by Nic Saint
“Just make sure you don’t,” I said.
She emitted a jolly laugh and gave me a cheeky pat on the cheek. “Oh, you naughty girl!”
“Goodbye, Mrs. Harlot,” Fee said as the old lady tottered off. She then turned to me. “Why aren’t you at work?”
“Because my uncle gave me a different kind of assignment today,” I said, and explained to her about the recent demise of Uncle Charlie’s favorite Elvis-impersonating colleague.
Fee rearranged her face in the appropriate look of horror and surprise. “Farmer Pender? But I know him.”
“We all knew Farmer Pender, hon. But did we really know him?”
“What do you mean?”
I leaned closer, speaking a little louder to drown out the pleasant hubbub of the customers. “Did you know he was an Elvis impersonator?”
Fee brought a hand to her cherubic face, her red curls performing a little jig. “You don’t say!”
“Well, I do say. And from what I could gather, he wasn’t very good at it, either.”
“Just like your uncle.”
“Just like my uncle.”
A resolute look stole over my best friend’s face. “We have to call the girls.”
“Can you get away for half an hour?”
She grimaced. “I really can’t—unless…” She disappeared for a moment into the kitchen, and I could hear her call out for her mother. Moments later she returned with Bianca, who’s the spitting image of her daughter, only sporting blue hair instead of red.
“Hello, Alice,” said Bianca, a worried expression on her face. “What’s this I hear about Banning Pender?”
“He’s been murdered. Or at least that’s what Uncle Charlie just told me.”
“Oh, my dear,” Bianca murmured, clearly distraught. “What’s happening to this town? It’s just murder after murder after murder. It didn’t use to be like this.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” I said. “Which is why we have to find out what happened.”
“Of course,” she said absently, casting a weary eye across the room, as if fully expecting Banning Pender’s killer suddenly to spring out from behind the counter.
“Can you fill in for me, Mom?” asked Fee.
“Of course,” she repeated, then turned to her daughter. “But please be careful, honey. I don’t like all this sleuthing you and Alice are doing. What happens if the killer comes after you next?”
“He won’t,” Fee assured her mother.
“But how can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m not an Elvis impersonator,” Fee said with admirable logic.
Bianca frowned. “Do you think we’re dealing with a serial Elvis impersonator killer?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” said Fee, who didn’t like her mother’s fussiness.
“It’s too soon to tell,” I said quickly. “First we need to find out what’s going on, exactly.”
“Yes, Mom,” said Fee. “We’re not psychic, no matter what you might think.”
“I never said you were psychic. I just don’t like you getting involved in all this murder business, that’s all. Maybe you should let the police handle things this time? They have a wonderful new detective, who’s most capable. His name is Rock Walker and he’s from Syracuse.”
“I know, Mom,” said Fee, rolling her eyes in annoyance. “Alice and Rock are practically dating, remember?”
“I am not dating Rock Walker,” I said indignantly.
Bianca gave me a puzzled frown. “Oh, that’s right. I heard that you and Detective Walker had been caught making out in his squad car. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
“Believe it,” said Fee. “It’s true.”
“It’s not!” I insisted.
Fee raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “So you weren’t kissing Rock in his car?”
“No. He was kissing me,” I corrected her. “And it wasn’t even a real kiss. More like a friendly peck on the lips. The kind a friend would give… another friend,” I concluded lamely.
“And what about the kiss he gave you when you caught Gemma Weston’s killer?”
I hesitated. I’d forgotten the entire neighborhood watch had seen that kiss. “He was just happy that I was all right, that’s all.”
“He was happy that I was all right, and he didn’t kiss me,” said Fee.
“Well, that’s different. He knows you have a boyfriend.”
“Oh, what does it matter?” asked Bianca. She gave me a motherly smile. “I’m just glad you found love again, honey. It’s no good moping around for that movie star like you were doing lately. A beautiful young woman like yourself can do so much better.”
She was referring to the man I’d briefly been engaged to, who was a genuine Hollywood movie star. For some reason, I hadn’t given Reece a lot of thought lately. I wondered why that was, exactly. Then I caught Fee’s smirk and I gave her a slap. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that.”
“Like what?” she asked innocently.
“As if I’m about to announce my engagement. We kissed twice, and that’s as far as this whole thing will ever go. I’m sure Rock has better things to do than chase little old me.”
“Is it true that he moved into your old room, honey?” asked Bianca.
I darted an annoyed look at Fee. “Yes, it’s true,” I admitted. “But only temporarily, until he finds a place to live.”
“Well, I think it’s very decent of Chief Whitehouse to offer him a room,” said Bianca. “And now that you and Detective Walker are a thing, it’s all ever so romantic.”
“We’re not a thing,” I insisted. “We kissed. Twice. That doesn’t constitute a thing.”
“Well, it certainly does to me, honey, though I have to admit I’m old-fashioned, of course. In my day, when a boy kissed a girl—twice, no less—it certainly meant he was serious about her. Although even in my time there was a certain type of girl who didn’t mind being kissed by a boy—and had no intention of committing herself.” She gave me a curious look. “I never took you for that kind of girl, though, Alice.”
“Oh, but I’m not,” I was quick to assure her. “I mean, at least I don’t think so.”
“You know the kind of girl I mean, Felicity,” said Bianca.
“Sure. Like Jackie Bouchard.”
Bianca pursed her lips disdainfully. “Well, I wasn’t going to name names, but now that you brought her up, yes, Jackie is exactly the type of woman who doesn’t mind being kissed and has no intention of taking things further. She was like that even before she got married to Bud.”
I was reminded of Uncle Charlie’s request to try and improve his reputation. Now seemed like a good opportunity. “Oh, and by the way, my uncle wants you to know that he’s not into BDSM,” I said. “Like, at all.” It had been my intention to casually slip this into the conversation, but judging from Bianca’s expression of shock, I hadn’t succeeded.
“Well,” she said, clutching at her chest. “I’m sure that’s none of my business, Alice.”
“Until you make it your business, right?” asked Fee with a gleeful wink at me.
Bianca raised her chin. “What people do in the privacy of their own bedroom is of no interest to me. Even though it strikes me as ironic that a funeral director would purposely be putting himself in harm’s way like that. With a married woman, no less.”
“I’m sure Charlie is very careful,” said Felicity.
“I certainly hope so for his sake,” said Bianca. “If Bud ever finds out…”
“Uncle Charlie also asked you to spread the word,” I said.
Bianca looked at me primly. “Spread the word?”
“About his not being involved with BDSM? He wants to improve his reputation.”
“Well, I never,” Bianca huffed. “What does he think I am? His PR agent? If he wants to improve his reputation perhaps he should stop fooling around with a married woman indulging in all of these perversions.”
“It’s not exactly a perversion, Mom,” said Fee. “
S&M is actually very popular.”
“Well, it’s certainly not popular with anyone I know,” said Bianca prissily.
Fee gave her a grin. “You’d be surprised, Mom.”
And leaving the shocked woman to man the counter, we both left the store.
Chapter 3
“Do you really think it’s such a good idea to say those things to your mother?” I asked once we were inside the Bell’s Bakery van.
Fee yanked down the seatbelt and clipped it into place. “You know? Normally I never would, but she’s been giving me such a hard time lately, that I just couldn’t resist.”
“A hard time? What for?”
“Remember how we were going to organize a double wedding, you and I?”
I sank a little lower in my seat. “Uh-huh.”
“In a tropical location, with plenty of guests? The wedding of the century?”
“I remember,” I said a little frostily. “You don’t have to remind me.”
She glanced over. “I’m sorry, honey. I know you don’t like to be reminded. It’s just that… Mom keeps harping on and on about it—demanding Rick and I finally set a date and giving me all kinds of not-so-subtle hints that she and Dad are ready to become grandparents.”
“Oh, my God.”
“She insists that if I don’t start a family soon, it will be too late, and she and Dad will be too old to be proper grandparents.”
“That’s ridiculous!”
“Well, it’s how she feels. I told her Rick and I will get married when we’re good and ready but she doesn’t seem to want to accept that. So she keeps pressuring me and pressuring me until I’m just about ready to explode.”
I nodded. “I get it.”
She gave me a rueful look. “I didn’t want to tell you, since you’ve got your own thing going on with Rock, but she’s really starting to get on my nerves.”
When I was still engaged to Reece Hudson, arguably one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, he’d promised me we’d get married on Necker Island, Richard Branson’s private island in the Caribbean. We’d arrive by helicopter, and we’d marry on the pristine white beach, facing the clear azure waters of the Caribbean Sea, the sun our backdrop. We’d make it a double wedding, with Fee and Rick taking their vows alongside Reece and me.
But then Reece had gone and fallen for one of his co-stars and I hadn’t heard from him since. I guess that’s one of the risks of dating a Hollywood hunk.
“I’m sure that if you tell her to back off, she’ll understand,” I said.
“I told her about a dozen times, but she insists that time is running out.”
“Maybe she’s right,” I said as I stared before me through the windshield.
She turned to me sharply. “What do you mean?”
I raised a helpless hand. “We’re all of us not getting any younger, Fee. Maybe you should start a family now, before your folks move to Florida and you never see them again.”
She thought about this for a moment. “I don’t think they’ll go through with that. I mean, Dad’s been talking about retiring for years now, and he’s not giving any signs that he will.”
“Oh, I’m sure he will,” I said. “He’s even picked out his spot already.”
She gave me a look of incredulity. “He has?”
“Sure. He’s got the brochures and everything. He showed them to me last week. Some place called…” I searched my memory. “Oh, that’s right. Sunnyvale something or other.”
“Sunnyvale,” she repeated slowly, looking slightly startled. “I had no idea.”
“He also told me not to tell you, which is why I’m telling you, I guess.”
“But why would he tell you not to tell me?”
“He said you’d freak out. And so would your mom. He also told me that if things don’t get moving in the right direction, he’s considering eloping.”
“Eloping!”
“Yup. Said he’s done pretty much all the baking he can stand in one lifetime, and now it’s time for the young ‘uns to take over and let him enjoy his golden years in peace.”
She shook her head. “So Mom is right. If I don’t get married right now and pop out half a dozen kids they’ll grow up without grandparents.”
I shrugged. “You can’t let them pressure you into getting married before you feel like it, hon.” I gave her a keen look. “Though from what I can tell Rick is a keeper, huh?”
She nodded slowly. “He is. At least I think he’s the one.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“Well, how can I be sure? I mean, look at you. You were pretty sure about Reece. And now he’s gone. What if Rick suddenly decides to up and leave? What if he interviews some gorgeous female on one of his assignments and falls for her? I’m just a baker, honey. I can’t compete with the supermodels and the superstars of this world.”
I was going to say no supermodel or superstar would ever fall for Rick, but decided not to. “Ricky loves you, honey,” I said. “He’s not going to fall for some model.”
She glanced over at me. “Reece did.”
I stiffened. “Rick isn’t Reece. Besides, at some point you just have to take a leap of faith. How can you ever know anything? You just do what you think is best and leave it at that.”
“Spoken like a true philosopher,” said Fee with a small smile.
“And if Rick ever does leave you for a supermodel, I’ll personally break every bone in his body.”
She laughed. “I’ll be sure to tell him. He’ll be impressed.”
We’d arrived at a small country lane that forked off the main road and Fee directed the old bakery van down the rutted road. It bumped and bounced along for a while, and I saw that a bunch of police cars stood parked at the end of the short lane.
“Looks like Rock is already here,” said Fee.
Something tightened in my belly. I hadn’t seen Rock in a while. He hadn’t called and neither had I. In spite of what Bianca or Fee might think, ours wasn’t exactly that kind of relationship. We’d kissed twice, but nothing had actually happened. The first kiss was just a friendly peck, and the second… Well, the second one had packed a lot more heat, but that was just because Rock had been so happy to see me alive.
Fee glanced at me. “You’re awfully quiet.”
I swallowed a little uncomfortably. “It’s not every day that a murder takes place in Happy Bays.”
“Are you sure it’s got nothing to do with your boyfriend?”
“How many times do I have to tell you this? He’s not my boyfriend.”
“But you told me—”
“Forget what I told you. Nothing happened between us, and probably nothing ever will.”
“But that kiss.”
“Like I said, he was just happy to see me alive. He’s a cop. He worries about… people.”
She smiled. “He doesn’t worry about me.”
“Nothing happened,” I insisted stubbornly when I recognized Rock’s squad car. It was a beat-up old Crown Viv, with the sticker ‘I’m not wearing pants’ prominently displayed on the rear bumper. He’d already told me he wasn’t responsible for the sticker, but it still brought a nice and very vivid image to my mind each time I saw it.
Fee parked the van behind Rock’s car, and we both got out. The lane widened into a patch of meadow, a sign haphazardly stuck in the ground announcing we’d arrived at the Pender Duck Farm. Beyond the meadow, which mainly served as a parking lot, I could see the low-slung building where the ducks were kept, with an outside area where they could prance around when the mood struck them.
Banning Pender didn’t believe in keeping his birds cooped up in tiny cages. He liked to see them strut their stuff and have some space to breathe, which was a rarity in duck farming circles, or so I’d been told.
“Oh, God,” said Fee. “Is that what I think it is?”
I followed her gaze, and noticed a figure lying on the floor, surrounded by cops. An involuntary shiver ran through me. “Yep, I’m afraid that�
�s Banning Pender.”
“I’m not sure I want to see this,” Fee murmured as we walked up.
“We’re the neighborhood watch, honey,” I said. “We need to see this. And then do something about it.”
“Easy for you to say. You see dead bodies every day.”
“It’s never easy. Especially when they’ve been the victim of a violent crime.”
“How—” She gulped. “How did your uncle say he died exactly?”
“Shot to death.”
“Oh, God,” she mumbled, making the sign of the cross. “I hope it wasn’t the face.”
As we approached the small cluster of cops hovering nearby, one officer broke loose from the pack and ambled up to meet us. I recognized him as Virgil Scattering, an old friend and, not coincidentally, son of neighborhood watch member Marjorie Scattering.
“The watch is here, huh?” he asked with a slight grin on his pimpled face.
Virgil, no matter what his mother Marjorie says, is not a handsome man. He’s tall and scrawny, with a prominent chin, bad complexion, and an even more prominent Adam’s apple, which for some reason acts as the perfect barometer of his mood. Right now, it was cavorting playfully, like a puppy happy to meet its master.
“Yup, the watch is here,” I said.
“What do you have for us, Virgil?” Fee asked, steeling herself.
He glanced over at the dead body. “Well, we’ve got ourselves a murder, ladies.”
“And do we have ourselves a killer?” I asked hopefully.
“Nope,” said Virgil. “At least nobody came forward yet.”
“No clue what happened?”
“Not a one,” Virgil confessed.
“Are you in charge of the investigation?” asked Fee.
He shook his head sadly. “Chief Whitehouse decided that since Rock did such a great job on the Gemma Weston homicide, he’s having him run point on this one as well.” He heaved a deep sigh. “Between Rock and that other new cop, I’m not getting up to bat as often as I used to.”
“What other new cop?” I asked, curious.
“Logan Munroe. Came over from New Hampshire. Just solved the murder of that Mariana Piney woman.”