“That would be nice,” I agreed.
“You were still hanging over the railing when we finally got up there,” she continued.
“And that’s when Rye showed up?”
“Yeah, but not before one of Jimmy’s people landed in my fountain.” Karen chuckled. “Man, was that gratifying. But anyway, Rye wasn’t too happy to find Densmore flat on his back. Kiddo and I still haven’t figured that one out.”
“He’s afraid of heights,” I explained. “I think he fainted when he saw Bryce and me at the edge like that.”
“Gosh, I hope he’s okay,” Candy mumbled. She started chewing her knuckle, so Karen leaned over and handed her the bottle.
“But Rye was there?” I tried again.
“And went ballistic when he saw you,” Karen said.
“But then you surprised everyone, Jessie.” Candy had started bouncing again, so I took the bottle away from her. “You let out this really weird sound and all of the sudden you were sprawled out on top of Captain Rye, and Bryce was screaming that he had a gun.”
Karen agreed. “It was kind of crazy for a minute there. Bryce was running around, and John and a few of the other cops were trying to catch him.”
“That’s when Jimmy Beak picked up the camera from the fountain and threw it as hard as he could,” Candy added.
“Which worked really well at knocking John down. Like I said, Jess—mayhem.”
When we stopped laughing, Karen twitched a thumb toward Candy. “Kiddo here saved the day. She slipped out one of those high-heeled shoes of hers and tripped Bryce. He landed right on top of Densmore.”
I looked at Candy. “Good thinking, Sweetie.”
“Gosh, I hope Lieutenant Densmore didn’t get hurt.”
“It woke him up, anyway,” Karen said. “He and Bryce wrestled around some before Densmore got him handcuffed.”
Candy started that annoying bouncing thing again. “And that’s when everyone noticed you and Captain Rye, Jessie. It was so romantic!”
“Oh?”
“Oh, yeah! You fainted. And Captain Rye caught you and scooped you up into his arms.” Candy clasped her hands in glee. “It was just like in one of your books. There was a full moon behind him and everything!”
Karen tried to say something, but Candy was not to be interrupted. “Then he started yelling at the rest of us, ‘Listen up people.’” Candy’s imitation of Rye’s voice was surprisingly accurate. “‘Densmore’s got Webb, and the rest of you are looking for a cat. Snowflake,’ he screamed at us. ‘She’s pure white, gold eyes. She practically glows in the dark.’ he said. ‘Webb threw her over the edge.’”
I hugged my cat. She hates it when I do that, but she tolerated me this once.
Candy continued, “But we were all kind of stunned. We kind of stood there in shock or something.”
Karen took over. “So Rye got impatient and really started screaming. ‘Now would be nice, people!’ he said. And the cops, and Jimmy, and the Dibbles, and everyone, all started scrambling down the stairs. ‘Bring in SWAT if you have to.’ Rye kept hollering. ‘But find that cat!’”
“Then he told Karen and me to follow him,” Candy said.
“So we did,” Karen said. “He carried you down the stairs, and in here, and plopped you on the bed.”
“He did not plop her on the bed.” Candy looked at me. “He gently placed you on the bed, Jessie. It was just like a fairy tale.”
I sighed dramatically. If we weren’t careful, Candy might start doing some swooning herself.
“That’s when Kirby, Gus, and Old Man Harrison came in,” Karen said. “Kirby had Snowflake.”
“Kirby, Gus and Mr. Harrison?” I asked. “Would someone please hand me that bottle.”
Karen obeyed. “The guys found Snowflake on the awning over the front door. That must be where she landed.”
I smiled at my very lucky cat and Snowflake yawned.
“I guess none of us noticed her up there earlier,” Candy explained. “Since we were so busy trying to get up to the roof and all.”
“But Peter Harrison?” I was incredulous. “How in the world did he get involved?”
Evidently Snowflake had been most uncooperative when Kirby and Gus tried to coax her down from the awning, and had crouched up there hissing at the poor guys. Ever-resourceful, they knocked on the closest door, which happened to be Mr. Harrison’s. He fetched a ladder and a can of tuna, and helped with the rescue operation—in his pajamas, no less.
“Mr. Harrison’s kind of worried about you,” Candy told me, and I made a mental note to call on him the next day.
“Anyway,” Karen continued. “Kirby handed Snowflake off to Rye and the guys got out of here pretty quick. I think they were embarrassed being in your bedroom.”
“Jimmy Beak wasn’t though,” Candy added helpfully. “He ran in after Kirby left to see how you were doing.”
I started whimpering.
“Don’t worry, Jess.” Karen reached forward and patted my knee. “Remember he had lost his camera by then. And Rye told him if any of this made its way onto the news, he’d hunt him down and kill him personally.”
“So, Jimmy left?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm. And then Rye gently placed Snowflake on top of you.” Karen smirked at Candy over the ‘gently placed,’ and Candy nodded approval.
“He told us to take good care of you,” Candy said. “And then he told us he had to go and ran off.” She flung both arms into the air, performed a little sitting pirouette, and swooned onto the pillow next to me.
I glanced at Karen. “Help me,” I begged.
“Hey, don’t look at me,” she said. “At that point it wouldn’t have surprised me if the guy donned a cape and flew out the window.”
Candy sprang up and started bouncing again. “Gosh, Jessie, I wonder where Captain Rye is right now!”
I closed my eyes and told her she was giving me a headache.
Epilogue
Even I watched the news the next day. I was anxious to see exactly what Jimmy Beak would end up reporting, and was pleased to note he was informative, accurate, and dare I say it, subdued. Maybe it helped that he had zero footage to accompany his report, and that he actually had some real news to convey.
Indeed, Jimmy did a great job explaining the motive, means, and opportunity behind the murder. Even I learned something. It was Bryce’s—make that Keith’s—grandfather who had paid Stanley’s blackmail fees. I never did catch the full amount, but between Billy Joe Dent and Grandfather Webb, I now had a pretty good accounting of that pesky twenty-seven thousand dollars.
After Jimmy’s report, the Channel 15 News anchor interviewed Captain Rye. He explained the outcome of the investigation in more detail and made sure to acknowledge Carter O’Connell’s cooperation in remaining in jail until Dixon/Webb could be brought in.
The anchor was closing the interview when Rye interrupted. “I have one other person to thank before we wrap this up,” he said. “Jessica Hewitt, better known as the world-famous author Adelé Nightingale, was indispensable in solving this case. Her undying pursuit of justice and truth should be commended.”
He looked straight into the camera and grinned, and I was reminded that every bone, muscle, and fiber of my fifty-two-year-old body was in pain from the previous night.
That evening Rolfe Vanderhorn and I finally got around to pondering Alexis Wynsome’s predicament. We had left her in the clutches of the vile Derwin Snipe far, far, too long. I had been distracted from the task at hand. And let’s face it, Rolfe’s cunning could never be considered his strongest asset. The poor guy’s rescue plan had gotten nowhere without my assistance. I sat at my desk and stared at The Stone Fountain. Rolfe sat in his garden and stared at his sword.
But then he heard a horse galloping in the distance. It was coming closer! Rolfe leapt to his feet, his sword at the ready. Imagine his elation when a white stallion, carrying Alexis on its back, galloped up the lane and deftly cleared the picket fence into the
garden. The lovely—and who would have guessed it—capable Alexis brought the beast to a halt in front of Rolfe and beamed down at her hero. Rolfe promptly tossed his sword aside and helped the lady down.
It seems our triumphant heroine had grown impatient of waiting for help to arrive and rescue her from the dastardly Derwin’s dungeon. So she solicited the assistance of her trusty friend Annabelle Goodloe, and together they devised an ingenious plan. Her escape had involved not a little daring, but Snipe and his entourage of vassals were no match for Alexis Wynsome. Indeed, motivated as she was by sweet memories of the rugged and muscular Rolfe, Alexis proved once and for all that she was not a woman to be toyed with. Rolfe rejoiced at her fortitude and forbearance, even before Alexis told him who her father was.
But it was Saturday night, and Adelé Nightingale deserved some time off. I decided to end Temptation at Twilight while Alexis still possessed her youthful glow of beauty, and while Rolfe still possessed the considerable store of energy required for the final climactic love scene. I was putting the finishing touches on said scene, trying to think of another word for throbbing, when someone knocked at the door.
“Maybe it’s Prince Charming,” I said to Snowflake and answered to find Captain Rye leaning against the doorframe.
He looked different in jeans and a white tee shirt. The bunch of yellow roses he was holding also caught my attention.
“We have another problem, Ms. Hewitt.”
I crossed my arms and pretended to glare. “Oh?”
“Mm-hmm.” Rye nodded solemnly. “Now that Sweetzer’s killer has been identified, I’ve run out of excuses to come see you.”
“Oh?”
He grinned and handed me the flowers.
I closed my eyes and soaked in their scent before looking up. “Do you drink champagne, Captain Rye?”
“It’s Wilson,” he said as I ushered him inside. “And I have a feeling I’m gonna start loving champagne, Ms. Hewitt.”
“It’s Jessie,” I said and headed for the fridge.
The End
Please Keep Reading
The fun has just begun! If you enjoyed Playing with Poison and want to read more, check out the other books in Cindy Blackburn’s Cue Ball Mysteries series:
Double Shot
Jessie’s adventures continue in Double Shot when she goes undercover in a sleazy poolroom to catch a killer. This time it’s double-homicide, and Wilson Rye is doubly-annoying. You’d think the guy would appreciate Jessie’s help. But no. He’s too busy flirting with a woman half his age to even notice. Will Jessie have what it takes to solve the murders and deal with Tiffany La-Dee-Doo-Da Sass? Read and find out.
Double Shot Sneak Peek
Three Odd Balls
A romantic vacation for…five? This wasn't exactly what Jessie and Wilson had in mind when they planned their trip to the tropics. They didn't plan on solving a murder either. But when one of the Three Odd Balls tagging along with them seems destined for a jail cell, guess what?
Amazon Author Page
Double Shot- Sneak Peek
Chapter 1
“Candy Poppe has a poodle named Puddles, and I’m suffering from plot plight,” I informed Wilson the minute he walked through the door.
He set a bag of groceries on the counter. “Excuse me?”
“Candy, Wilson. My downstairs neighbor? Pretty, perky, petite. Prone to miniskirts and stilettos?”
“I know who Candy is, Jessie. She got a poodle?”
“A puppy from the pound. He’s not a purebred.”
Wilson blinked twice. “Have you met Puddles?”
“He came up to play today,” I said, and we both instinctively glanced at Snowflake, who was perched on her favorite windowsill.
“What did you think of Puddles?” Wilson asked my cat.
She yawned abundantly while I answered, “Puddles pranced around, and Snowflake supervised from where she’s sitting right now. All went well until Puddles piddled.”
“She disapproved?”
“She was most displeased.” I waved at the expanse of wood floors in my condo. “Although wiping it up was pretty painless.”
Wilson shook his head. “If I hear one more P-word—“
“You’ll pull out your pistol?” I smiled at my profound powers of alliteration, but my beau the cop was unimpressed.
“Maybe we should move on to plot plight,” he suggested.
I agreed that was probably a good idea and pulled a bottle of champagne from the fridge.
If you ask me, everything works better with champagne. And trust me, the rather unlikely saga of An Everlasting Encounter, my latest literary venture, would definitely be easier to fathom with bit of bubbly. I popped the cork while Wilson got dinner underway.
“Think Cinderella, but with a wicked sister-in-law,” I began. I handed him a glass and found my favorite barstool.
“Sarina Blyss has run away from home. She had to leave because her brother Norwood inherited the family estate after their father died. That shouldn’t have been a problem, but then Norwood married Agnes. And the altogether evil Agnes quickly turned poor Sarina into a virtual slave.”
Wilson tossed a handful of garlic into a sauce pot. “Did you take those meatballs out of the freezer like I asked?”
But, of course. If Wilson Rye wants to fill my freezer with all kinds of homemade Italian delicacies, the least I can do is follow a few simple instructions. I pointed him toward the fridge, and he dumped the thawed meatballs into a hot frying pan.
Snowflake hopped into my lap, and together we watched him do his magic. Spaghetti and meatballs here we come.
“So now it’s three years later,” I continued.
“Later than what?”
“Three years after Norwood married the bitch. Now, I don’t actually call Agnes a bitch in the book, but my readers will get the idea.”
“Agnes who?”
“Wilson!” I put down my glass and waved a hand to get his attention. “Agnes Blyss is the altogether evil sister-in-law. Sarina got tired of scrubbing her floors and left home with a small satchel of all her worldly belongings, including her most cherished possession, the golden necklace her mother bestowed upon her the night she died.”
“Bestowed upon her?”
I nodded solemnly. “Sarina was a mere child when her mother passed away, and then her father died when she was sixteen. The poor thing is an orphan.”
Wilson rolled his eyes, and I suggested he drink some champagne.
“Sarina had an important decision to make the day she left home,” I said. “When she got to the crossroads at the end of the lane, she had to choose between walking to Priesters, the charming village she used to visit with her father, or heading in the opposite direction toward the big town of St. Celeste. She knew St. Celeste was twenty miles away, but she had never been there.”
“So she chose the charming village, right?”
“No!” I jumped a bit. “That surprised me, too. She decided on St. Celeste. She pulled her necklace out of the satchel and clasped it around her neck for good luck. Then she embarked on her journey to St. Celeste, where she knew not a soul, mind you. But after a couple of hours Sarina grew weary and stopped to rest beside the lavender fields.”
“And let me guess, Jessie. That’s when she got herself kidnapped by the sinister Lord Snip, or Snap, or Snoop, or whatever.” Wilson twirled his wooden spoon in the air for emphasis. “And now she’s trapped in this guy’s castle, waiting to be rescued by some stupid hunk with a huge—“
“No, Wilson,” I interrupted. “That’s what happened in Temptation at Twilight. But we are now discussing An Everlasting Encounter. It’s a completely different story.” I tossed my head in a haughty manner reminiscent of one of my heroines. “Adelé Nightingale never repeats a story.”
“Whatever you say, Adelé.” He chuckled over my penname, but I ignored him and moved on.
“Just as Sarina stood up from the lavender field, determined to finish her ard
uous journey, a handsome stranger driving a white carriage came along and offered her a ride. And of course, the stranger became smitten with Sarina along the way.”
“Of course.” Wilson shook salt into a pot of boiling water and poured in the spaghetti.
“But unbeknownst to Sarina, the handsome stranger is none other than Trey Barineau, the Duke of Luxley! Can you believe it?”
“Not really.”
“The trouble is, Sarina had somehow torn her frock during this whole encounter, and so Trey dropped her off at the dress-maker’s shop in St. Celeste. And the proprietress Winnie Dickerson shooed him away before he could properly introduce himself, or even learn the lovely damsel’s name.”
“Why didn’t the evil baron-guy just kidnap her, Jessie? Isn’t that what always happens in your books?”
“Nooo. That is not what always happens in my books. And Trey Barineau is the hero, for Lord’s sake. He would never kidnap anyone.” I sighed dramatically. “And therein lies the dilemma.”
“Huh?”
“Would you please stay with me here? Sarina has found employment with Mrs. Dickerson. Because, despite her delicate hands and fingers, she is quite talented with a needle and thread. And now this lowly seamstress must somehow come back into contact with the Duke of Luxley. Meanwhile, Trey is up in Luxley Manor, simply beside himself with lustful longings for the lovely and lithe Sarina, whose identity he knows not!”
Wilson squinted up at the heavens. Or at least at the skylight.
“So?” I asked. “How will their chance encounter in the lavender field become everlasting?”
“Who’s that?”
“Oh, for Lord’s sake! Trey and Sarina! Any ideas?” I appealed to my beau for inspiration.
My mother refers to Wilson Rye as my beau, and for lack of a better alternative, so do I. Beau may sound a bit southern and old-fashioned, but I was born and raised in South Carolina, and have lived in Clarence, North Carolina for decades, so I am a southerner. And although I won’t claim to be old-fashioned, I am getting old.
Playing With Poison Page 23