A Geek Girl's Guide to Justice (The Geek Girl Mysteries)

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Stella was surrounded by a horde of behemoth trucks and psychedelic love buses in the employee area of the lot. The larger, knobby-wheeled, oversized barbarians dwarfed my poor Mini Cooper, but she was my shiny pink princess, the belle of their ball. I took my final step and tossed one hand overhead. “Huzzah!”

  “Huzzah!” The soft chorus of those in earshot echoed back.

  I beeped her doors unlocked and tossed my handbag in first. I stuffed the bulk of my skirts in next and wedged my body in after, adjusting the mounds of material between my body and the wheel. Cozy.

  I reached for the open door and spotted a sad little mouse in the grass below me. My heart broke for the poor little guy, alone in the field. He didn’t move. I waved my hand at him. Nothing. “Ugh!” I slammed the door and braced my hands on the wheel. Had I run him over on my way in? I shook off the cold sweat brewing on my neck. Time to go.

  I bounced Stella through the lot and onto asphalt with a sigh of relief. She was certain to get her little tires stuck in the mud one day, but blessedly, that day wasn’t today. Traffic was light on the freeway. I skipped my usual exit and veered south to Sugar Creek, a little town in nearby Amish Country. If anyone asked where I went after the Faire, I would tell them I had a hankering for homemade fudge and the baby Swiss cheese that melted on my tongue. In reality, I wanted to visit Regency Antiques, a company initially financed by Dante and at the top of Angelina’s suspect list. She thought all Dante’s clients wanted him dead. Adele believed an antique shop might carry daggers like the murder weapon. If the shop owner wasn’t the killer, he or she might still be an expert who could tell me more. Specifically, the type of person who’d have a dagger in their possession for a crime of passion. Either way was worth the trip.

  Noise-blocking walls and lines of houses faded into cornfields and red barns with the occasional background John Deere. I exited the highway and took a two-lane road around sweeping curves and through rolling hills and valleys. Shortly, the world became flat and green. Cows speckled the horizon and crows lined pasture fences, craning their shiny black heads at each passing car. Twilight had arrived in its full glory, streaking a lavender sky with the fiery bands of a setting sun.

  I chose a parking spot along the curb, close enough to the Amish buggy parking that I could enjoy the beauty of the horses, and far enough away that I wasn’t likely to step in any of their road garnish.

  I paid the meter and hoped Regency Antiques wasn’t closed. Some of the local shops had a tendency to lock up before dinner and call it a night. The warm air was as inviting as the scenery. Scents of hot kettle corn and cinnamon-toasted almonds wafted over me as I passed a vendor. I stared long and hard, begging my feet to stop, while willing them to go. If the antique store was still open, it probably wouldn’t be for long and I didn’t want to make the trip south again tomorrow. Kettle corn had to wait.

  A group of teen girls in muted green and blue dresses covered their mouths and giggled as I passed. A little boy in black overalls and a light blue dress shirt gawked openly. I nodded, dipped a quick curtsy and stayed my course. It would be impossible to keep a low profile in Amish Country dressed as Queen of Camelot.

  The sensation of being watched crept over me, and I brushed my palms over goose-pimpled skin.

  Regency Antiques was on the next block and all the lights were on inside. I grabbed the doorknob and checked the hours. Thirty minutes until closing. Jackpot.

  A cowbell bonged overhead as I let myself inside. Voices carried from the backroom of an empty store. The open area was set up in multiple large displays, each representing a different room in a home. Old artwork lined the walls. White noise and jazz filtered softly from an old turntable near a vintage armchair and floor lamp. Aprons made of slightly yellowed material hung on a coatrack by the gold-speckled kitchen table. A Victorian ensemble and rug anchored the bedroom scene.

  I dragged my finger over the dusty spines of novels on an overflowing bookshelf and stopped short at the corner. Tucked behind the desk holding a cash register and black telephone was a line of weapons. Swords and knives with detailed hilts and ornately carved blades lay on a mat of plastic. The wall above held only hooks and anchors, where I assumed the blades had once hung. I took a step back. Had I found the killer? Was he making a break for it with the rest of his collection? How would he feel to find me here?

  “I have to check on my customers,” a whiny voice lifted from the back. “Please. I know I heard the bell.”

  Panic shot up from my feet to my head like a lightning strike. Was I in danger? There was only one way to find out, and I preferred not to. I ducked around a room divider embroidered with an array of brightly colored threads and waited. The faint scent of old books and dry wood reminded me of my parents’ attic where Bree and I played hide-and-seek. I squeezed my hands in prayer.

  Soft footfalls carried over the floorboards. “I’m afraid it’s time for you to lock up for good,” a familiar voice said. Relief swept over my muscles. I would live! Unless the man with that familiar voice killed me.

  I peered through the wooden slats of the divider.

  Dan Archer removed handcuffs from his belt and latched them on the wrists of a man twenty years his senior and thirty pounds his junior. That was the killer? I was nearly as big as that guy.

  “I didn’t do it,” the graying man whined. Desperation crumpled his gentle face into a heap of anguish.

  Dan nudged him forward. “Evidence says you did, Mr. Plotz. Your dagger. Your prints.” Dan forced the door open with a hip and escorted Mr. Plotz outside.

  The man cried. Outright bawled.

  My heart broke.

  Dan returned a moment later and headed to the backroom. “You get everything you need?”

  “Yeah.” Jake’s voice raised the hair on my arms. That little liar said he was going to Parma. Parma was in the complete opposite direction from Sugar Creek.

  “Lock up. I’ll meet you at the station.”

  I hefted my skirts and made a break for it. My toe caught on the corner of the room divider and the structure wobbled. I grabbed it with one hand and my dress took out a knickknack on the nearby shelf. “Crap!” I whispered, compelled to right the knickknack but eager to flee. I pulled in a shallow breath and resolved to execute poor manners, leave the trinket on the floor and save myself a word-lashing from the Archer brothers.

  I zoomed through the front door like the Flash, sending Plotz’s cowbell into a frenzy. I darted down the quaint brick street toward Stella. Mr. Plotz blinked long and slow as I passed the car where he was locked in the backseat. With any luck, he thought the stress had brought on a hallucination and wouldn’t tell the Archers he saw the Queen of Camelot escaping his store in a blast of crazy.

  Jake’s voice called out nearby. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  Yikes! I pulled my gown four inches off the ground and pumped my knees, putting distance between myself and that voice. I’d never make it to Stella before he saw me in my big green velvet gown and knickers. I ducked into the next shop door I saw and pressed my back to the interior wall. I closed my eyes to steady my pulse and prayed for invisibility.

  Dry scents of grain and alfalfa clogged my throat and generated a hearty sneeze. Two dozen Amish men stared, mouths agape. I pressed both palms to my massive amount of exposed cleavage, a commonality at the Renaissance Faire but not at an Amish feed and grain store. “Sorry.” I whispered. “I won’t be long. I just needed...” Another sneeze rocked my body and tilted me forward at the waist. “I’m allergic to everything in here. Not you.” I forced a smile. “Hay. Mostly hay.”

  A young man removed his straw hat. “Gesundheit.” No sooner had he spoken than a gray-bearded man dragged him behind his back. To safety, I supposed. From the crazy woman in need of proper clothing and her prescription antihistamine.

  The car Dan had locked Mr. Plotz into
rolled past the window with Dan at the wheel, Plotz in the back, and no Jake.

  I sneezed again, this time so deeply I could’ve cracked a rib. My skin was on fire and my vision was weird. I forced my body out the door. Into the fresh air. Whatever they kept in the feed store was from the devil. I’d take my chances with Jake, wherever he was.

  Crisp, clean air bathed my itchy skin. Praise the Lord.

  “Shopping?” Jake peeled himself off the wall of the grain and feed store.

  I sucked air and squealed, fully prepared to die and be done with it. “Yes.”

  “For bulk grains?”

  “Yeah.” I ran the generous material of one fancy cuff under my nose, which had begun to run. “I think I need a hospital.”

  Jake placed a palm against my back and guided me to a bench. “If I leave you here and go find a drugstore, will you stay or try to drive home like that?”

  “Stay.” My voice was off. “I think ma tong is welling.”

  He cursed. “Do you really need a hospital?”

  “I have a pill in ma caw.” I handed over the keys.

  “Come on. I’ll drive.” He hefted me onto my feet by one elbow and walked me to Stella’s side door.

  I fell inside and ransacked the console for my prescription.

  Jake sat sideways, feet on the street, and slid my chair all the way into the backseat before pulling his boots inside. His knees framed the wheel. “This car is ridiculous.”

  “You aw.”

  He snorted. “Are you going to be okay? Do you need a doctor or can I take you home?”

  “Home.” I popped the pills and chased them with a bottle of water I kept on hand. “What about you twuck?”

  “I rode here with Dan in the state car. I told him I’d catch up with him later.”

  I rolled my head against the headrest. He’d seen me. I was the opposite of stealth. I flipped the visor down and grimaced. A clear jelly-like substance filled my eyes. My chest and cheeks were splotched pink and white. No wonder those men were staring. I rolled the cool water bottle over my inflamed skin. “I’m allergic to hay, alfalfa and apparently something else that was in that store because the swollen tongue is new.”

  “How do you feel?” He glanced my way before taking the ramp back to the highway.

  “Okay. Better. I usually take a pill before I go somewhere I know I’ll have trouble. Give me ten to twenty minutes.”

  The ride was silent until I realized I’d fallen asleep. “Shoot.” I shot upright and the seat belt yanked me back. “Jeez. Am I drooling?” I wiped the corners of my mouth and eyes.

  “Those pills really put you out.”

  “Yeah. Downside.”

  He parked outside my condo building and shut the engine down. “Do you need help getting upstairs?”

  “Yes.” Not at all. “Please.”

  Always the gentleman, Jake escorted me to my apartment and made a call for Dan to pick him up.

  I changed into street clothes, which meant something entirely different to me than my sister, and returned to the living room where I’d left Jake. “Thanks for saving my life today.”

  “Don’t mention it.” He reclined on my couch, one arm over the backrest, one foot over the opposite knee.

  “Can I get you some iced tea or lemonade?”

  “Either.” He shoved onto his feet. “Here. You sit. I’ll pour.”

  I didn’t have the energy to argue. I fell into the spot he’d vacated. “I don’t think Mr. Plotz killed Dante. I think the only thing that man’s guilty of is having an unfortunate name.”

  “Well, the evidence says you’re wrong.” Jake ferried two cups to the coffee table in front of my couch. “His prints were on the dagger and the piece is from his store.”

  I recalled the wall pegs and weapons on the ground. “There was one extra set of hangers on the wall than blades on the floor.”

  “Exactly. We found the last one in the lake.”

  “You were inventorying his collection. When I saw the plastic on the floor behind the desk, I thought he might be trying to run. I still don’t think it was Plotz.” I sipped my tea and sighed, thankful to breathe properly again and impressed Jake knew I preferred sweet tea over lemonade. “That guy’s a marshmallow. Do you really think he has the amount of venom it takes to stab a man and drown him? What’s his motive?”

  Jake swigged and stared.

  I waited.

  Silence.

  I set my glass aside. “Oh, I see. You’re not talking to me about this?”

  “Nope.”

  My mind raced with a complete inability to deal with that answer. “You have to talk to me or my head will explode.”

  “All you need to know is that Dan and I have this investigation covered and you don’t need to worry about it.”

  Heat returned to my cheeks for all new reasons. “Jake. Seriously. Talk.”

  He set his glass down beside mine and swiveled to face me on the couch. He cocked one knee on the cushion between us. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

  A feeling of doom settled over me, and I got the distinct impression I was in trouble.

  “Do you know Angelina Weiss?” he asked.

  Uh-oh. I worked the hem of my worn Mathletes jersey between my fingertips.

  “Think before you answer,” he warned. “Lying only makes things worse.”

  I pressed my lips into a tight line.

  He clenched his jaw. “Tall. Scientist. The victim’s ex-wife. Any of that ringing a bell?”

  I wiggled my head noncommittally.

  “Really? No comment? I only ask because I went to see her and she said a weird little woman with too much hair and adorable kitten heels came to see her.”

  “She liked my heels?”

  He closed his eyes for a long beat before reopening them. “You’re killing me, Connors. I can’t believe you’re doing this again. You’re interfering in another police investigation.”

  “I’m not interfering.”

  He pressed a finger to his temple. “I pulled the security video from her floor because I needed to see it with my own eyes.”

  “I didn’t stay long,” I hedged. “I only asked a few questions, and I never said I was a cop. She assumed that. I didn’t realize her mistake until the end.”

  “And then you explained it to her? That you weren’t there in an official capacity?”

  I adjusted my glasses. “I thought her misunderstanding was a gray area.”

  “Do you know what she said when I got there? She told me a female detective had already asked all my questions. She became obscene when I insisted that wasn’t possible and made her answer again.”

  A laugh bubbled out of me.

  “See—” his lips twitched, but the smile failed “—you think it’s funny because you weren’t sworn at in Mandarin for ten minutes and called a bunch of things that weren’t your name.”

  I covered my mouth. “I’m so sorry. I planned to tell you.”

  “Sure.”

  “I figured it would come up when we sat down to talk about the case.”

  His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before narrowing to slits. “We aren’t going to talk about the case, Mia. You’re not a cop. When you start meddling, the department has a word for it, obstruction. It’s against the law. You know that. Yet we keep having this conversation.”

  “We haven’t had this conversation for a long time,” I countered.

  A vein in his temple pulsed out a warning tempo. “I’ve been gone for two months. We had this conversation before I left. Right after you found your second dead body. Any of that sound familiar?”

  I bristled. “I can’t help it these things keep happening. My therapist says so.”

  His phone buzzed an
d he pulled it from his pocket for a look. “Dan’s downstairs.” He dragged his gaze over me. “We can talk about this later. Are you okay if I go? No more trouble breathing?”

  “All better. Tired but better.” I walked him to the elevator.

  “Good. Stay in. Sleep.”

  I wasn’t great at reading between the lines, but I was confident the script between those read: Stay out of my investigation or I will handcuff you in a not fun way.

  We did a weird hug and parted ways. An awkward ending to an unromantic night.

  “Hey, one more thing,” I called as he stepped into the elevator. “Did you check her alibi?”

  “Angelina was in her office all night.”

  Bummer. “Okay, see you tomorrow!” I called through the closing silver doors.

  Hopefully dinner at my folks’ tomorrow would go better.

  Chapter Eight

  I overslept the next morning, thanks to my unyielding schedule and that dose of antihistamine, so I skipped breakfast and accidentally worked all day on REIGN. My intention to add a hidden spring, accessible only to knights with sufficient valor, kept unfolding. A spring wasn’t enough. If I wanted to reward the honorable, dedicated players with bonuses and health, a spring was too small scale. I needed a hidden realm. The trial-and-error process pulled me under like glorious quicksand. I emerged hours later to the sound of my phone alarm. The screen flashed: Leave now or be late.

  Jake had left one text: running late. meet you there

  I grabbed a pack of strawberry Pop-Tarts to quiet my roaring tummy and headed out the door. I took the longest route to the guard gate, admiring Ohio Wiring’s work around the community. Wireless routers were tucked discreetly into leafy oaks throughout the neighborhood. I’d received a confirmation call that the job was done. The crew didn’t run into any issues and the new community Wi-Fi was up and running.

  A little thrill zipped through me. Within an hour of sending an official announcement to residents this morning, I had a dozen praising responses. People logged on to the new network easily and took full advantage as they tooled around outdoors, enjoying the weather. Wi-Fi on the golf course. Wi-Fi on the walking paths. Wi-Fi at the falls. I gave them something they didn’t even know they wanted, and they loved me.