“Thank you, Nell.” I laid one hand on her arm. “I appreciate this, and I know Lucas does, too.”
“Just doing my job.” She offered me a smile. “We want you and Lucas to be safe. When everything is said and done, we’re a team, and we’re all integral to making sure we can stop the Hive. I have a vested interest in keeping you both alive and well.”
“Still.” I looked out the window, over to Mrs. Mac’s house. Rafe and Charlie had gone inside, and I imagined the three of them laughing together as they visited. Mrs. Mac was probably regaling them with stories of the pageant. “The longer we can stay down here, the better I feel. I’m worried about leaving everyone I love, you know? It feels like I’m choosing my own safety over theirs.”
“You’re not, though. You’re making the hard choice to keep them safe by putting yourself at risk.” She followed my gaze out the window, pensive, and I wondered what was crossing her mind. “I had a similar conversation with Rafe on our way here. He’s understandably worried about his grandparents, once everything starts going down. He’s been trying to work out some place where they could go, and he wanted to talk to them about making plans.” Nell shook her head. “But his gram absolutely refused. She said there’s no way she’s being shuffled off just when she might be needed.”
“The difference is that Rafe’s grandparents are in the loop. They know what we’re potentially facing, and they can make an informed decision. The people I love have no idea. Lucas and I will go away, and we’ll have to make up some kind of cover story to explain why. If everything works out and we win, then everything’s okay. We come home, and life goes on. But if it doesn’t . . .” A lump rose in my throat. “If it doesn’t, then at some point our friends and family will be in danger. They could be . . . destroyed, and they’ll never know that we left to try to save them.”
“I’m sorry, Jackie.” Nell didn’t argue with me. She never sugarcoated the hard things in life. “I wish it were different. But all we can do is our damnedest to destroy this thing once and for all. We have to give it everything we’ve got. But meanwhile, trust that all of us—including Cathryn—are working as hard as we can so that you and Lucas can stay here—and be safe.”
“I know. Thank you for that.” I inhaled deeply. “Do you need anything from me for this spell? Or should I get out of your way?”
She shook her head. “No. Stay with me, please. You have a very comforting aura, Jackie. You . . . put me at ease, which means the magic flows better.”
One side of my mouth curved up. “I guess that’s something. Okay, then, I’ll just sit here and be comforting.” I maneuvered around a box of dishes and dragged out a kitchen chair. “Tell me if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
Nell closed her eyes again. This time when she raised her hands, I could sense something stronger flowing over us both. If I’d been pressed, I might have described a purple color, although I might not have been able to say precisely what it was.
It didn’t take long before she stopped, sighed and took the seat across from me. Her face was peaceful.
“That should do it. If there’s any kind of disturbance, I’ll be in touch right away, and we—”
The door opened, and Lucas came into the kitchen, frowning as he glanced around the room. If he was surprised about the boxes or even Nell’s presence, he didn’t give any indication. Instead his eyes sought mine, and my heart sank when I saw the worry there.
“Jackie, where’s Mrs. Mac?”
I pointed out the window. “She’s at her house. Rafe and Charlie are over there with her. Why, what’s wrong?”
Lucas ran a hand through his hair. “There’s been another murder. Another pageant contestant is dead. She was strangled, just like Mrs. Schmidt.”
My mouth went dry. “Who was it?”
He gripped the back of a kitchen chair and stared down at me. “Her name was Rachael Hilton.”
“HOW COULD YOU not tell me?” Mrs. Mac covered her face with both hands and asked the same question she had been repeating for the past thirty minutes. “You let me say all those horrible things about poor sweet Norma . . . and all the time, you knew she’d been murdered? And now Rachael.” She glared first at Lucas and then at me. “And remind me again how you knew Norma’s death was unnatural?”
Lucas sighed. “I have a source of information. But I couldn’t say anything to you until there were more details available.”
“So I was in danger this whole time and neither of you cared about that?” She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at us. “Let’s face it. If someone is bumping off the contestants most likely to win the Ms. Florida Senior Living crown, I’m the one who’s next on the list.”
“We’ve been watching out for you, Mrs. Mac. Of course we have.” I spread my hands. “But we didn’t want to alarm you or make you worry before we were certain about what was going on.” I glanced over my shoulder at Charlie, who was sitting silently with us at Mrs. Mac’s table. “That’s why Lucas and I have been trying to make sure you’re never alone.”
“Hmph.” The elderly lady remained unconvinced. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
I had a hunch that being out of the information loop was the bigger issue here for my friend. She hated being the last to know about anything, and that probably outweighed any fear she might have had about the threat to her very life.
Rafe and Nell, wise as they were, had beat a hasty retreat after Lucas and I had broken the news about Rachael Hilton to Mrs. Mac. Just before they pulled away, Rafe had rolled down his window.
“We’ll try to be back next week for the pageant. And the brunch.” His grin had broadened. “Wouldn’t miss that for the world. Good luck, beautiful.”
“You’re assuming that any of the contestants are going to live long enough to compete.” My stomach was still roiling from the news. “This is serious, Rafe. I know it’s not a threat to the world at large, like what you and Nell are seeing every day, but it’s a threat to our world.”
“I know.” He’d gotten serious right away. Bless his heart, Rafe loved Mrs. Mac, too. I knew he was worried. “But as Lucas pointed out, we don’t see any clear motive for rubbing out the would-be beauty queens. This might just be coincidence, a series of breaking and enterings that went bad. Lock your doors at night, and watch out for all of your neighbors.” He’d winked at me. “To tell you the truth, I’d bet on Mrs. Mac against any thief trying to steal her stuff. And if she ran into someone who wanted to keep her from that competition? No contest at all. She wants this crown bad.”
Rafe was right, I knew. At this moment, Mrs. Mac was more embarrassed about the way she’d talked in the wake of Norma’s death than she was fearful for her life. And with her next words, she revealed her biggest worry.
“You don’t think they’ll cancel the pageant, do you?” She laid one small, blue-veined hand over her heart. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to do this. They just can’t take the chance away from me. Not now when it’s so close I can practically taste it.”
Lucas shook his head. “From what I hear, the pageant connection is just one theory the police are considering. It could still be a coincidence.”
“Really?” I was skeptical. “Three contestants dead, and that’s a coincidence?”
“Three?” Mrs. Mac glanced from me to Lucas. “Who’s the third? Norma, Rachael . . .?”
“The first one was Judy Conrad,” Lucas replied. “Although the police didn’t consider her death a homicide until they took another look at it in the wake of Mrs. Schmidt and Mrs. Hilton being murdered, apparently they’re no longer sure that the fall that killed her was accidental.”
“Mrs. Mac.” I leaned forward and covered her hand with mine. “Has there been anyone in the pageant who seems especially, uh, intense about winning? Anyone who might be crazy enough to try to bump off the competition if she was worried it was the only way she might be able to win?”
My friend gazed back at me, misery etched on he
r lined face. “Just one.” Her bottom lip trembled a little. “Only . . . me.”
I sat back in my chair. “What’re you saying?” Surely this wasn’t a confession. I knew Mrs. Mac could take things a bit too far at times, but she wasn’t a murderer.
“I’m just saying that all the other contestants look at this pageant as a lark. Most of them were winners back in the day. They all had crowns when they were young and spry. To them, this is nothing more than a community event to raise money for charity. I’m the only one who’s never been a beauty queen. I’m the only one who cares about winning.” Tears swam in her eyes. “But I swear, I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill Norma or Rachel or Judy. I wouldn’t even think of it.”
“Of course you didn’t.” I patted her shoulder. “No one thinks you’re a suspect. And there’s nothing wrong with wanting to win, Mrs. Mac. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for that.”
“I don’t.” She shook her head. “I blame my father. If he’d only have let me compete when I was younger, I wouldn’t care so much now.” She heaved out a deep breath. “But there’s no use in crying over spilled milk, is there?” She squared her small shoulders. “All right, then. What do we do now? How can we catch this terrible murderer? You’ll use me as bait, of course.”
My mouth opened to protest this idea, but before I could say anything, the doorbell rang. Lucas jumped to his feet, as though to protect us all, but Mrs. Mac only shook her head.
“Calm down. I don’t expect the killer to stand on niceties like doorbells if he—or she—is coming to do me in.” She stood up and headed for the living room to answer the door, with the three of us trailing in her wake.
The man who stood on Mrs. Mac’s small front porch was tall and thin. His blond hair was nearly colorless and slicked back from a narrow face. He was dressed impeccably in a suit that fit him like a glove and a tie knotted perfectly at his neck. This dude would’ve appeared to fit in on Wall Street or on the sidewalks of Manhattan, but here in Palm Dunes, where dressing up for men meant a fresh Hawaiian shirt and clean shorts, he seemed to be out of place.
“Good afternoon.” He offered Mrs. Mac his hand, and when she took it, he turned it and lifted the back to his lips in a weird imitation of the old courtly gesture. “You must be Mrs. MacConnelly. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’m—”
“Oh, I know who you are.” Mrs. Mac yanked her fingers away and put her hands on her hips. “You’re that snake oil salesman who’s been sweet-talking all the ladies into selling their homes. I knew it was just a matter of time before you made your way around to this part of Golden Rays. Well, buddy, you’re out of luck here. I’m staying in my house until they carry me out feet first. So go sell your story somewhere else, Mr. Augustus Row.”
Ah. So this was the real estate agent Mrs. Mac had been ranting about a couple of weeks back, I realized. I’d forgotten all about it, what with the pageant, the murders and the impending doom of the world ending.
“Ma’am, you have me all wrong.” Augustus Row smiled, and I would have sworn charm was oozing from his pores. But it wasn’t the kind that Rafe exuded; this guy made me feel as though I needed a shower. “I don’t want to try to talk you into anything. I only stopped to offer my condolences in the wake of these shocking losses. I saw that you, too, are in the running for the Ms. Florida Senior Living crown, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I was to hear of the untimely passing of Mrs. Schmidt and Mrs. Hilton.” He flicked open one hand and offered Mrs. Mac a small cream-colored square of paper. “And if you feel that in light of these murders, you no longer wish to live in a neighborhood where innocent women aren’t safe, I’m more than happy to assist you in finding a new, safer community.”
“She’s plenty safe here.” I stepped up, glaring at the man. “Mrs. Mac is surrounded by friends and neighbors who have her back twenty-four/seven. She’s not going to be coerced into giving up the home she loves.”
Augustus glanced from me to Lucas to Charlie, all of us forming a united backing to our friend. An expression I couldn’t decipher skittered across his face.
“How refreshing to see such a show of support.” He beamed at Mrs. Mac, but like just about everything else involving this guy, it felt fake. Phony. “You’re a very lucky woman.”
“Yes, I am.” She gripped the door knob and began easing the door closed. “So if you’ll excuse us, I don’t think you have any more business here. As a matter of fact, I don’t think you have any more business in this whole neighborhood. I think you should hit the road, buddy.” Mrs. Mac swung the door forward, slamming it in the surprised face of Augustus Row.
For a moment, we were all silent. And then Mrs. Mac turned toward us, her eyes sparkling with renewed determination.
“All right now. We have a lot to do, and not much time to make it all happen.” She pointed at Lucas. “You need to come up with an effective plan for catching the sicko who’s bumping off pageant contestants.” Next her finger moved to Charlie and me. “And you two need to finalize all the plans for the brunch.”
I quirked one eyebrow. “And just what are you going to be up to while the rest of us are on these missions, Mrs. Mac?”
She smiled at me, and it was a sight both terrifying and wonderful to behold. “I’ll be busy rehearsing my number for the pageant. I have a crown to win.”
“Mrs. Mac just called to report that she is going to bed. The house is locked up, and Charlie’s going to be awake for a while. Apparently she’s still working on the menu and the pricing for the brunch.” Dropping my cell on the coffee table, I sank into the couch next to Lucas. “So all is well in the world. For now, anyway.”
“Good to hear.” Lucas drew me close to his side, snaking his arm around my waist. “Suggesting that Charlie stay with Mrs. Mac until we’re sure she’s safe was an excellent idea, too. I feel better knowing they’re looking out for each other.”
“And the fact that it gives us a little more privacy?” I snuggled against his solid warmth. “How does that make you feel?”
“Hmmm. Maybe I should show you that, instead of trying to tell you.” Lucas shifted to face me more fully, nudging my chin up so that he could reach my lips. His kiss was soft and relaxed at first, a gentle touch, and then he deepened it, urging me to open to him.
With a groan that vibrated into my mouth, he gripped my hips and swung me around to straddle his body, never breaking our kiss. I laughed against his lips and pressed my breasts into his chest, thinking how glad I was to have this little bit of time to ourselves after the craziness of the day. We hadn’t figured out what was happening with what the local press had dubbed the Pageant Princess murders (privately, I thought it was quite a stretch to refer to these contestants as princesses, but I assumed the need for alliteration trounced the desire for strict accuracy). But on the positive side of things, the unexpected visit from Augustus Row had given Mrs. Mac a renewed determination to win the pageant and had distracted her from being upset with Lucas and me.
I felt a little safer, too, knowing that Nell’s spell was firmly in place. Even though we hadn’t had any threats from the supernatural quarter yet, it was comforting to be able to trust that we had one less worry.
And one less worry meant I could take this brief moment to enjoy my boyfriend without guilt or second-guessing myself. Grinding my core against the ridge of his burgeoning desire, I trailed kisses along his jaw.
“What was that?” There was strain in Lucas’s voice. “Is someone knocking?”
“Mmmmm . . .” I nuzzled his neck. “Just my heart. You’re making it pound.”
“No, really.” Lucas eased me away, and I caught the spark of concern in his eye. “Someone’s knocking at the door. It could be Mrs. Mac or Charlie.”
Without any further ado, he dumped me onto the couch cushion and stood up, making for the front door. I scowled at his departing back. Couldn’t we catch a freaking break? Just one evening without any interruptions?
As if to underscore the answer to that question, my
phone began to buzz from its spot on the coffee table. Muttering to myself, I grabbed it and answered.
“Yes? What?”
“Jackie? It’s Nell. Is everything all right there? I got a ping on the protection spell.” She spoke with quiet urgency. “Where are you? Is Lucas all right?”
Fear spiked in my heart. “Yeah, he’s with me. Shit. Someone just knocked on the door, and . . .” I trailed off as Lucas came back into the living room. Just in front of him stood a familiar woman. Long black hair fell in a silken curtain around her slender body, and ice-blue eyes regarded me with cautious resignation.
The night I’d seen her at the Perfect Pecan Pie Festival, she’d been dressed in a long skirt and a flowing jacket. Tonight, she wore fitted jeans in a deep blue wash and a black scoop necked long-sleeved shirt. Even so, there was no mistaking her identity.
“It’s Veronica,” I breathed into the telephone. “She’s here in my house. With Lucas and me. You need to tell Cathryn.”
“Jackie.” Veronica held out one hand, palm toward me, as though to ask that I slow my words. “I’m not here to do anyone any harm. I promise. I came at Lucas’s request.” She glanced up at him. “Please. Tell my granddaughter there is no need to fear me. I’m on your side.”
With my eyes glued to the vision in front of me, I spoke slowly into the phone. “Nell, she says—”
“I heard her.” Nell was tense. “Unfortunately, none of us are in any position to take her words for truth. I’m going to call Cathryn now, and then . . . I’ll be in touch. Keep your phone nearby and call me if you need us.”
“Okay,” I answered, but the click on the other end told me that Nell had disconnected before I’d spoken.
Death Over Easy Page 7