“I also brought Smith Island cake,” Avril said. “For some of you.” She gave David her best stink-eye.
Dessert, Grace decided. She’d tell him after dessert.
“I’m surprised you have time to spend over here with everything you’re doing for the Overtons,” David said, smoothly transitioning from attorney-at-war to grade-school sniping with Avril.
“That family still needs help,” Avril said. She was in the kitchen rocking chair, holding Leo in the crook of her arm like the plump, freckled baby he was. An unwary observer might have thought she looked grandmotherly until she kept talking. “You’d be surprised how many narrow-minded people judge that family without regard for the facts. Narrow-minded, ignorant people.”
“Now Avril,” Niki chimed in. “Just because they let Whitney go doesn’t mean she and Hallie are totally innocent.”
“She’s right,” David said, then looked confused when he realized he’d agreed with Niki.
“And,” Niki continued, “it isn’t good for the Inn at Delaney House to have attempted murderers in the neighborhood.”
“There’s no such thing as an attempted murderer,” David said with a snort, ending their brief alliance. “And, I’m telling you, that’s a pretentious, stupid name for an inn.”
“Really? Believe me, David, no one cares what you think.”
David’s face went an unhealthy shade of red. He knew Niki wasn’t talking about the inn’s name.
“Children,” Grace said as she cleaned sauce from her fingers. “Play nice or go home, please.”
Niki smirked at David. “She means you. I live here.”
“That can change,” Grace replied. “We’re not listening to anymore, understand?” She patted her rounded abdomen to reinforce who was included in the ‘we.’ Emotional blackmail was an unexpected bonus of pregnancy. Every day she vowed to only use her super power for good, and every day she failed, but she meant well.
“That’s right,” Avril said as if she weren’t a part of the argument. “Besides, Hallie received probation. And court-ordered counseling, which that poor child desperately needs.”
Leo grunted and shifted around for a better cuddle. Louise, who’d slept through everything else, woke and sat up to survey the situation. And to get ear scratches.
“Well, that was an easy fix for everyone, wasn’t it?” David snapped. After an apologetic glance at Grace, he turned his attention to checking emails on his phone.
Avril sputtered on about arrogant blowhards, while Grace and Niki ate cake.
It had been three months since Melanie had killed Sawyer Renne, and Hallie had saved Aidan from drowning. The Overtons still lived next door to Avril, and most conversations in the village wound around to them at some point.
“I’m representing Whitney,” Grace said when she could see David was getting antsy again, “but since all the charges against her were dropped, it’s only mopping up and handling a few odds and ends for Melanie’s attorney. I’m doing most of that from home because you and Cyrus seem to agree about my work schedule. Besides, he has Jake now, and the two of them drive me crazy at the office.”
She got up to clear away her dishes and cut another small piece of cake.
In typical David fashion, he wouldn’t let it go. “You shouldn’t be stressing out over things like this. I told you I’d take Whitney as a client.”
“I’m not stressing over anything, and Whitney can’t stand you, so drop it.”
Niki and Avril, recognizing the changing timbre of Grace’s voice, wisely kept silent.
“And stop winding everyone up about the Overtons,” Grace added. “Melanie will be sentenced soon, and the family will settle near her, which is unlikely to be anywhere on the Eastern Shore.”
“Sorry,” David muttered.
Grace smiled and said, “We’re fine but tired of noise. Sweet Pea wants to enjoy her dessert in peace, so if you could dial it down a few notches, she’d be grateful.”
“It’s a boy,” David said. “And you should be in bed, and give up sugar, but what the hell, I’m not going to win any arguments around here.”
Grace stretched and yawned. “Actually, I feel like taking a nap. Why don’t you count that as a win?”
Niki neatly distracted David by saying she’d heard Heath Overton had been sighted in Ocean City and in the Outer Banks. “There’s a new story every time I turn around. What do you think about the rumors that he really isn’t dead? Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Why do you do that?” David asked. “I’m trying not to make Grace mad, and there you go throwing out asinine questions I can’t pass up. Why would you repeat such a thing?”
Niki shrugged. “It could be true. Why not? The body was all mangled, and it’s possible the DNA test was wrong. If it wasn’t him in the dumpster, he got out free. That’s something Aidan says. Said. Whatever. Anyway, don’t tell me it doesn’t intrigue you a little. Maybe Heath just drove away in that Land Rover they never found and left the turmoil for everyone else to handle.”
It was too much for David. “The Land Rover was dumped somewhere and probably chopped up for parts after his loving wife drove it to Atlanta. Before Grace’s clients smothered her, that is. Why am I arguing with you? Any reasonable person believes an official autopsy.” After another pointed look from Grace, he stood up. “All right, I’m off.” He walked over, picked up her empty cake plate and kissed the top of her head. “Walk me out to the car?”
They ignored Niki’s overly cheery ‘Buh-Bye,’ and Avril’s mumbled parting shot, which would have required a fresh argument if David had acted like he’d heard it.
“So, you’ve gotten a contract on our house,” he said when they reached his car.
Grace nodded. She’d given him the details in an email and didn’t intend to discuss it. The issue of the house near Queenstown had been settled weeks ago.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go to settlement,” he said. “I have the baby’s trust fund set up.”
It was an acceptable solution to the awkward problem of a house neither of them wanted. And because it seemed easy and straightforward, she knew trouble was coming, but for now, it worked.
A black pickup slowed to a stop in front of the house. If David noticed, he didn’t show it as he gave her a quick hug, then fired up the Porsche and backed out of the driveway. If McNamara heard the Porsche’s gears grind when it took the corner, he didn’t show it as he joined Grace on the porch.
“Everything okay?” he asked, and got his answer when she came into his arms.
“Everything is perfect,” she said.
And for a while, it was.
Before You Go…
Thank you for reading Bad Intent!
Your time is valuable, and I am so happy that you chose to spend it with me. If you have another few minutes to spare and would like to leave a review on Amazon, Goodreads, or anywhere else, I’d be very grateful.
I hope you’ll stay in touch with me for the latest updates on the Eastern Shore Mysteries. My website has news, plus a little taste of Maryland’s beautiful Eastern Shore. I’m also on Facebook and Twitter.
Drop me an email — I’d love to hear from you!
Website: www.CherilThomas.com
Email: [email protected]
Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/cherilthomas
Author’s Note
Bad Intent had a rocky start, due in no small part to my own hubris. Sometimes my optimistic approach to life borders on the delusional. I have several special people to thank for pushing me to the finish line. You all deserve medals.
Ron Thomas — a marvelous chef and alpha reader with the patience of a saint. He is the best husband on the planet, and when I tell him so, he just says, ‘what?’. That and ‘I can’t hear you,’ keep him sane.
Helen Chappell — Editor and friend to Grace and me. Helen’s amazing career as a prolific author, editor, and teacher make her a wonderful gift to all of us lucky enough
to work with her.
Clara Ellingson, Cindy Haddaway, Olivia Hosken, Tarah Kleinert, and Roxanne Tury are eagle-eyed alpha readers who generously gave their time and energy to help me wrap up the final draft. I’m so lucky to have you all, and I am so grateful for the many hours you spent on my behalf. ‘Thank you’ just isn’t enough for you wonderful people. Chocolate comes closer, don’t you think?
The book that became Bad Intent began with the vague idea of a story about unconventional families — those that work, and those that don’t, and those that might, if only. It was a fun book to write, and all along the way, I was reminded how blessed I am.
Ron, Patrick, Kate, James, and Jack — you have all my love. I’m grateful for each of you every day.
Easton, Maryland
March 2020
About the Author
Cheril Thomas is the author of the Eastern Shore Mysteries series. She is also the co-author of a mystery novel, Whispers, and is a published short fiction author.
When she's not writing at home in Easton, Maryland, she's traveling with her long-suffering husband, an otherwise brilliant soul who for some reason doesn't mind being married to a woman who researches methods of murder. Together, they live to serve Gracie the Wonder Dog, a too-smart-for-her-own-good shaggy black Goldendoodle.
Find out more about Cheril, the Eastern Shore Mysteries, and the beautiful Eastern Shore at
www.CherilThomas.com.
BAD INTENT
© 2020 Cheril Thomas
ALL RIGHTS
RESERVED.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form whatsoever, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any informational storage or retrieval system without express written, dated and signed permission from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and dialogue are a product of the author’s imagination and are not real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is fictionalized or coincidental.
Thomas, Cheril, Bad Intent, (An Eastern Shore Mystery). 2020. ISBN: 978-1-7334121-3-1 (Paperback version)
TRED AVON PRESS
www.TredAvonPress.com
Easton, Maryland, USA
Book cover by Mibl Art Studio
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