Mystery Bundle (Saints Preserve Us, Pray For Us Sinners, Murder Most Trivial)

by Leigh Ellwood

  Huh? “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you planning to counteract fifty years of so-called satanic brainwashing at the hands of the Jesuits?” Ronnie drawled.

  “Like you said, Julia does what she wants,” Ethan said innocently. “If I happen to offer her other options over, say, dinner…” He approached the counter gladly and took the white box Loni now set before him, “it’s up to her to decide what she wants to do.”

  “Don’t give me that,” Ronnie scoffed. “I know what you’re trying to do. Why would you decide to renew a relationship with my grandmother so close to Lorena’s canonization? You’re planning to disrupt the whole thing, aren’t you?”

  “Ah, yes.” Ethan rocked on his heels. “I do recall Julia saying that event is coming up. Well, don’t you worry about that, Mrs. Lord. I have no intention of raining on that debauched parade. Of course, I always carry a couple of tracts of truth with me, and if I should happen to slip one into a pair of priestly hands…” With that thought hanging in the air, Ethan whistled as he walked out the door.

  Ronnie twisted in her seat to look at Loni. “What the hell just happened?”

  “I think Ethan’s going to try to convert the Pope,” Loni guessed.

  “Oh, man.” Ronnie dug into her purse for her cell phone. “It’s one thing if Nana wants to have dinner or go to the movies with the man, but no way is she bringing him to Miami. Gina’s going to freak when she hears this. Maybe if we’re lucky the Swiss Guard will detain his ass during our private audience.” She looked up at Loni. “Do they bring the Swiss Guard on papal visits?”

  Loni laughed. “Girl, you’re asking the wrong person. My church doesn’t have a pope.”

  Gina was not picking up her phone—more than likely she had joined the boys outside—so Ronnie dialed Arthur. She was one number away from initiating the connection when she stopped and canceled the call. The bell attached to the entrance rang as the front door opened, and in stepped Landon, who skidded to a halt just inside the deli as he spotted her. Following close behind were Rick and Dakota, who slammed into Landon’s back.

  “Hey!” Dakota said, irritated.

  Landon said nothing and did not move, and the two grudgingly pushed past him to a booth. After a few tense seconds, he finally removed his ball cap and loped over to Ronnie’s table. Ronnie inhaled and pressed her palms downward, feeling them slide from the sudden perspiration.

  Ronnie watched Loni approach the booth with an order pad. Dakota, crushed into the wall by Rick, his arm around her, leaned against the tabletop. “Landon!” she barked. “What do you want to drink?”

  Landon took the chair opposite Ronnie. “Coffee,” he called over his shoulder, his eyes still on Ronnie. In a lower voice, his smile soft, he said, “I left you a message.”

  “I got it,” Ronnie said. “I’ve just been out of sorts with Allayne’s death, and I haven’t had time—”

  “Yeah.” Landon lowered his head, and Ronnie felt her heart sink. He was expecting some kind of rejection, she knew. It’s not you, it’s me. We can still be friends. Get the hell away from me before I call the cops… and she could think of nothing to say to comfort him. Part of her still was not sure if she really wanted to reject his overtures.

  “Actually, I’m glad I ran into you today,” she said, mincing as Landon’s head jerked suddenly upward, a look of hope spreading his grin.

  “Er, I wanted to talk with you and your friends, that is.” Ronnie crooked her neck toward the booth. “It has to do with Allayne Witt, and you mentioned you and Rick worked there. I know Dakota used to work for her.”

  “Oh.” Landon sounded disappointed. “Uh, sure, I guess that would be okay,” he said, and scooted his chair back to stand. With a broad gesture he guided Ronnie to the vacant side of the booth.

  Dakota’s pretty auburn hair was now tipped with black ends to match her lipstick, fingernails, and eyeliner. In the skin-tight, black T-shirt she wore, she looked as if she were on her way to an audition to sing backup for Ozzy Osbourne. The young girl smirked as Ronnie slid into the booth, looking nothing like the demure maid who tried to serve her lemonade a few days earlier.

  She rested her cheek on her fist. “Never figured you to type to tadpole,” Dakota said with a sly glance at Landon, seated at Ronnie’s left.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ronnie asked. It didn’t sound flattering.

  “You know, when an older woman digs a young man. A much younger man.”

  Ronnie bristled at the remark and sat up straight. Did the girl think she looked that old? She folded her arms on the tabletop. “Never figured you for the nursing type,” she said.

  Dakota shrugged. “Four-point-oh grade point average, vice-president of the Chi Eta Phi nursing sorority at JU. And I’ll likely be tapped for Phi Delta Kappa in the fall.”

  “I heard you lost your job, I’m sorry,” Ronnie said, sincere. “Will you still be able to afford JU?”

  Dakota blew away her condolences, rolling her eyes. “I got it taken care of, don’t cry for me.”

  “Did you move back home?”

  Rick nudged Dakota, and she flashed him an amorous grin. “No, I got other arrangements.”

  Ronnie shifted uncomfortably. Landon’s thigh was pressing into hers, and there was nowhere else to go on the other side of the booth. She glanced at Rick, who watched her with amusement. She ignored Loni’s equally twisted smile as the deli owner set drinks on the table, including the mug she had left on her table, before giving them privacy.

  “I didn’t see you at the funeral, or the shivah,” Ronnie continued. “I’d have thought since you worked for Allayne you’d show.”

  “Her mother doesn’t want me in the house, she made that very clear to me,” Dakota said ruefully. “Besides, I knew Miss Witt well enough to know that wasn’t her scene. She’d have been insulted to have seen it, and I certainly didn’t want to insult her memory by taking part.”

  “Right.” Ronnie scraped the rubber sole of her sneaker against the pole supporting the table, remembering her role as official mourner, and wondered if the provision to not shave included her legs and underarms, which she did that morning.

  “You missed a lot of good food,” Rick offered, leaning into Dakota with an amorous look. “Didn’t she, Lan?”

  “She missed a lot of stuff.”

  Ronnie winced. There was no mistaking that veiled remark.

  “Anyway.” Ronnie cleared her throat. “Lorraine, er, Mrs. Witz, has asked me to investigate Allayne’s death—”

  “Why?” Landon frowned. “You’re not a cop.”

  “What’s to investigate?” Rick asked. “She was sick. Everybody knew that.”

  “I know, I’m aware of it, too,” Ronnie said, her eyes on Dakota. The girl’s smirk had vanished. “It’s possible that Allayne Witt’s death might not have been attributed to natural causes.” She hesitated to use the word murder.

  “So, you’re working for the cops then?” Landon asked. “Like some kind of profiler?”

  “She’s not working for the cops.” Dakota’s bravado had returned. “That loudmouth mother’s got you on a goose chase, lady.”

  “So you think Allayne’s death was just that. Her cancer?”

  Dakota’s mouth was a straight line. “I never said that.”

  Ronnie leaned forward and tried to look into Dakota’s eyes, finding it difficult to do so for all the girl’s erratic movements. She knew something, and looked conflicted about telling her. Perhaps having Landon and Rick around was preventing her from being more open with her.

  “Look,” Rick said, “we just came in here to get some breakfast before going over to the church for our community service. Dakota’s just along for the ride. She don’t have to tell you nothing—”

  Ronnie ignored him. “I saw you peering outside your door the night she died, Dakota. You looked upset.”

  “I was upset. I’m still upset,” Dakota nearly wailed. “I liked Miss Witt. She was a really nice lady, and I liked
working for her. She was really helpful giving me information about her cancer, ’cause she figured I’d need to know it if I’m going to become a nurse.”

  “I heard you called a friend that night.” Ronnie checked over her shoulder to see if Loni was listening.

  Tears formed in the girl’s eyes, and she nodded. “I had to talk to someone. I didn’t expect her to blab, I just wanted to talk.”

  “Don’t worry, you did nothing wrong, but I suspect there’s more you want to tell me. Dakota.” She inched her hand closer to Dakota’s, which was now nervously tapping her coffee spoon against the tabletop. “On the day Allayne died, she told me she was concerned that somebody might want to harm her. If that happened, and you are aware of something that could prove that, you should be open with me. If you’re worried about anonymity, I can assure you I won’t mention names to Lorraine.”

  “I wouldn’t mention anything to Lorraine,” Dakota said. “Landon says you’re a teacher.”

  “I am.” There was that thigh pressing against hers again. She shifted over another inch, knowing if she did so again that she would be on the other side of the wall.

  “For a teacher you don’t seem very smart,” Dakota challenged her, “otherwise you’d have figured it out quicker.”

  “Figured what out?”

  But Dakota just smiled and plucked a dollar from her pocket, tossing it next to her untouched mug. “I’m only going to say this once. Since I’m not working at Two Witt anymore, and since nobody’s been hired after me, there’s probably a lot of trash that hasn’t been taken out.” She nudged Rick. “Let’s go,” she told him. “I don’t feel so hungry anymore.”

  “Gladly.” Rick slid out of the booth and pulled Dakota against him, casting a disinterested glance at Ronnie. “Landon, you coming?”

  “Go on ahead. I’ll walk, it’s not that far.”

  “Suit yourself.” Rick snaked his arm around Dakota’s waist and the two sashayed out the door, sharing a clandestine joke between them.

  “Cute couple,” Ronnie murmured, taking a sip from her mug.

  Landon stared into his coffee, his hands curled around the mug, his knee nervously bouncing against her leg. “I’m sorry about that. Dakota’s usually really nice. She’s just upset about losing her job and Miss Witt dying.”

  “A lot of people are upset about that, Landon, which is why I thought she’d be more helpful.”

  “Do you really think somebody killed her?”

  “I don’t know what to think, Landon,” Ronnie sighed. The enticing scent of his aftershave was not helping matters. “I’m just trying to make sense of what Dakota just said, about there being a lot of trash around Two Witt. I mean, was she speaking figuratively?”

  Landon shook his head. “Dakota’s pretty much a straight shooter. She says what’s on her mind.”

  “That explains the tadpole remark,” Ronnie muttered, somewhat relieved to see Landon did not react. What concerned her more was what Dakota had not said.

  “Landon, from what you remember working at Two Witt,” Ronnie began, turning to face the boy. Please don’t look at me with those eyes. “Do you, uh, do you remember seeing anything or anyone unusual?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, was there something out of place? Do you recall Miss Witt looking uncomfortable with anybody?”

  Landon shrugged. “What little I saw of her, she was always uncomfortable. I thought it was because she was sick. But one time that blond guy...”

  “Danny Cushing, her agent?”

  Landon snapped his fingers. “Yeah, him. One day Rick and I were getting some sodas after working out in the yard, and Miss Witt comes in the kitchen with her agent riding her ass. He was ragging her about dragging her feet with contract negotiations. I wasn’t trying to listen, but it was hard to do with them right there. Finally the guy kicked us out and they went back to screaming at each other.”

  “Really.” That appeared to contradict what Danny had told her about Allayne’s renewal with Southwest Memorial. Had Allayne been coerced into signing the contract, perhaps the one with the miniseries, too? Perhaps she thought of taking some time off to recover, and Danny badgered her into signing, insisting a leave might harm her career. Certainly a reason to be angry, but not a reason to kill.

  “Yeah, and one other thing,” Landon said. “I’m in the laundry room cleaning up, and I overhear Mr. Cushing on his cell phone. Didn’t know who he was talking to, but he said something about coming into some money soon, and not to worry. I figured he got Miss Witt to sign that contract, and that he’d get his share, but it might have meant something else.”

  “Indeed, it might.” Danny could have been speaking of an inheritance, an inheritance of residual payments.

  She turned away from him, idly picking at the small, laminated dessert menu wedged in its metal clasp holder. Landon’s breathing was slow and even, tickling her left ear.

  “Do you think he might have done something?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know if I’m just letting my imagination run away with me. Lorraine’s fears have been drilled into my head so much that I’m starting to believe them. I’m wondering if I’ve been feeling guilty for not being a better friend to Allayne, that I feel compelled to see this through to alleviate my guilt.”

  She laughed bitterly to herself, then rewarded Landon with a shy smile. “But I thank you for your input, Landon. You’ve helped me see Two Witt from a different, unbiased perspective.”

  “You’re welcome.” Landon grinned wide and deftly stretched an arm across the back of the booth. Ronnie instinctively leaned away from the back of the bench seat.

  “So,” he said, “is that information worth something?”

  “I’ll pay for your coffee.”

  “That wasn’t what I had in mind.” Landon waggled his eyebrows.

  “I’ll buy you a cinnamon roll, too.”

  “Ronnie,” Landon whined.

  “Mrs. Lord,” Ronnie whined back.

  “Ronnie.”

  “Landon.” Ronnie’s voice was sharp. “I’m at least fifteen years older than you.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “We probably don’t have anything in common. What would we talk about on a date?”

  “Well,” Landon frowned, “you like the Jags, right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “That’s one thing. I’m sure we’d find others if you’d give it a chance.”

  “Yeah.” Ronnie’s shoulders sagged, and she was glad the deli was deserted. Even Loni was conspicuously absent, and Ronnie hoped she was not huddled in a corner of the kitchen, transcribing their conversation over the phone.

  “Haven’t you considered looking for somebody closer to your age?” she suggested. “You know, I hear Dakota has this friend Chloe who—”

  “Looks like Carrot Top. No way.” Landon exaggerated a shiver. “It’s because of what me and Lorne did, isn’t it? You still can’t get past that, after all I’m doing at the church, and keeping up with my probation meetings. I thought I’d paid my dues.”

  Landon’s sudden anger prickled at Ronnie, and she stiffened. She did not feel threatened, but almost guilty, as if trying him a second time.

  “What you did,” she said slowly, “is done. I told you that once before. As for whether or not it’s an issue with regards to your feelings for me...” She paused. Was it an issue? Was there an issue, at all? Ronnie pressed her hands together so Landon could not see that she had suddenly started trembling.

  “Look, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything. I know you’re thinking your family will freak out, but all I’m asking for is one date. I’ll pick you up, we’ll go out to eat, and I’ll take you home. Why does that sound like such an ordeal?”

  “It doesn’t,” Ronnie conceded. “It doesn’t sound painful at all. In fact, it sounds rather nice. I haven’t been out on a date in a while.”

  Landon held up his hands. “Neither have
I. Let’s end our dry spells together. What do you say?”

  Ronnie said nothing, not even when Landon prodded her a second time. Finally he followed her gaze to the door to see Lew in his sheriff’s uniform, arms folded, staring back at them with a saddened expression. She had not heard the bell on his entrance.

  “I’ll talk to you later,” Ronnie whispered, and Landon nodded.

  “That’s not a ‘no’, and I’ll take what I can get. Later.” Landon nodded slightly to Lew as he brushed past him to the exit. Lew did not return the acknowledgement, but kept his eyes fixed on Ronnie, who bent her head back to her mug.