“Because that’s what we all think of the doctor who killed Ma,” Corney said. He was sitting on the front stoop of the house. I had no idea how long he’d been there.
“She—” Leland started, fire in his eyes and hatred in his voice. “It’s isn’t the same!”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s … she … fuck you, Corney!”
Leland slammed his hand on the window of my car. I waited for it to shatter. It didn’t. Thank goodness. He stormed off toward the barn. Armin had a lot of work to undo and a lot of healing to bring about. Ellie and Corney would be amenable, I gathered, but he was going to have his hands full with his youngest.
I looked at Corney. He shrugged, pulled some earbuds out of his pocket, and plugged himself into his own little world.
Chapter 32
“This is for you,” Jeffers said, handing me a sealed envelope. “It’s from Inspector Morris.”
“Oh no. Is it a restraining order? Instructing me to stay at least a thousand feet away from you and any ongoing investigation?”
Jeffers chuckled.
It was a letter of commendation. I looked to Jeffers. “What’s this for?”
“For what it says. Read it.”
“‘The purpose of this letter is to formally commend Campbell James for her exceptional assistance to the NRP’—He had to use Campbell?” I was named after my father’s father and it was always the name used when I was in trouble. Maybe this was Morris’ way of shaking a finger at me.
“I like it. I wanted him to put Emma Samuel, but he wouldn’t go for it.”
The letter went on to paint a glorified picture of my involvement in the case. By the time I got to the end, even I was impressed.
“Aren’t these things usually given out at some kind of official banquet?”
“Yep. But you don’t get to go to that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a secret, remember? We promised to keep you out of the news?”
“I could have just gone for the meal. Kept my mouth shut.” Actors always love free food.
“Here,” he said, pulling a paper Starbucks bag out of his coat pocket. “Here’s your meal.”
“A half-eaten croissant? Oh, Jeffers, you do spoil me.”
I pulled off a flaky, buttery piece with my fingers and put it in my mouth. Moustache was instantly at my feet.
“Um … I’m going to need the rest of that back,” Jeffers said.
“What?” I mumbled through chews.
“I didn’t have breakfast and I’ve got a bunch of meetings.”
“No way! This is my banquet!” I said, holding the croissant above my head and running around the kitchen island.
“Oh, come on,” Jeffers said, giving chase.
Moustache bounced on his hind legs, barking in delight.
A long honk from a car horn stopped us in our tracks. Moustache ran to his chair in the living room to look out the window. Several shorter honks brought Jeffers and me to the front door.
“Hey,” Paul said, his head sticking out the driver’s side window of one of the smallest cars I’d ever seen.
It was a cherry-red Fiat 500.
“Whose is this?” I asked.
“A buddy of mine,” he said, somehow extricating himself from behind the wheel. “I’m babysitting his dog for a few days and he left me the keys. Come on, we’re going on an adventure.”
“What?”
“I have food, an overnight bag, and a full tank. Get Moustache and let’s go.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise! You’re going into tech rehearsals next week, which means I’ll hardly see you. So, to ensure that I don’t forget what you look like during that time, I’ve planned a getaway.”
Paul was right. I’d be teching two shows at the same time, which meant a series of twelve-hour days. This was easily our last chance for some quality time for a while.
I smiled. “Let me grab a few things.”
“I’ve got everything you’ll need,” he said, giving Jeffers a wink.
Jeffers laughed. “Enjoy it now. Once you’re married …”
I rolled my eyes at Jeffers and gave Paul a playful smack as he passed by me, picked up Moustache, and carried him to the car. Jeffers earned a further whack from my purse as I locked up.
I pulled open the passenger door and quite literally froze. Lying in the backseat was a full-grown St. Bernard and sitting atop the giant dog was Moustache. His eyes looked as if they would bulge out of his head. The two of us stared at each other, mouths agape.
“This is Tulip,” Paul said, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “She’s a sweetie. Get in.”
“We can’t.” I stammered, “He can’t.” I said, indicating Moustache.
“He’ll be fine. Come on!”
I looked to Jeffers for support.
He crossed his arms and shrugged. Still laughing.
I took a deep breath, got in the car, and tried not to imagine the ruckus that would inevitably occur when Moustache came out of his catatonia.
Paul backed the car out of the driveway and Jeffers waved as if watching the Queen Mary depart. Realizing I still held the remains of his croissant, I rolled down the window and threw it at him, which only encouraged further theatrics.
“This isn’t a good idea,” I said when we’d turned the corner. “Moustache—”
“Moustache is fine. Look at him.”
I turned in my seat to find Moustache curled up on Tulip’s back and the two of them sound asleep.
He gave my knee a squeeze, and then he took my hand and brought it to his lips. “Everything’s fine.”
In Gratitude
When I wrote Encore, I dreamed of making Bella’s story a series. I’m a fan of mystery series and there are several I follow. There is something wonderful about really getting to know characters—growing with them, rejoicing with them, and having your heart break right alongside them. It’s what I wanted for Bella and Moustache and Jeffers, but I didn’t know if I had it in me. I even balked when my first publisher wanted to put “A Bella James Mystery” on the cover as I felt that committed me to a sequel, at least, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to deliver. After two years, I’m delighted to bring you Triple Threat and among my first acknowledgments, I have to thank you—each and every one of you who read Encore and expressed your wish for more. I was writing Triple Threat during a hard time in my life and it was your enthusiasm for Encore and your love of Bella (or Moustache—who am I kidding?) that pushed me forward.
There were several others who were instrumental in Triple Threat’s fruition and who deserve equal thanks.
Over twenty years ago, Stephon Walker helped to lace up my medieval costume at a Renaissance Faire. We became friends, lost touch, reconnected years later, and when I learned he was working as a vet tech, he became my go-to for veterinary accuracy.
For medical accuracy, I’d like to thank Dr. Peter Collins, MD, FRCPC, who I’ve only had the pleasure of meeting via email and who treated my writing and the story with such care.
To capture the policing world, I had help from some of St. John’s finest, who have asked that their names be withheld but who deserve the recognition all the same.
There are a few characters who you’ve met in this book whose personal and professional challenges are drawn from conversations I had with Lorne Gretsinger. I’ve been very lucky to have worked with Lorne for many years and to call him a friend, and I am grateful for his bravery in sharing his own experiences with me.
As with Encore, I thank Peter Millard for being my Shaw Festival expert. He is the dearest of friends, an exceptional actor, and 31-year veteran of the Festival.
I also had a wonderful army of test readers who slogged through the rough drafts with love: Deborah Drakeford, Danielle Irvine, Jill Kennedy, Mary Koetting, Michelle O’Connell, Phyllis DeRosa Koetting, and Barbara O’Keefe. Ladies, I am ever grateful.
As I am to Mary
Ann Blair and the team at Iguana Books. I am so thrilled to be a part of their family.
And then there’s my family, which is a little bit different from when I wrote Encore. I went through a divorce and I lost my dear dog, Grady, just two months before finishing Triple Threat. He left me with fourteen wonderful years of inspiration to draw from, and he continues to make me laugh through Moustache’s antics.
I do not have enough words to reflect the kind of support I’ve received from my parents. Unwavering, fervent, and heartening are all good, but nowhere near sufficient. I feel thanks is insufficient as well, so I anxiously await the creation of a more accurate and encompassing word.
Thanks for reading, all. I’m already working on book three .
About the Author
Alexis has been working as a professional actor on stage and screen for over twenty years. Her debut novel, Encore, received nominations for both an Arthur Ellis and Bony Blithe Award in 2016. Alexis lived in Niagara-on-the-Lake for ten years and currently makes her home in St. John’s, Newfoundland, with a Bernedoodle puppy named Sebastian. She loves scary movies, dirty gin martinis, and has a terrible weakness for potato chips .
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