toward the door. “Okeydokey!” he repeated. “So you’ll keep Tessie company, right? You’ll be on the alert for anyone suspicious, right?”

  “More than alert,” Mykal said, and I barely had time to welcome the guys onto the team before Mr. Cordiality gave them one final shove into the hallway.

  ***

  Wilson leaned against the closed door. “You shouldn
’t have let them in.”

  “And you shouldn’t have thrown them out. What did Jo want?”

  He started. “How do you know it was Jo?”

  “I could tell by the tone of your ‘mm-hmms.’”

  “Okay, Miss Smarty Pants. So tell me what she said.”

  “She said it was poison.”

  He scowled. “She wants us down at the police station.”

  “Why didn’t you say so?” I sprang up and scurried around to locate my shoes. “What else did she say? What kind of poison? Where was it? Who did it?”

  “Jessie! You heard my end of the conversation. I was on the phone for what—ninety seconds?” He used a napkin from Antonio’s pizza to retrieve the box of candy from the dresser drawer. “Be careful and put this in your purse until we get there.”

  I opened my purse wide, he placed it inside, and out we went.

  We skittered quietly through the fourth floor hallways and crossed our fingers we wouldn’t encounter anyone in the elevator or lobby.

  The elevator cooperated. But the lobby was packed to the gills with pink people, all of whom seemed far too interested in where we were going. Wilson responded to no one and continued elbowing our way through the crowd, but I felt obliged to come up with some lame excuse.

  “The drug store,” I said. I caught sight of Roslynn Mayweather and called over that I’d somehow misplaced my toothbrush. I blew her a kiss and at about the same time noticed my mother talking to Zelda Bell. I blew her a kiss also, and Wilson propelled me through the door.

  ***

  “Does Tessie know where we’re headed?” he asked as we climbed into the Porsche.

  “Oh, absolutely,” I said. “She’ll be waiting up to hear our report. And meanwhile, I’m waiting for Russell’s report. It took you forever and a day to get that pizza. What did he have to say?”

  Wilson pulled out of the parking lot. “Densmore had a lot to say.”

  “Such as?” I asked impatiently. “Who’s he looking into? And where’s that list of names I have yet to see?”

  Wilson patted his chest pocket. “We’ll talk about it with Jo.”

  I sighed dramatically. “At least I know you’ve cleared Gavin and Mykal. You wouldn’t entrust Mother’s safety to just anyone.”

  Wilson told me I’m a genius but still took the opportunity to scold me at the next available red light. “You need to be a lot more careful, Jessie.”

  “Yadda, yadda, yadda.”

  “I’m serious.” He appealed to me with the baby blues. “Humor me?”

  I was mumbling reluctant agreement when my cell phone rang. I made every effort to find the thing without disturbing Batsy’s candy. “Candy,” I said as I checked the phone. I set it on vibrate and dropped it back from whence it came. “As in Candy Poppe, the person.”

  Wilson hit the gas. “You’re not answering?”

  “Not at this critical juncture. Any gossip about Karen’s love life will have to wait.”

  “I’m not sure what’s more surprising.” He turned into the Fable police department’s tiny lot. “Karen Sembler dating a millionaire or you saying the gossip can wait.”

  “I am not a gossip,” I said indignantly.

  “Yep. And I’m not your overzealous bodyguard.”

  Chapter 19

  Jo Keegan stared at the chocolates Wilson placed on her desk. “They need testing,” he told her.

  “For the poison,” I said.

  “Poison? Try poisons.” Jo emphasized the plural. “Better yet, try hodgepodge since that’s what my medical examiner’s calling it. It looks like the killer used whatever they could lay their hands on, mixed it all together, and hoped for the best.”

  Wilson raised an eyebrow. “The best?”

  “You know what I mean. The state crime lab in Atlanta agrees with the medical examiner. It’s a hodgepodge, but even so, they have very little to work with. The contents of her stomach is it.”

  I wrinkled my nose at that unpleasant thought, but clearly the cops were used to this kind of thing.

  “The victim emptied her water glass before she dropped dead,” Chief Keegan was saying. “So the poisons remain a mystery. And lucky us, none of the other water was tainted.”

  “That is lucky.” Wilson reached for my hand. “Otherwise you’d have several bodies laid out in your morgue.”

  Ho hum. I took a deep breath and asked about the dry water glass. “Can’t they test for residues or something?”

  Shocking, but both cops agreed with me. Wilson said the hodgepodge might prove useful since some poisons might have left trace elements. And Jo assured us the lab was still working on it.

  “Of course, it might not have been the water.” I let go of Wilson’s hand and twirled an index finger above the box of candy. “A hodgepodge of poisons, an assortment of chocolates—” I leaned back and let them think about it.

  “You think Batsy Glee did it?” Wilson asked.

  “She is a pharmacist,” I said, but then quickly changed my mind. “What am I saying? Batsy had no reason to kill anyone.”

  “So she didn’t do it?” Jo asked.

  I admitted I had no idea. “But I do hope the poison was in the candy,” I said. “Call me callous, but I hope they were after Penelope and not me.”

  “Tell me about it,” Wilson mumbled. He asked Jo if the crime lab was testing the candy from Penelope’s room.

  “What was left of it,” she said.

  “How about the empty wrappers?”

  She shook her head. “No can do. The room was cleaned before my uniform got up there.”

  “What?” He sat forward and banged his knees into the desk. Jo’s office, like everything else about the Fable police station, was tiny. “Adam Sheppard didn’t stop the cleaning staff?”

  “They were finished by the time he got up there.”

  “That’s just great!” he snapped. “If you’d listened to us sooner that room wouldn’t have been cleaned. Of all the incompetent—”

  “Dearheart,” I said loudly.

  He shut up and did some deep breathing, and Jo Keegan informed us it didn’t matter anyway.

  “Wherever the poison originated, the toxicology report will never be finished on time,” she said. “Everyone will be long gone before I even get the cause of death ironed out.”

  I thought about it. “I suppose you can’t detain people after Happily Ever After ends?”

  “Not hardly. This isn’t some quaint Agatha Christie novel. People aren’t sitting around the hotel drawing room waiting for Miss Marple to reveal the killer.” She threw her hands up. “It’s hopeless.”

  Wilson glared. “Let’s pretend it’s not hopeless. What else have you found?”

  I smiled encouragement and reminded the chief of police she’d been sleuthing at the Goodnight Inn all afternoon.

  “Sleuthing?” she asked. “I hate that word.”

  “Tell me about it,” Wilson mumbled.

  ***

  The good news?

  Chief Keegan told us about her afternoon at the Goodnight Inn.

  The bad news?

  I would have preferred Miss Marple.

  Jo seemed to delight in informing us the entire hotel staff was “useless,” and the volunteers were “not normal.”

  We asked for something a bit more specific.

  “Management’s worried about the hotel’s reputation,” she said. “And the employees are worried about management. Satisfied?”

  “No,” Wilson said honestly. “What about the volunteers?”

  “That’s right.” I nodded. “The Glee Club doesn’t work for the hotel.”

  “No, but they’re worried about the reputation of your stupid conference.” Jo shook her head. “Like I said—it’s hopeless. Come Monday, everyone leaves, and I’m back to square one.”

  “You’ll have an answer by Monday,” Wilson told her.

  “I will?” she asked.

  “She will?” I asked.

  “Yep,” he
said. “We figure it out this weekend, or Jessie remains in danger. Even at home.”

  Ho hum. While I pondered that altogether unpleasant idea, he spoke to Jo. “I have some contacts at the Atlanta crime lab,” he said. “I’ll get those reports expedited.”

  “In other words, you’ll go over my head.”

  “I’m trying to save my wife’s life.”

  “I don’t like being bossed around,” she said.

  “Tell me about it,” I mumbled.

  ***

  “Tell me about this.” Jo reached for some papers on her desk, and I realized she was holding those elusive lists of author names. “Did he show you these?” she asked me.

  “Of course not.” I yanked the notes out of my husband’s breast pocket, and while he pretended to be hurt, I shuffled back and forth between the 3P and Double D lists. “Why was I so anxious to see this stuff?” I asked. “What a hodgepodge.”

  “Tell me about it.” Jo rearranged her copies and suggested we start with Perpetual Pleasures Press. “That’s your publisher, right?”

  I skimmed the names, but nothing—or rather, no one—struck me.

  Wilson mentioned the intense rivalry between the two publishers, and we moved on to the Daydream Desires list.

  I pointed to Faith’s name. “Faith Hollingsworth is fine, but there’s something fishy about her husband, Roger Mattowski-Hollingsworth.”

  “Any reason he’d want you dead?” Jo asked.

  “None whatsoever.” I glanced at Wilson. “I assume Russell’s checking into him?”

  “Who’s Russell?” Jo perused her lists as if she’d find his name there, but Wilson told her not to bother.

  “Lieutenant Russell Densmore,” he said. “My second in command in Clarence.”

  She slammed down her notes. “You’ve got your entire staff working on this?”

  “Just Densmore.”

  “Why?” she sang.

  “Because he’s the best research investigator I’ve come across in my twenty-five years of law enforcement.”

  I raised my hand. “Russell’s amazing. He’s a great addition to the team.”