I smirked, remembering the moment well. With any luck, I’d done permanent damage or Karen Holsten Juniors would be popping up in a year or so. I shivered.
“I was a little kid. Impetuous. No better than Beau.” My cheeks burned.
“How about in high school when the new Goth girl moved here from Seattle and carried a skateboard everywhere? Two guys from the football team pressed her to the wall of the field house.”
I stiffened at the memory. “Carl Machen grabbed her ass and Philip Dawson had his mouth on her neck when I rounded the corner after track. It scared me. There was no way that scenario would end without therapy and jail time.”
He chuckled darkly. “Your mom let me ride over to the police station and pick you up. You broke Carl’s nose with that skateboard.”
“I weighed a hundred pounds. Surprise was my only weapon.”
“Yeah. And a skateboard.”
The humor left as I recalled vividly the way they’d pawed her. Her silent tears burned right through me and I ran, grabbing the first thing heavy enough to hurt them. That moment depicted my life in a nutshell. Quick to act, slow to think. I hated it. Ten years gave a woman experience and self-control, but I still dove in head first, blindfolded and raging. The polar opposite of my sweet, level-headed parents.
“I’m not that girl anymore, Adrian.” I glanced his way because he’d see the lie if there was one, and I honestly didn’t know.
“You let me get away with everything.” He lowered his voice. His smile wavered.
A shaky breath dragged through my chest. “No. I just let you get away.”
Life blurred on those words. The colors around us swirled like water on an oil painting and the sounds of gulls, boats and passing cars ran together until only my confession remained.
Adrian’s hands fell between his knees as he rocked. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m right here.”
Had I subconsciously wanted him to leave me? Did I think he was better off without me? He probably was, especially then. The questions whirled inside my head. Was I so damaged I’d suppressed my feelings and motives, then blamed him for a decade? It was very possible. I never had Adrian’s enthusiasm, charisma or potential. As a kid, I was the town oddball. Weird parents. Strange lifestyle. I worked so hard to be normal. To be...better. I never felt good enough, let alone good enough for him.
He looked into my eyes with new intensity. “I know you blamed me all these years for leaving you behind when I went to college, but I spent my share of time blaming you for not trying to stop me. Patience Price doesn’t let things she believes in get away.” He formed his fingers in little air quotes around the last two words. “You fight for them.”
I cleared my throat, unable to speak.
Adrian looked into the street before us, politely averting his eyes from my tear-filled ones. “Remember how much you loved watching The Pink Panther? Even back then I thought you’d make a great detective.” He folded and unfolded his hands.
Nice transition. I blinked a few times and swallowed. “It wasn’t about the panther. I wanted his ultra-cool magnifying glass.”
Adrian laughed and a weight lifted off my aching shoulders. “The magnifying glass?”
“I wanted to see everything,” I confessed.
“You never needed a magnifying glass.”
My turn for a change of topics before our little heart-to-heart crossed the line from sweet and nostalgic to freak out and run. “I talked to the insurance company. They aren’t replacing my stuff. They determined the explosion was my fault.”
Adrian slapped the arms of the rocker with his palms. “Finally, something I agree with the insurance people about.”
“Shut up.”
“You haven’t had the best of luck.” He rocked slowly with a wicked grin. “How many cars have you gone through in the last three months?”
I reached across the space between us and flicked him. “None of those were my fault.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Obviously.” I forced a sour look, but he was right. It really was ridiculous. “It’s not like I incited any of the attacks on my car, office or person.”
“Or your car again or the office again, or your person...”
I laughed loud enough to cut him short. “Stop. I am not some crazy trouble magnet.”
Breaking glass turned our heads and made us twist our bodies in the rocking chairs. Bright sun shone around us, creating a perfect reflection in the twinkling glass of Adrian’s big office window.
We stood and leaned against the window for a look inside. “Do you see that, too?” I asked, straining my eyes. A small flicker danced on the floor inside his office.
Adrian cursed.
I touched his sleeve. “What is that?”
Adrian flew from his chair and through the doorway of his office. I followed as far as the threshold. The back window was shattered. Shards of broken glass littered the floor. A bottle lay on the floor with a flaming rag stuffed in the top. Adrian skidded to a stop and turned back, looking as if he’d seen the devil. Before I could pivot away, he tackled me and flames erupted behind him.
PFOOM!
My legs ached and my bottom thanked me for the extra milkshakes. Adrian managed his weight, keeping space between us on the ground.
“Molotov cocktail,” he screamed into my ringing ear. Smoke billowed over our heads.
I tipped my head to the ground, gaining a topsy-turvy view of the street. A flash mob snapped pictures with their cell phones and pointed. Adrian fumbled to his feet and tugged me up with him, dusting us both off.
He wrapped one arm around me and used the other to dial the police station. “My insurance company is never going to believe this. I shouldn’t have accused you of attracting trouble. Apparently trouble abounds.”
“No.” I coughed up a lung into the crook of my arm. “No, I’m pretty sure that cocktail was meant for me.”
“Excuse me?” He adjusted his hold on my waist and lifted my chin with his fingers.
“Chincoteague Police Station,” Frankie spoke through Adrian’s cell phone on speakerphone.
“Yeah, this is Adrian Davis. I need to report a fire at my office. Someone tossed a Molotov cocktail through my window.”
“Oh. Is Patience with you?”
I tossed my palms into the air.
Adrian grinned. “Yep.”
“I’ll be there in a minute to take the report. Sheriff Fargas is out and Special Agent Clark’s in an interrogation. Do you need a fire truck?”
A latent pop and minor flame burst behind us. “Yeah. Wouldn’t hurt.”
“On it.” Frankie disconnected.
“Anything you want to tell me?” he asked as his office burned.
“I think the killer might be trying to kill me a little.”
He smiled.
“Don’t smile!”
“I’m not smiling at your misfortune.” He kissed the top of my head and pulled me to his chest. “This is good news. If the killer threw the cocktail, then he isn’t sitting through an interrogation with your boyfriend, now is he? Mark and your parents just got alibis.”
“You’re assuming we can prove the killer threw the cocktail. Our only evidence is currently on fire.” My head pounded with adrenaline and stress. I pressed my cheek to his shoulder.
Adrian rubbed my back and chuckled. “I didn’t say it would be easy. I said it’s good news.”
Chapter Thirteen
The Tasty Cream kitchen staff had the fire out in Adrian’s office before Chincoteague Fire & Rescue arrived. Whoever made the little fire bomb needed practice. Aside from a burn in the floor, the only real damage was smoke related. As a result, my head pounded after sleeping above a singed campaign office all n
ight. I bought a carbon monoxide detector at the hardware store and slept with it. Just in case. I changed the batteries in my smoke detector before bed and shoved my mirrored dresser in front of my bedroom window. Due diligence shouldn’t be misconstrued as paranoia. I was fine.
Without the benefit of sunlight through my window, I relied on the alarm clock beside my bed to tell me when enough was enough. The alarm sounded too loud and too soon. I swung tired legs over the bed’s edge and stuffed my feet into worn-out slippers. First stop, the kitchen. I plugged in the Keurig and swallowed a few Tylenol. My rump was as sore as my neck, thanks to Adrian knocking me onto the sidewalk. My palms were scraped and my nose and throat burned from coughing through the night. I put a lot of faith in my little carbon monoxide detector. Staying at Adrian’s wasn’t an option, though he tempted me ruthlessly with promises of hot tubbing and multiple showerheads. My parents’ house was sad and empty. Sharing the room Sebastian rented at the inn was a big “no.” My new buddy, the carbon monoxide detector, was the only option.
I sucked down two cups of hot coffee and slid a cotton sundress over my head. In my experience, a cute dress, a swipe of lip gloss and bamboo wedges fixed most things. I dropped a saucer of milk on the stoop for Freud and went to see my folks. I’d asked Sebastian to tell them I wasn’t hurt, but since they’d already made their one phone call—to a psychic—it was on me to make sure they knew I was fine.
A couple of birders stood on the sidewalk at the bottom of my steps and watched until I climbed into the Pony cart. Weirdos. I took a left on Pony Circle and cut down the alley behind the police station. I parked beside Fargas’s old cruiser and hurried in the front door before a fire-wielding knucklehead threw another flaming bottle at me. Definitely vigilance, not paranoia.
“Hey, Patience.” Frankie smiled, a sure sign I looked better than I felt.
“Hi. Care if I visit my folks?”
“Sure.” Frankie swiveled in her chair, snagging the jail cell key off the rack behind her. “Your parents are a ton of fun. Growing up with them must’ve been a blast.”
Oh yeah, the blast-i-est. “Never a dull moment.” I followed her down the narrow hall through a haze of incense and tinny meditation music.
“Here you go.” She unlocked the door and slid it open. “I’ll let Sheriff Fargas and Special Agent Clark know you’re here.”
Yippee.
She left the door open and I walked in. Mom and Dad sat crisscross-applesauce on their braided rugs, facing one another with eyes closed, hands resting on their knees, open palms to the sky. I lowered myself onto the cot and flipped through the nearest magazine. Birds. I closed the book. Birding Magazine. Ugh. I tossed it on the table behind me and rolled onto my back. My eyes grew heavy, though I’d been awake less than an hour.
“Peepee!” Dad’s voice startled me awake. “I saw the open cell door and thought the fates tempted me.”
The thin mattress sank as he joined me on the cot and pulled my feet into his lap. “We missed you. How are you feeling?”
“Are you smoking again?” Mom moved her hands to prayer position and nodded.
“No.”
“Honey, we can smell it on your clothes.”
I couldn’t smell anything but patchouli and incense, but maybe I’d damaged the smell receptor in my brain. “It’s my clothes. The smoke damage from Adrian’s office crept into my place.” I pulled the fabric of my dress over my nose and sniffed. Nothing.
“Did Sebastian tell you I was safe? I figured you heard about the fire since you’re living at the police station.” My throat thickened. I shook off the sadness before it took hold. “I specifically asked him to reassure you. You have enough to worry about.”
“He did.” Mom shot a look in Dad’s direction. “He brought us dinner from the Veggie Basket and played cards with your father until after ten.”
“Their Cauliflower Curry is the best in the state.” Dad played with my toes like I was an infant. I shook him off.
“He drove into the city for vegan food?” I inched up on my elbows.
Dad shrugged. “Must have. Your fella’s got a mean poker face. Beat me every time.”
“You mean you haven’t talked to him?” Mom feigned nonchalance poorly.
I mulled over the fact that Sebastian had hung out with my parents and made nice but didn’t stop to check on me. Why bother sucking up to them if he and I were fighting? The logical thing to do when fighting with your significant other was talk to them, not their parents. And puh-lease. Making a twenty mile trip for vegan fare. Pfft.
“Honey?” Dad patted my feet. “We don’t know how long we’ll be in here and we have bills to pay. You think you could stop by the Pony a few hours a day for us? You don’t have to stay long. Maybe post the hours you’re available on the window. We’d feel much better knowing the show goes on.”
“Sure.” I planted my feet on the floor and leaned into Dad’s side. “Can I bring you anything when I come back?”
“Just your sweet face.” Dad squeezed my cheeks with his thumb and forefinger until my lips split like a fish.
“’Kay.”
* * *
A slew of locals milled around the Purple Pony’s locked door. When I climbed out of the Pony cart, Maple Shuster, the town scuttlebutt spreader, had her nose pressed to the glass. I ignored them all. Unlocking the door, I reached for the light switches without sticking my head inside. Once the shop was lit, I walked in.
“Opening up for your folks today?” Maple appeared at my side.
“Yes.” I powered up the cash register and turned on the stereo, flooding the store in sounds of Enya.
“How are they?” Maple leaned across the counter as if taking me into her confidence. “Your parents. How are they holding up over there?”
“Well.” I pictured their decked-out jail cell and the fact the cell door was still open when I left.
Hoards of people swarmed the shop, thumbing through T-shirt racks with eyes and ears glued to Maple and me. Half my brain hoped they came to buy something and not solely to snoop. The other half hoped they came to buy something and not kill me. I scanned the curious faces. Could one of them want me dead? Did one of these innocent shoppers frame my folks? They were all women, so signs pointed to no. Statistically speaking, women weren’t the strategic serial killing type, but then again, we weren’t just looking for a serial killer anymore. My stalker left coolers of body parts and threatening notes. My stalker was a grade A certified loon. Which could definitely be a woman.
“Lord have mercy.” Claire sashayed through the crowd and tears sprung to my eyes. Her sweet Southern drawl was a salve to my wounds. Lawd hav muhcy. He did. He’d sent Claire to save the day. “Would you look at this? I know people get more attention when they’re dead, but I guess on the island, jail works too.”
She bustled past Maple on five-inch hot pink stilettos. Her matching FBIs Do it Undercover shirt set off her white pedal pushers, purse and faux pearl necklace. The ensemble illuminated her flawless mocha latte skin and every eye in the place turned to take her in.
“Sebastian dropped this off for me at work.” She pointed to her crazy shirt. “It gets a lot of attention.”
I hugged her with all the energy I had left, which wasn’t much. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
She tapped her pink-and-white manicured nails against the counter. “I thought you could use a friend.”
I nodded.
Maple nodded.
Heads throughout the store nodded.
Claire looked around and shook her head.
“I can’t get a lead on the car that hit you. I’ve tried everything, but with no plates and nothing reported missing, it’s a dead end. There’s a demolition derby at the state fairgrounds, but no one there knows anything. I made the trip yesterday after work. According to the ticket taker, they use the worst cars for parts and drive monster trucks over them. Basically, the interviews were a bust and those drivers aren’t as charming as you might think.”
I tugged on my bottom lip.
Claire placed a hand on my back. “What can I do here? Let me help. What have I missed?”
I filled her in on the past twenty-four hours while “shoppers” hung on my every word.
“And they’re wearing shirts to persuade you one way or the other?” Like a true friend, she honed in on the real atrocity. Publicly choosing another person’s lover via cheap cotton apparel.
“Between the bodies washing up, the threats on my life and the sheer chaos these last seven days, I’m ready to combust. And I’m grouchy.” I slumped until my head hit the counter. “Owie.”
“Oh, honey.” Maple rubbed circles on my back. “It’ll be okay. You’ll find the one responsible, just like last time.”
I lifted my face. “Last time I found him because he came to kill me.”
“Oh dear.” Maple removed her hand from my back and thumped her chest. She burped. “Excuse me. I get gassy when I’m nervous.” Another one floated out in half a hiccup. She covered her mouth. “If only your dad was here. He always knows what to do.”
Murder Comes Ashore Page 15