Off the Books

by Lucy Arlington

  “No, Lynn. She wasn’t. She used you. You need help.”

  Without warning, Lynn lunged at me, knocking me back against the counter. The keys flew from my hand and landed on the floor. Before I could react, she pounced on them and made a break for it. But just as she reached the back door, it flew open, revealing a police officer with his gun drawn. “Stop!” he ordered.

  Then another officer stepped around him and grabbed Lynn, turning her hand, putting cuffs on her wrists. Right behind him came Sean, bypassing both officers and coming straight to me.

  “Zach’s upstairs,” I immediately told him. “He might be hurt.” I started for the back staircase. “And Cora’s in the living room. She needs help,” I said over my shoulder.

  Sean raced up the steps after me, shouting for another officer to see to Cora and then barking orders for medical assistance into his radio. At the top of the steps, I hesitated. I was facing a long hall, doors on either side. “Zach!” I called.

  Olive started barking from down the hall. I ran toward the sound, finding Zach inside one of the bedrooms, sitting on the floor, a dazed look on his face and feathers floating all around his head. Feathers?

  “Zach. Are you okay?” I asked, kneeling down next to him. My movement sent more feathers flying into the air.

  Above me, Sean was still talking into his radio, explaining our location. “Help’s coming, buddy,” he said, bending down. “What happened, do you know?”

  Zach’s eyes rolled around a bit. He finally answered, “She hit me with something. Completely blindsided me.” He waved his hand in front of his face and blew a raspberry. “What in the world?”

  I glanced around. Olive had managed to pull the comforter off the bed and was busy shredding it to pieces. Feathers were flying everywhere. “Stop that!” I scolded.

  Zach moaned and covered his ears. “Not so loud. Man, my head hurts.”

  “You don’t know what she hit you with?” Sean asked.

  “No idea,” Zach said, rubbing a spot on his forehead. “Whatever it was, it came out of nowhere.”

  As if to answer our question, Olive began nudging her nose at something under the comforter, finally revealing a billiard ball. She sat back, tongue out and panting. Her tail twitching expectantly. I picked up the ball and held it up to Zach’s forehead. “I think we found her weapon.” The shape of the ball was a perfect match for the round welt between his eyes. Apparently Pam was right when she said Lynn was a pool shark. A grin tugged at my lips as I took in Zach’s dubious expression. “Looks like you need to work on that batting average of yours,” I told him.

  I laughed. And Sean laughed, too. Poor Zach just moaned.

  *

  AMBULANCES SOON ARRIVED to transport both Zach and Cora to the hospital. They seemed fine, but the extra precaution seemed prudent in both cases. Olive was also being transported. By police cruiser, that was, straight to Bentley’s residence. I was the one to think of the idea. After all, the back of a police cruiser was designed to transport violent, hardened criminals to justice. It might just survive transporting Olive across town to Bentley’s condo. I’d recovered my purse and phone and called ahead to give Bentley a quick rundown on the events that had transpired. After hearing that not one, but two of her clients were murderers … well, let’s just say, if Franklin was right and dogs did lower blood pressure, then Bentley would be needing as much comfort as Olive could provide.

  “I hope Cora won’t mind me parking my Vespa in here,” I told Sean, who was helping me push my scooter into the carriage house behind the inn. He’d given me a police-issue jacket from his vehicle to cover my bare arms. I plodded behind him, the high heels of my sandals catching in the cracks of the snow-covered cobblestone path that ran between the main house and the carriage house.

  “I’m sure she won’t mind,” Sean replied. He reached up and pulled open the large wooden door and pushed my scooter inside. “It’ll at least stay dry in here. I’ll bring you back by tomorrow to pick it up.” Despite what must have been a rough ride over snow-covered roads, it didn’t seem to have sustained any damage. Thank goodness. Between saving for the wedding, and the extra demand on my grocery bill since Trey was home, there wasn’t much wiggle room in my budget for scooter repairs.

  “I almost feel sorry for Lynn,” I said, as he lowered the kickstand. “It’s almost like she was under Dr. Meyers’s spell. You should have heard her tell about it. Dr. Meyers had convinced Lynn that she’d never be free of Chuck until she’d helped get rid of him. Like it was part of a therapy to get out of her depression. She was so in awe of the woman.”

  “Still, she participated in murder. Premeditated murder. We have a full confession from Dr. Meyers.”

  “But what a waste. She’d already broken away from Chuck’s abuse. Found a way to make her life count for something. She’d found her passion … writing. But now she’ll never get a chance to know where it could have taken her.” I shook my head again. “Such a terrible waste of talent. Of a life.”

  We were back outside. Sean reached up and pulled the garage door shut. “Don’t worry, Lila. She’ll have a full psych workup. Her lawyer will make sure of it. Maybe she’ll finally get the help she needs.”

  “I know; it’s just that—”

  He had stopped and placed his hand under my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes. Those intense blue eyes that never ceased to mesmerize me. He put his finger to my lips. “We can talk all about the case another time. I’m just glad you’re safe.” A snowflake landed on my nose and he brushed it away, and then his eyes rolled skyward. I followed his gaze to the full winter moon, which hung in the sky like a luminous pearl. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said.

  I nodded. It was breathtakingly beautiful. The way the silver moonlight cast a bluish tinge to the sky, making the snowy white branches of a nearby tree seem to almost glow in the dark. All around us, big fluffy snowflakes fell, like glittery confetti. Cold, but beautiful. I shivered.

  “Cold?” he asked.

  “Well, this dress wasn’t exactly designed as outdoor wear.” I pulled the jacket he’d given me tighter around my body.

  “Did I mention that you look beautiful in it?”

  I shook my head and felt a grin tug at my lips. “No. You didn’t.”

  His eyes crinkled. “I’m a lucky man. You’re both beautiful and smart, Lila. You never cease to amaze me.”

  “Are you complimenting my sleuthing abilities, Detective?”

  A slight shadow overcame his expression and he dropped his hand. But after pausing a half beat, he shrugged and smiled again. “I guess I am. Maybe there’s something to all that mystery reading you do, after all.”

  I tilted my head back and laughed, really laughed. And it felt good. For the first time that week, I let go. I let go of my worries about Trey, work stress, the case, Mama, and … “Oh my goodness,” I said, snapping forward and looking into Sean’s amused expression. “My mother! I should go and give her a call.”

  Sean reached out, placing his hands on my shoulders. “She’s fine. I just talked to her a little while ago.”

  “You did?”

  “Yes. Bentley became concerned when you left the Arts Center so quickly. She assumed it was something with Althea, so she called me. I called the hospital and just barely caught her before she checked out. She was doing fine, but of course my call put her on edge. So when she got to your house she did what she always does when she’s on edge.”

  “Reach for a glass of Jim Beam?”

  He chuckled. “Well, probably that, too. But I meant she consulted her tarot cards. She must’ve seen something, because she called me twenty minutes later, all hysterical like, going on about this card and that … Heck, I have no idea what she was saying except that you were in trouble.”

  “Didn’t you already know that? I mean, didn’t Zach call 911?”

  Sean nodded. “He did. But all he said was something about how he’d solved Chuck Richards’s murder and how he had the killer corn
ered and we needed to come right away. Then he hung up.”

  “He didn’t say where?”

  “Nope. We were in the process of trying to track the cell signal when Althea called.”

  “I don’t understand. How did Mama know where I was just from her tarot cards?”

  “She didn’t.”

  “Then how—?”

  He grinned. “All those cards she was talking about … the Queen of Cups, the King of Swords, the Knight of this and that … Well, I got to thinking maybe her intuition was trying to tell her you were in a castle.”

  “A castle?”

  He pointed up at the turret, snow swirling around its spire. “A castle.”

  I shook my head in wonder. “Amazing.”

  He pulled me close, the warmth of his body enveloping me. “Yes. Amazing.” He bent down, his lips covering mine, warm, comforting with the snowflakes falling against our face. When we finally parted, he pulled back, reached in his pocket, and pulled out a small velvet box. “I was going to give this to you at dinner, but …”

  *

  “YOU’VE BEEN LOOKING at that thing for the last ten minutes,” Bentley chided. We were riding in her Lexus, headed toward Dunston. Olive was in the backseat, strapped in with a canine seat belt and riding contently. The rest of the car was loaded to the brim with every sort of doggie apparatus and toy imaginable.

  “I can’t help it.” I turned my finger this way and that, admiring the filigree engraving and the way the diamond sparkled against the vintage art deco setting. “It’s exactly what I dreamed about.”

  Bentley glanced across the seat. “I’m happy for you, Lila. I really am.”

  “Thank you.” I folded my hands and added in a more serious tone, “For everything. Especially for helping Lynn.” It had been a couple of weeks since Dr. Meyers’s and Lynn’s arrests. Bentley had retained one of the best lawyers in the area to defend Lynn. We were all hoping for a lenient sentence. As for Dr. Meyers, she’d fully confessed to everything. Even manipulating Lynn into becoming her co-conspirator. Personally, I wouldn’t have cared if they locked Dr. Meyers up and threw away the key. She’d connived such a twisted, evil plot. Someone like that should never be set free into society again. Not ever.

  On a positive note, Jodi was released from jail and her record completely expunged. Due to some clever write-ups, Bentley was able to turn the whole fiasco into a grand publicity campaign. Jodi’s sales had more than doubled in the past two weeks and propelled her to the top spot on the bestseller lists. There was no doubt she’d have a long and successful career ahead of her.

  Speaking of careers. I’d talked to both Bentley and Flora about Pam’s wish to switch genres. While they were both shocked by the news, and a little concerned how it would affect the agency’s bottom line, they showed Pam an amazing amount of support. I was glad. Because I’d read her mystery manuscript and it was terrific. I could hardly wait to introduce her work to the world of mystery readers. Knowing that I had even the smallest part in bringing intriguing stories to eager, discerning readers fueled my passion for the written word. I felt so fortunate to be able to live my dream and help others achieve theirs. Including my best friend, Makayla, who was overjoyed when I finally presented her with the cover artwork for The Barista Diaries. With the publication of her first novel and her upcoming nuptials, my friend was on cloud nine.

  As for Trey. Well, he was still working at Machiavelli’s. And I was still concerned about his career choice. But he was happy and as long as he continued to pay back the money he owed me, I could be happy, too. And as it turned out, Oscar had proven to be a good boss. He’d taken Trey under his wing and shown him the business. He’d assured me that Trey was blossoming into a great chef.

  Trey’s cooking skills weren’t the only thing blossoming. So was the relationship between Oscar and Mama. And I didn’t mind a bit. I’d never seen my mama so happy.

  “Well, here we are,” Bentley said. She parked in front of a large Craftsman-style home, located on a tree-lined avenue in one of Dunston’s older neighborhoods. The weather had finally started to turn, and if I squinted, I could almost make out tiny buds lying in wait along the tree branches, ready to burst with color as soon as spring gave the official nod.

  “It’s a lovely place, isn’t it?” I said.

  Bentley nodded.

  “Are you still okay with this?”

  She looked over her shoulder at Olive, then back at me, her eyes glistening with rare emotion. “Yes. I think it’s probably the best thing for everyone concerned.” By that, she meant Vicky. And thank goodness Bentley had come to that conclusion, because no one at Novel Idea could imagine not having Vicky on staff. “Besides,” Bentley continued. “Olive needs a lot of attention, maybe kids to play with her, and I … well, I live a pretty sterile life, if you haven’t noticed. Business, business, and more business. Not exactly a nurturing, loving environment.”

  I hesitated. Not sure what to say. Over the past week, I’d come to know a different facet of Bentley. A caring, sensitive side. In many ways, it was easier before when I only knew the cutthroat business side of her. I wasn’t quite sure how to relate to the new Bentley.

  “But,” she concluded. “This time with Olive has opened my eyes to something I believe is very important and given birth to a new and lucrative venture for our agency.”

  Aw … the old Bentley was back. “Oh, and what might that be?”

  Her eyes took on that old familiar gleam, the one that sparkled with dollar signs. “A benefit for dogs like Olive, rescue animals. We’ll combine it with a campaign for that author Franklin’s always talking about, the one who wrote Get a New Leash on Life. And what’s that new mystery series you just signed last summer?”

  “The Trendy Tails Mysteries?”

  “That’s the one. Catchy title, by the way.” She swept her hand through the air as she imagined all the possibilities. “We’ll call our event something like … like … Oh, I don’t know. I’m putting you in charge, so you can come up with the event name. But make it good. We’re going big. Think … uh, what’s that big dog show that’s always on television?”

  “The Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show?”

  “Exactly!” Bentley enthused. “But it doesn’t just have to be show dogs; we could incorporate something for working dogs, service dogs …”

  “Police dogs?” I threw out. Although I don’t know why I was encouraging her. This event was getting bigger by the second.

  “Now you’re thinking. And we’ll donate part of our proceeds to help benefit dogs like Olive.”

  I reached across and placed my hand over hers, giving it a quick squeeze. “Another brilliant idea,” I told her. “Come on, let’s go introduce Olive to her new home.”

  As soon as we stepped out of the car, the front door of the home flew open and several children came running out—their faces lit up with excitement. Right behind the children came Ms. Jensen, the new director of the Home for Women in Transition. She reached out and grasped Bentley’s hand. “Ms. Duke. We can’t thank you enough for your generosity. Your donation means so much to us.”

  My head snapped to Bentley. Donation? I shook my head in wonderment. My boss never ceased to surprise me.

  The woman continued, “And this …” She waved her hand to where the children were huddled around Olive, giggling and laughing with joy. “What a wonderful idea. I wish I had thought of it. A dog. Just the thing these children need to distract them from the troubles they’ve faced. A spot of joy in their lives.”

  Bentley nodded, her gaze fixed on the children as they took turns holding and nuzzling Olive. I moved closer and whispered in her ear. “Look at Olive. She seems happy.”

  Bentley nodded, a lone tear falling down her cheek. “Yes. It looks like Olive has found a happy ending for her story.”

  I nodded. Bentley’s comment reminded me that we all have our own stories, each and every one of us. And if we’re lucky, we have a host of supporting characters to s
ee us through the many plot twists in our lives. I was truly blessed to have a wonderful fiancé and many good friends to fill that role. And who could ask for a better sidekick than the Amazing Althea? With them by my side, I was ready to turn the page on a new chapter in my life. One that would include bringing more captivating stories to readers and promising careers to budding authors, as well as supporting my own loving family—Mama and Trey and my work family, too—no matter what story they’d choose to write for themselves. I looked down at the ring on my hand, its glimmer almost matching the lightness I felt in my heart. Best of all, I’d have Sean by my side to see me through each new scene and every new event.

  I could hardly wait to see what the rest of my story would bring.

  Turn the page for a preview of the newest book in Susan Furlong’s Georgia Peach mystery series

  REST IN PEACH

  Coming soon from Berkley Prime Crime

  Any woman who’s had the privilege of growing up below the Mason-Dixon Line understands the history and tradition of a debutante ball. My mother was no exception. From the time I could walk, she started grooming me for my debut to polite society. I can still remember her little bits of advice to this day—tips she called her Debutante Rules. Of course, some of them were a little offbeat; but they did encourage me to become the best woman I could be. You see, my mama’s advice taught me that being a debutante is less about the long white gloves, the pageantry, and the curtsey, and more about a code of conduct that develops inner beauty, a sense of neighborly charity, and unshakable strength in character that sees us women through the good times and the bad. Later, as I traveled the world, I came to learn these rules of hers transcended borders, cultures, and economic status. In essence my mama’s Debutante Rules taught me that no matter where you’re from or who your people are, becoming the best person you can be is key to a happy life.

  Debutante Rule #032: Like a magnolia tree, a debutante’s outward beauty reflects her strong inner roots … and that’s why we never leave the house without our makeup on.