Love Can Be Murder Box Set

by Bond, Stephanie

  She swallowed as tears rolled down her cheeks. "My husband."

  He nodded.

  "And my mother."

  He pulled her into his arms and she went, crying softly against the solid warmth of his chest. He held her tight and rubbed her back, kissing her hair. "It'll be okay," he murmured. "You'll get through this. You're a strong woman."

  At his words, she closed her eyes tightly. You'll get through this. You, as in by yourself. She chided herself for wanting him to care enough to stick around—they barely knew each other, and he had other commitments, commitments that were less sticky. She inhaled deeply, savoring the musky maleness of him a few seconds longer, then pulled away with a nod and a sniff.

  "You're right," she said, trying to sound upbeat. "Of course I will. And I appreciate all of your help."

  "My pleasure, Red." He smoothed her hair back from her face. "You know the investigation will go on, even after an arrest is made. The police still have a lot of leads to follow—Sheena, Steve, your friend from Atlanta."

  The police—meaning he was definitely moving on. "Right." She angled a jaunty little smile up at him. "I assume you'll be sending me an invoice for your time when you get back to the city?"

  He dropped his hand, then nodded. "Sure, if that's what you want."

  "I think that would be best," she said, and they both knew she was referring to more than just his billing process.

  "I'll probably be in town through the rest of the day," he said. "Walking around the festival, asking questions."

  She smiled cheerfully. "Great. So maybe I'll see you around."

  He lowered his mouth to hers for a sweet, sexy, sizzling good-bye kiss that resurrected every twinge and tingle from their night of lovemaking. When he lifted his head, he said, "Yeah. Maybe I'll see you around."

  He left, and Penny stood at the window, hugging herself and watching him walk away. Then she went to the kitchen to count out her vitamins.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Make sure you have a stomach for it...

  WHEN PENNY ARRIVED AT THE STORE, she felt remarkably calm. In a way, she was looking forward to the arrest, like coming up for air after being underwater so long your lungs hurt. If B.J. had uncovered her past, it would be only a matter of time before the police found out...or maybe they already knew. Maybe Maynard had been able to tell the minute he'd seen her. She always felt as if she wore the shame of her family on her sleeve.

  She wondered how they would take her in—with much fanfare and television coverage, or would they put a brown paper bag over her head? Wouldn't it be ironic if she wound up in the same prison as her mother?

  Guy was morose this morning, burrowing into the stockroom behind paperwork. Marie was artificially cheerful. She had gotten an e-mail message from Kirk, who was supposedly on a medical mission in some third-world country. Penny let her prattle on, since customers were few and far between, many of them already heading out of town on this last day of the festival. Marie was looking out the window, in the direction of the pink house. Penny wondered idly how much longer Mona would allow Sheena to live there. Since their divorce, Deke had undoubtedly willed everything to his mother, and since Sheena and Deke hadn't yet married, the woman would be entitled to nothing except gifts.

  But the Sheena Linders of the world seemed to land on their feet. The Penny Franks, on the other hand, seemed to land on their heads.

  "Hey, doesn't that P.I. guy you're sleeping with drive a green car?" Marie asked.

  Penny frowned. "Who said I was sleeping with him?"

  "Oh, please."

  Penny moved toward the window. "Do you see him?"

  "He just drove up to the Victorian and got out. He's waiting for someone to come to the door."

  Curious, Penny grabbed her mini binoculars and peeked through the blinds, a sense of déjà vu settling over her to see B.J. standing on the porch, waiting for the door to be opened. She frowned. What could he be doing at Sheena's?

  As she watched, the door opened, and Sheena appeared in a sexy, gauzy getup. Penny rolled her eyes—the woman's tailbone was broken and she still couldn't help herself. They appeared to be talking rather seriously, then suddenly B.J. removed something from beneath his coat and handed it to Sheena. If not for the color, Penny might not have recognized the lime green stiletto that she'd dug out from under her hip when she'd ridden in his car.

  Wonder how long that's been there?

  Behind the binoculars her eyes stung—it was Sheena's? He'd been her lover all along?

  Then B.J. handed Sheena another item—a black videotape.

  Penny stepped back from the blinds as if she'd been slapped. Hurt and betrayal washed over her. Had he been working for Sheena all this time? Was there something on the tape that would help Sheena in some way? More disturbing thoughts battered her. B.J. had been at Caskey's the night of the murder—it would have been easy for him to have placed the voodoo doll on the table for Sheena, especially since Penny had made such a fool out of herself falling for his charm.

  Her heart hammered. B.J. could have killed Deke for Sheena...B.J. carried a gun—he could have shot at her while she was running, then gone back and dug out the slug under the guise of warning her. B.J. could have planted the snake in her apartment—he'd certainly killed it handily enough. B.J. knew every little incriminating thing about her. Would he testify against her? And wasn't she the biggest fool ever born to think that he had actually cared about her?

  "Penny?" Marie asked. "Are you okay?"

  "I'll be in my office," she managed to get out. She closed the door and leaned against it, tingling with shame. What about her made her such an easy target for deceitful men? Did she reek of desperation? Did she emit vibes of gullibility? On her desk, her cell phone rang, and Gloria Dalton's number came up.

  Penny steeled herself, then flipped down the mouthpiece. "Hello?"

  "Penny," Gloria said, her voice breaking. "The D.A. just issued a warrant for your arrest."

  Penny closed her eyes as fear filled every cell of her body. "How long do I have?"

  "Maybe thirty minutes. Do you have the list of attorneys I gave you?"

  "Yes, thank you, Gloria, you've been wonderful during all of this."

  "I'm not going anywhere. We'll see this through, okay?"

  "Okay," Penny said, feeling guilty for dragging the woman into the mess, then disconnected the call. She locked her office door and withdrew the little gold key for the secured desk drawer.

  She slid it open and gazed upon bag after bag of malt vinegar and sea salt potato chips. She tore into one bag and placed a mouth-sized chip on her tongue, flinching when the sharp tang of vinegar hit her taste buds. She pressed the chip against the roof of her mouth, breaking it into tiny pieces to release all the pent-up taste. Then she chewed slowly and swallowed, flush with pleasure. She always ate the first bag that way.

  The second bag, she lined up the chips on her desk and ate them by size, stacked in little sandwiches of three or four. The crunch was intense, and the tart rush of flavor made her mouth pucker.

  For the third bag, all bets were off—she crammed in as many as she could get into her mouth. By now, her tongue was raw from the sea salt, but that didn't keep her from licking her fingers to get every last grain out of the corners of the bag.

  Forget black truffles—she'd take these fat-and salt-laden delicacies over any kind of fancy fungus.

  Suddenly Penny froze, her finger in her mouth, as a thought slid into her head so solitarily brilliant that she could almost hear the gonging noise in her brain. The blending of two memories...of Jimmy Scaggs saying that his beloved and valuable truffle-hunting dog Henry was out of commission, and of Deke's crumpled front bumper.

  She could still hear the squeal of tires as Deke had pulled away from the museum Friday morning, driving like a teenager. Henry had escaped from the truck bed once that morning—what if Henry had gotten loose on the road? What if Deke had hit the dog, maybe killed it, and driven on? What if Jimmy
had seen it all? Would he have killed Deke over his dog?

  Penny swallowed the last salty bite. Yep.

  A knock sounded on the door. "Penny?" Marie's voice quavered. "Detective Maynard and Chief Davis are here to see you."

  She jumped up and stuffed the crackly, empty potato chip bags in the trash can, then licked her fingers before wiping them on her jeans. She flung open the door to see Allyson, Detective Maynard, and two uniformed New Orleans police officers.

  "Penny Francisco," Detective Maynard began.

  "Wait," she said, holding up her greasy hands stop-sign fashion. "I know who killed Deke."

  Allyson Davis cursed. "So do we—you."

  "No," she said, then looked at Detective Maynard. "Please—hear me out. Just walk across the street with me. If you don't find on the bumper of Deke's car what I think you'll find, then you can arrest me."

  "This is bullshit," Allyson said.

  "Please," Penny said to Detective Maynard. "It'll take only a few minutes. This is my life we're talking about."

  The man wavered.

  "Please?"

  Then he sighed. "Okay, Ms. Francisco, you've got ten minutes for your little field trip."

  "Follow me." She jogged past them, then outside, where she bounded across the street to the pink Victorian. B.J. and Sheena were still on the porch and pivoted their heads as the entourage of Penny, Detective Maynard, Chief Davis, the two officers, Marie, and Guy came onto the property.

  "What's going on here?" Sheena shouted from the porch.

  B.J. squinted at Penny and lifted his hands in question.

  "Tell her to open the garage," Penny said to Detective Maynard.

  He sighed. "Open the garage, Ms. Linder."

  "Why?" Sheena shouted.

  "Just do it," he said in a tired voice.

  B.J. left the porch and joined them in front of the garage. "What's going on?" he whispered.

  "I have a theory," she said, still smarting over his obvious lies about Sheena.

  "What kind of theory?"

  "Just watch."

  Sheena returned with the remote control opener and pushed a button. The double garage door rose slowly, and Penny was thankful that Deke liked to back in when he parked. His crumpled bumper shone beautifully in the sun.

  "Now what?" Maynard asked.

  "Check the bumper," she said. "See if you find any blood or fur."

  "Fur?" Maynard said.

  "Fur," she repeated.

  Maynard crouched down, then craned his neck and squinted. "There's something..." He pulled out a penknife and scraped at it. "It's blood, I think."

  Penny's heartbeat picked up.

  Then he removed a small plastic bag and scraped something into it. "And...looks like fur. Reddish—maybe a dog?"

  She nodded. "Bloodhound."

  "So?" Allyson asked, clearly inconvenienced.

  Maynard was quiet, but his arched eyebrows echoed the chief's question.

  Remorse pulsed through her for the information that she possessed and whom it would hurt. Jimmy Scaggs had offered to give her an alibi for Deke's murder...because he had actually committed the murder. She didn't want to believe that the oddly gentle man could do something so heinous, but it all made horrific sense.

  "Penny," Allyson prompted, "we don't have all day."

  Penny closed her eyes briefly, then sighed. "I think Deke hit Jimmy Scaggs's dog, maybe killed him, sometime Friday, and Jimmy went to Deke's Friday night for retribution."

  "Over a dog?" Maynard asked.

  "It's a very valuable dog," she assured him.

  Maynard looked at Allyson. "Do you know this Scaggs character?"

  "Yeah, but I don't think—"

  "Let's bring him in," Maynard said. "I want to see where this takes us." Then he looked at Penny. "You're coming with us, too...just in case your theory backfires."

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Beware of a missing ingredient...

  PENNY AND B.J. SAT ALONE in an interview room at the police station while Jimmy Scaggs was being questioned in another part of the station. Gluey silence stretched between them. Penny wasn't even sure why B.J. had come with her.

  "That was good thinking back there," he finally said.

  She lifted her eyebrows. "Thanks."

  "So what is it that this bloodhound hunts that makes him so valuable?"

  "I'm not at liberty to say."

  "You're angry."

  "What?"

  "You want to know why I was talking to Sheena Linder."

  "That's none of my business," she said, studying her nails.

  "It's not what you think."

  "Oh? What else could it be if the woman's shoe is in your car?"

  He blanched.

  "I saw you give it to her."

  "You were spying?"

  "No. I just happened to be looking out the window." With her binoculars. She frowned. "I saw you give her the videotape, too."

  His eyebrows went up, then he pursed his mouth. "And what do you suppose that means?"

  Penny crossed her arms. "That you're working for Sheena."

  "I am?"

  "Yes." She narrowed her eyes. "What else could it be?"

  "I'm not at liberty to say."

  "Good."

  "Good."

  The door opened and Detective Maynard walked in. "You were right, Ms. Francisco. Mr. Black apparently hit the dog and kept going. Jimmy Scaggs just admitted to going to Mr. Black's residence Friday night, arguing, then hitting him over the head with the cane. That's backed up by some partial fingerprints we found on the cane."

  Penny winced. "How's the dog?"

  "Scaggs said he almost died, but he's improved in the last couple of days."

  "What about the garden stake?" B.J. asked.

  "He says he doesn't remember doing it," Maynard said. "But he admits that he probably did. Seems like the man had a pretty low opinion of Mr. Black to begin with, and a pretty fair crush on Ms. Francisco, so the hit-and-run probably just pushed him over the edge." He clapped his hands. "Looks like we got us a solved case."

  She went limp with relief.

  "I'm sorry, Ms. Francisco, for the anguish you've gone through. Please accept our apology on behalf of both police departments. I hope you know that we were only trying to do our jobs."

  She nodded thoughtfully, relieved beyond words to be off the hook for Deke's murder, but grief-stricken by the knowledge that Deke had lost his life because he'd been a bad driver and a jerk, and now Jimmy would likely spend a good chunk of the rest of his life in prison. "I owe Jimmy some money, if he needs to make bail. And if he needs a character witness, please let me know."

  B.J. frowned and scratched his head. "So Scaggs copped to the voodoo doll?"

  "No, but that's probably just a coincidence, whipped out of proportion because of this voodoo festival going on," Maynard said. "One of Ms. Francisco's friends probably brought it, and now is afraid to admit it because of what happened."

  B.J. nodded slowly. "I guess you're right. If Scaggs had a crush on Penny, he wouldn't have been trying to frame her."

  "Right," Maynard said. "Ms. Francisco, you're free to go."

  Penny and B.J. walked outside, and she breathed in the cool air of freedom as deeply as possible, then exhaled noisily. "God, what a week."

  "Yeah," he said. "Seems longer, doesn't it?"

  She nodded and smiled at him, glad it was ending this way, on a friendly note. "Did you ever hear back on the hair you found at the museum?"

  "Not yet."

  She gave a little laugh. "We were really letting our imaginations run away, weren't we?"

  "Yeah."

  "I guess that's what happens when you want something to be true so badly—you make up the middle."

  He met her gaze. "So true."

  "I hope you find those missing women."

  "Me, too," he said, then his eyes turned pensive. "But meanwhile, I'm glad I found you." He leaned forward and gave her a kiss next to her ear. "
It was fun."

  "Yeah, it was," she said with a sunny smile, but inside she was heartbroken. She had been too needy last night, too...intimate. Intimacy scared men more than war. Still, she'd known from the beginning that B.J. Beaumont wasn't the settling down kind of guy, so it wasn't as if she was surprised.

  "We could still take in another afternoon of the festival," he said.

  Tempting, but she'd overindulged enough for one day. "I think I've had enough voodoo to last me for a while," she said. "I might restake my garden—with surveyor's paint this time."

  "Sounds productive," he said. "Okay, well, I guess I'll see you around, Red."

  "Sure. The next time you're in Mojo, look me up."

  "I will," he said, then strode away, his step carefree.

  "No, you won't," she murmured, watching him walk away. "But I'll never forget you."

  Her cell phone rang, and Gloria Dalton's number popped up. "Hello, Gloria? Did you hear the good news?"

  "The D.A. called me," Gloria said, her voice sounding strained. "How frightening is it to think the wrong person was almost prosecuted for Deke's murder?"

  "Pretty frightening when it's me," Penny admitted.

  "So, um, the D.A. mentioned he might have a place for me on his staff."

  Penny smiled into the phone. "Criminal law? Are you considering it?"

  "I'm considering it," Gloria said. "It's certainly more exciting than family and divorce law, and I'm looking for a change."

  "Keep me posted?"

  "Absolutely. Oh, and Penny, I kept forgetting to tell you. I ran a background check on that P.I. that Chief Davis was so suspicious of, Baron Jeffrey Beaumont."

  Baron Jeffrey? "Yes?" Penny said, her pulse clicking higher. She could still see him in the distance. Was he a con man? Criminal? Fugitive?

  "He's legit. And he works pro bono."

  Penny frowned. "What? How does he make a living?"

  "He already did that—made a small fortune in technology. He and his brother started an agency and take on missing persons cases. Sounds like a real stand-up guy."

  Penny closed her eyes briefly, her heart aching. "Yeah, sounds like it." She disconnected the call and watched him until he disappeared into the crowd.