Speak Easy Speak Danger

by Sharon G Clark

  “Maybe you should call your husband,” Nicholas suggested. “Or someone. Having a loved one’s support will help calm you.” He smiled. “Can always use the loved ones close by to feel safe. Especially at trying times.”

  As soon as the woman was securely established inside the home, the police called, and the car arrived outside, Fiona and Nicholas left. They took their time to walk back to the car, her more gingerly.

  “You think we should have stayed?” Nicholas asked.

  Fiona snorted. “Yeah, and have Warren show up? He’s going to hear about this and our part soon enough.”

  When they got to the car, Nicholas opened the passenger door, then closed it when she was inside. Once he drove away, he said, “There’s a place in Colorado Springs that will let me develop my film any time, day or night. I’ll drive up after I drop you off. I snapped a picture of him before the incident, which should assist with the investigation. How about early in the morning, we take the picture to Jo’s friend, the kid cop?”

  “Randall,” Fiona said.

  “I know.” He smirked. “Making sure you’re still with me.” Fiona shook her head. “How are you feeling by the way? A couple good kicks you took back there. Better you than me.”

  “How gallant of you to say so.”

  Nicholas gave a short nod. “Glad you understand. Bad enough that I touched the wretched, filthy creature and will need another bath. Can’t imagine if I’d become disheveled in the nasty process.”

  Fiona broke out into a full belly laugh, which quickly reminded her of a tender and abused stomach. “Ow, ow,” she moaned exaggeratedly. “I’m in pain, and you’re worried about being disheveled.”

  “Certainly. Knew you would understand,” Nicholas said, then flashed her an exaggerated wink.

  Fiona made herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table. She hadn’t turned on any lights, preferring to sit in the relative dark, lit only by moonlight streaming through the open curtains. Her head hurt again. Nothing new or unexpected, even if she didn’t know the cause. On top of the migraine, Fiona’s stomach remained tender from the tramp’s kicks.

  One thing was clear. She never had to look for trouble. Trouble followed her like a second shadow. Fiona scoffed. Well, she did kind of put herself in a dangerous situation today. On the positive side, had she and Nicholas not followed the tramp, the young mother may have been, more than likely, another victim of a murderer. Fiona didn’t want to think about what the poor woman would have suffered at the hands of that brute. Even if he weren’t the killer, his intentions were less than honorable. She hoped, when they took his picture to the police, the man would quickly be apprehended. One problem on her long personal list would be solved.

  Now? Fiona needed to figure a way out of her current dilemma. Clearly, the matter of her migraines and periodic blindness were not issues that were going to evaporate on their own. She didn’t know what to do. Fiona had a family to care for, to protect, to support. The idea of being incapacitated, even for a little while, was inconceivable. She knew it wasn’t a certainty, just a probability. It was enough to put her in a panic. Enough to consume her feelings of helplessness and dread.

  Fiona finished her tea and brought the cup to the sink. Dammit. How much longer could she postpone the matter before she had no choice but to tell Margaret? She hated not having a plan. Not having specifics in tidy order before she could approach Margaret with the matter—which would affect them all.

  She needed more time. More time to think about the subject and find a resolution. Margaret was her heart, her soul. Fiona couldn’t crush either for her wife. Margaret had to be protected and cared for, and Fiona’s job to accomplish that task. If she believed prayer could work, Fiona would be on her knees. However, that avenue never worked for her in the past. Never brought her mother and brother back. Never kept her father from beating her near to death on so many occasions. Never protected her from Jimmy Bennett. No, Fiona had no expectations prayer would work now, either.

  The silence of the house and the privacy of her thoughts were broken by the soft snick of the back door lock being turned. Fiona twisted toward the sound, reached behind her, and into the drawer, pricked her finger before pulling a knife free, as a dark figure slipped into the room. The stench of unwashed body and dried sweat and food filled the kitchen. Fiona clenched the knife handle tighter, holding it beside her leg and out of sight. Geez, did he smell this strong earlier?

  “I believe you’re in the wrong house,” she said quietly. Fiona didn’t want to alert or frighten the women sleeping upstairs. “Leave now, before the situation gets uglier than you are.”

  He snorted, raised his arm, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. The move, though disgusting, was deliberately made to make Fiona aware of the gun in his hand. “Funny, bitch. Have a good laugh before I kill you for spoiling my fun today.” He grinned. In the faint illumination of moonlight, Fiona could tell he had few teeth. Those remaining were stained and rotted. He cocked his head to the side. “Then I’ll enjoy time with the ladies of the house since you got in my way once.” Smirking, he asked, “Should I kill you outright, or let you watch?”

  Fiona clenched her teeth. Why did men have to be so loathsome? Why did everything boil down to the degradation and abuse of women? With extremely few exceptions, Fiona could see the world rid of men and not feel deprived or bothered by the loss. She took a step toward him. Fiona only had to be quick enough to bury the knife blade before he got a shot off. “Get out.” Fiona propelled herself forward, knife raised in her fist, as he pointed the gun in her direction.

  A shot rang out, deafening her, as a blaze of burning pain flared in her left arm.

  A spray of warm, sticky blood landed across her face when she buried the knife blade in the upper left shoulder of the tramp.

  A bright and blinding flash as the overhead light consumed the darkness.

  Two voices rang out.

  “Fiona!”

  Two bodies slammed to the floor with muffled grunts.

  Two sets of feet rushed into the room.

  Fiona slowly managed to get to a knee before a fist slammed into her jaw as she was pushed onto her back.

  “No, Jo, let him go,” Margaret yelled out, kneeling beside Fiona as Fiona tried to get to a seated position. She glanced up in time to witness Jo halt on the threshold of the back door, clearly anguished. The tramp got away. “Fiona, honey, are you okay?”

  Jo turned toward them as Brigid rushed into the kitchen. “I could have caught him, Margaret.” Jo crossed her arms over her chest after she slammed the door closed and reengaged the lock. “Fat good that’s gonna do.” Jo dragged a chair over and shoved it under the doorknob.

  “Oh, of course, because he didn’t succeed in killing Fiona, so let’s give him a second chance with you.” Margaret’s voice rose with every word. “And you, always the knight looking for a dragon to slay. Do you even care how your actions affect the rest of us?” Margaret’s words hurt, but Fiona understood she was scared.

  Fiona glanced at her and saw the panicked expression on Margaret’s face as tears streamed down her cheeks. She reached up and wiped at them, as Brigid brought a dampened towel and pressed it to Fiona’s arm. She’d managed to forget about the injury until that moment and responded with a hissing intake of breath.

  Margaret glared at her. “Is there something we should know about our late-night visitor?”

  “Did you and Nicholas learn something?” Jo asked, more eager than accusing. Fiona nodded. “You must be on to something if tonight’s any indication.”

  “We need to get to you to a hospital,” Margaret said. Her hands were shaking as they reached for her. “A doctor needs to tend to…” Margaret swallowed hard, new tears flowed. “I can’t believe you’ve been shot again.”

  Fiona pulled Margaret into a tight hug. Margaret’s sobs increased, and Fiona felt the tears dampen the material at her shoulder. “Hush, honey. We’re okay. I�
�m okay.” Fiona placed a kiss to Margaret’s temple. “We don’t need the hospital. There will be too many questions, too many people to get involved.”

  “You mean with Warren, don’t you?” Jo asked from beside them.

  “What does Warren have to do with this?” Brigid asked, a tad too defensively. Fiona wasn’t certain how best to reply. She didn’t need to worry.

  Jo shrugged. “There’s oodles of paperwork, a lot of wasted time answering questions with obvious answers. And truly, the only cop I trust entirely is Ian.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, Randall, too, but I don’t want him to get so deep in our affairs he gets into trouble.”

  Margaret appeared to have regained her composure. She pushed Fiona back an arm’s length. “Brigid, would you get some antiseptic and bandages, please? Sit down, Fiona, and take your shirt off.”

  Fiona gave a mischievous grin. “Should we do this in front of the kid?” She sat back down in the chair, felt a bit woozy, hoped it was due to stress, and not because the wound was worse than she wanted it to be.

  Jo shoved her hands on her hips. “Hey, I’m not a kid anymore.” Brigid returned with the items Margaret requested, placed them on the corner of the table, and then filled a bowl with hot tap water. Once that was brought to the table, Margaret began cleaning blood from the wound.

  “So, fill us in. What’s going on?” Jo said, impatiently.

  “Nicholas and I followed a hunch. In the process, tonight’s visitor attacked Mrs. Nora Spiegel.” Fiona explained the events of the morning. “Nicholas got a picture of him and went to a friend in Colorado Springs to get the film developed. We planned to take the picture to the police station in the morning, so they know who they’re looking for.”

  “Do you think he knew you took the picture?” Brigid asked.

  Fiona shook her head. “No, I think he was ticked off I spoiled his intended assault and murder. If nothing else, we could describe him.” She winced when Margaret hit a particularly sensitive spot. Fiona glanced at Margaret, who focused on tending to her injury. In a soft whisper, she asked, “What’s the verdict, my love?”

  Margaret gave a wry smile. “It’s a flesh wound mostly. Should have stitches, but I’ll do what I can. Going to be sore for a while.”

  “Why don’t you two go back to bed,” Fiona said. “Margaret and I will clean this up.” Jo, after a sympathetic glance toward Fiona, and Brigid left the room. Margaret finished by tying off the bandage and took the blood-tinged bowl of water to the sink. Fiona moved to stand behind Margaret, wrapped her arms around Margaret’s waist, and kissed just below her ear. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t anticipate that he’d come here. I love you and wouldn’t consciously put you in harm’s way.”

  “I know this isn’t your fault, Fiona. Not really. It’s just—” Margaret’s shoulders began to shake. Fiona realized she’d begun to cry again. “I understand you’re upset we followed this person, investigated on our own, but I could never forgive myself if I thought I’d been able to stop this tramp from harming that defenseless woman.”

  “You don’t know he’s the murderer,” Margaret said, her voice shaking and watery from her crying.

  “No, and neither Nicholas nor I intend to do more. We have a piece of evidence to supply the police. They will have it first thing in the morning. But I’ve done what I thought I could, what I thought right, to give Richard the peace of mind his mother’s killer has been caught.”

  Margaret spun in Fiona’s arms and squeezed hard. “I couldn’t handle it if something happened to you again. I nearly lost you once, Fiona. Please be careful.”

  Fiona inhaled deeply, Margaret’s flowery scent filling her nostrils, soothing her taut nerves. She cupped the back of Margaret’s head, threading her fingers in the thick fullness of her dark auburn hair. “I’m here to stay, honey. I’m done with the investigating and will leave it to the proper authorities after tomorrow. Everything will be fine, I promise.” Fiona winced inwardly. She couldn’t keep that promise, not until she addressed her migraines, the blindness. But what else could she do? Margaret needed to feel safe, needed to be safe. Fiona would say and do whatever it took to make sure that happened.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jo stood at the top of the ladder, working in the backroom of Tessa’s shop. She replayed events of last night’s intruder to their home when she heard Tessa come down the apartment stairs. She finished tightening the last screw holding the top of the cabinet in place. Jo wanted the space to be comfortable. The room in back would be the area where Tessa did most of her work and spent most of her daytime when not out front with customers. She’d hung a rod and attached a curtain to separate the front from the back, so Tessa had privacy but could hear the entrance of customers.

  “Just about done,” she said, leaning back and putting the screwdriver in one of the pockets of her coverall. She must have overcompensated her position because she lost balance and stumbled down the bottom three steps of the ladder. Before she could right herself, Jo felt sturdy arms wrap around her. Jo turned slowly in those arms.

  “Are you all right?” Tessa asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “More than all right,” Jo said. She reached her arms around Tessa and pulled her closer into the embrace. Jo smiled. “This is nice. I should slip from ladders more often.” Tessa smiled openly at her. Jo couldn’t help herself. She stared at Tessa for longer than intended before she lowered her head and brushed her lips across Tessa’s. Tessa’s eyes sparkled as she drew closer, shifted when Jo’s lips touched hers. Jo tugged her closer, and Tessa slowly relaxed in her arms. She lost track of time. Finally, Jo leaned back. “Gosh, that was—” The rush of exquisite pleasure coursed through her. She couldn’t get enough of Tessa. The quiet woman was smart, funny, caring, and above all, the first thing Jo thought of in the morning and the last thought at night. Now, kissing her, Jo recognized a deeper need for her.

  When Tessa spoke, her breath brushed across Jo’s lips. “I give you permission to kiss me anytime, without the ladder’s involvement.”

  Jo’s heart beat increased. “You do, do you?” Jo caressed the smooth skin of Tessa’s face along her jaw, then trailed a finger down to her neck, her shoulder, down her arm, resting the hand on a hip. She pulled Tessa tighter until they were flush against one another. Tessa’s arms went up to Jo’s neck, where they rested clasped behind Jo’s head. “Then let me see where the permission might end. It’s almost time to close for the day.”

  Jo opened a couple of the front buttons on Tessa’s dress, sliding her hand inside and smiled when Tessa inhaled a sharp breath. Jo kissed Tessa long and deep, the returned kiss just as demanding. Jo wanted to do this all day whenever Tessa was in the same room with her. It seems she needn’t have worried. When she tried to pull back, Tessa grasped and pulled harder, refusing to release Jo completely.

  And this, Jo thought, was the divine moment when you realized the woman in your arms had burrowed into your heart. The singular one intended for you. Words escaped her.

  Probably just as well neither had spoken. The curtain shifted, and Randall peered in after he cleared his throat. “Sorry for the interruption, ladies,” he said, averting his gaze from their direction.

  Jo shifted them, Tessa’s back to Randall, as she closed the buttons she’d opened. “Something I can do for you, Braddock?” Clothing returned to normal, Tessa stepped away so quickly, shame reflected in her expression, Jo felt a pang of hurt. It wasn’t like they were outside in a public place.

  Attention directed at Jo, he said, “Well, this explains a few things for me. Someone may need to explain the situation to the sergeant.”

  “Oh my God,” Tessa said. “Is he—” She tried to see behind him.

  Randall shook his head. “Stormed out here so fast I thought I’d make sure everything was okay.” His face flushed. “Seems all is better than well here. I’ll leave you to it.” With a precise about-face, Randall left the shop.

  After
Randall left, Jo returned her attention to Tessa, who, even with the distance Tessa put between them, Jo could tell was trembling. “Are you okay?”

  Tessa gave a nervous laugh. “Says something for your kisses, doesn’t it? I never heard the door or footsteps either time. I should have locked the door first.” Jo moved toward Tessa, but Tessa hastily stepped back. Jo felt a keen ache. She couldn’t have been more taken aback if Tessa had physically struck her. Jo picked up the jacket she’d tossed over a chair on her arrival, shuffled to the front door, her hand on the doorknob before Tessa spoke. “Jo, stop.” Jo did. “My reaction is from confusion. Please come back here.”

  “Are you embarrassed by me? Or because Warren and Randall caught us kissing?” She tried but didn’t believe she’d kept the distress from her tone.

  “Oh, Jo,” Tessa said. She hurried across the shop and stopped beside Jo, placing a hand on Jo’s on the doorknob. “Startled to be caught kissing surely. That’s because Warren will surely bring it up, and quite vocally, too. He knows how I am and who attracts me. He knows you are more than a friend to me. Knows but refuses to acknowledge this isn’t a matter of me going through a phase to upset him or my parents.”

  Tessa moved closer, and Jo felt heat suffuse her upper arm where Tessa’s breast pressed against it. “Embarrassed by you? Hardly. You’re why I get up in the morning. You’re why I look forward to the future of each new day. You’re always in my thoughts. But, embarrassed? Never. If I didn’t think we’d be stoned, or worse, I’d hold and kiss you in the middle of town. I’m so proud to have you. Proud that you’re my girlfriend.”

  “Then why pull away from me? You understand the depth of my feelings for you, don’t you?” Jo asked. Did Tessa not comprehend the full extent of Jo’s affection for her? Would Warren’s disapproval keep Tessa from moving further with a relationship? She should leave now, let Tessa come to terms with whatever caused her hesitation. “What should I do now? I want to keep you safe, not create more trouble for you.” Jo didn’t trust Warren not to respond with violence toward his sister.