Men Of Moonstone Series

by Christine DeSmet

  Jason said, “Twenty-somethings are often our Number One suspect in burglaries. Even upstanding college students do stupid things.”

  Willa got up and rushed out, as Jason suspected she might.

  For his reward, the Moonstone Mavens glared at Jason.

  Hyacinth ripped the embroidery out of his hands. “How could you be that mean?” She, too, stomped out.

  Jason hurried after Hyacinth and Willa, sure he was about to collect a confession.

  ~—~—~—~ ~

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  * * *

  Chapter 5

  Jason saw Willa roar away in a rusty sedan.

  But Hyacinth was waiting for him next to his truck, with her arms crossed and eyebrows jammed together in a look that made his gut turn hard as cement.

  Jason said, “Her daughter could be involved. Or at least know something about the crimes.”

  “No.” Her eyes swirled with the smoke of rage and righteousness.

  He wished he'd never let his sister get him into this mess. “Maybe I'm not cut out to be a Maven.”

  “An understatement. You're a man. You don't care for nuance. I thought you were nice. I was wrong.”

  He opened the door for her. “Let's go get your bike. That is, if you want to ride with me.”

  “You insulted one of my friends, Jason. That wasn't nice.”

  “I'll give her free pest control services.”

  “That's about all they're worth.”

  “Does that mean you just cancelled our date for tonight?”

  “A date?” Hyacinth's blue eyes got their sparkle back. “You bet I'm keeping the date. The best punishment for insulting my friend is for you to tangle with the skunk again.”

  At Tootsie's place, Jason watched Hyacinth get on her bike and head down the road. Then he drove back to Moonstone to dig for more clues. He stopped at the hardware store only to find the student, Toad, in charge. After asking him a few casual questions, Jason headed for his sister's office.

  He sat across from Lily at her desk. She was staving off nausea by nibbling on soda crackers. He relayed all the events of that day, then added, “Bob Winters wasn't at his house this morning. Did he catch up with his wife at the hospital?”

  “Not that I know of. I've been calling regularly.” Lily grabbed for a lemon-lime soda can on her desk.

  “It's not suspicious that he can't be found?”

  “He's likely been over at the casino, trying to make money to pay for more stuff for his cruise boat. A lot of people turn off their cell phones while gambling.”

  “When I asked about him this morning, the Mavens gave me the impression he might have a girlfriend on the side.”

  “That's really not like Bob, though he and the other men took advantage of a cruise with topless waitresses before Kirsten and the women put the kibosh on that. Bob bought the boat soon after that incident from Kirsten's husband.”

  Jason stuck with his instincts. “The Mavens were miffed about something with Bob. I'll just have to dig further. There's something else that's curious. I found out at the hardware store just now that Tom Bauer and Greg Johnson left town today but Toad didn't know where they went. Greg left the hardware store in the hands of Toad. Strikes me as the fox guarding the hen house.”

  “You think Toad's stealing directly from the store?”

  “Could be. Or from delivery people, like Asher Hamm. He delivers more than just beer.”

  “You think Asher's in on it? You think it's the men who might be my suspects instead of the women?”

  “Could be,” Jason said. “What did Tom Bauer do for a job before he was laid off?”

  “He was an insurance agent.”

  That didn't sound like somebody who would mess with the electricity at Tootsie's place. “What about Kirk Kaminski?”

  “He serviced office machines, copiers and such.”

  Kirk probably knew how to disconnect electricity.

  Lily said, “Just like that, you're letting Hyacinth off the hook?”

  “There's something much bigger going on around here, bigger than Hyacinth and any petty thefts she might be behind.”

  “Petty or not, I still want to know what's going on out at Hyacinth's. What's hidden in all those locked buildings? And Willa Hamm's reaction to your hint that her daughter might be involved might be an admission of guilt. They're covering for Hyacinth.”

  Jason nodded, but his gut wasn't satisfied with easy answers. “Hyacinth led the group in prayer for Tootsie. Can a person like that really be running a burglary ring?”

  His sister sat back again in her chair. “They call that a good act. You were an actor. She's almost got you believing in her.”

  With that tongue-lashing, Jason decided to surprise Hyacinth by arriving at her place early, around five o'clock. When he rolled to a stop in her gravel yard, it was still light outside, but the temperature was dropping near freezing again. He was glad he'd borrowed an insulated, tan barn coat from Peter LeBarron.

  While he got out of his truck, Tildy Hamm ferried boxes from her hybrid car to the garage shed. He followed her, but she locked the door too soon, then shook a finger at him. “No peeking. You'll get your turn sometime.”

  She scooted away. He'd get his turn? Why?

  Jason went to the house, knocked, then went in when Hyacinth called to him from the kitchen. She was washing two black silkie chickens in the kitchen sink. Bubbles encased them like ermine coats.

  “Hi! You're early. You can help me with Hildegard and Henrietta. I'm afraid they decided to sit down in poop. They're a little too broody.”

  No way was he washing poop off chickens. This was way beyond DEA duty. He put his coat and hat over the back of a chair. “I'll start my watch for the skunks.”

  “Please?” Hyacinth picked up one hen from the soapy sink to the right, then placed her gently into the other sink closer to Jason. “You can rinse her. Make sure the water's warm first before spraying her. Hurry or she'll try to fly to you and end up splat on the floor.”

  When Hyacinth stepped away to tend to Hildegard, Henrietta flapped suds all over the walls and countertop clear over to the stove, readying to launch. Jason raced to block her. With her beady eyes looking up at him, Henrietta gurgled hen words. Jason rolled up his blue chambray shirtsleeves, turned on the water, tested it with his hand, then switched on the sprayer nozzle. Henrietta cocked her head at him, as if questioning his abilities. She flapped her wings, flinging bubbles. One hung off Jason's nose.

  Jason muttered to her, “Henrietta, I had to do this with cold water last night so don't complain. You've got it good.”

  “She likes the attention. She'll settle down even more when you begin handling her. Silkies are a little like puppies that way. They love petting.”

  He put a hand on one sudsy, soft wet wing, sprinkling water over her black feathers. Henrietta stretched her neck toward him, acting happy. Hildegard also looked content with Hyacinth massaging her with soap.

  Jason asked, “What does ‘broody’ mean?”

  “They want sex and to lay eggs. So they plop down all over the place looking all motherly and sexy, waiting for Colonel Cinders to notice.”

  “And where's Colonel Cinders? You don't let them date?”

  “I built him his own pen in the barn. I don't want chicks quite yet because it's been too cold. I was surprised Tootsie had hatched chicks already, but she's determined to sell them at the May Day celebration. Her chicks are all right?”

  “They're thriving. Peter's eager to see them go back to Tootsie's place, though, because his wife is aching to get involved. She hates being on bed rest.”

  “Sorry I got mad at you earlier today about insulting Willa. You were just trying to help us.”

  “The Mavens are an interesting group of ladies.” He wondered if they were covering for Hyacinth, as his sister said. “That Ruthie is quite the gal, dating over the Internet. You ever try that?”

  “I don't trust it. I like
seeing a man in the flesh.”

  Jason's flesh went hot. “Did you ... last night...”

  “Did I see you naked?”

  They exchanged a glance. Jason's heartbeat drummed louder.

  Hyacinth winked. “It was too dark. I was thinking about it, though.” Her eyes looked like crystal goblets, soaking in his reflection, filling up with him.

  Jason licked his lips at the odd sensation of being part of Hyacinth. He switched his attention to the hen in the sink. “I've never washed a chicken.”

  “And I've never had a man help me wash chickens. Those stuffy old profs of mine wouldn't be caught dead pulling this duty, and yet, this is what sustainable agriculture is really about.”

  “Getting your hands dirty, or in this case, wet.”

  “You bet. Tootsie's sure that silkie chickens will save little Moonstone, and I think she's right. I believe these chickens are a symbol of hope and our future.”

  “You could run for President with that speech and win.”

  Hyacinth's blue eyes bloomed like flowers under the sun. “President, huh?”

  Henrietta squawked up at Jason. “She agrees. You're a person with vision. A born leader, as far as I can tell.”

  “That's sweet, Jason. What're your dreams for the future?”

  Future? He'd never thought beyond the next DEA assignment. The drug dealing never went away; Jason's future saw him doing the same thing he was doing yesterday or today.

  Hyacinth waited for his response, worrying her sweet, pink lips with her teeth. It would be easy to lean over and plant his mouth on her dewy lips. But he reminded himself that nothing about him was real or honest, and he had no right to taint Hyacinth. “I guess my dream is to figure out how to be a better pest control fellow.”

  “Ruthie and Lily certainly see more potential in you than that.”

  He rinsed Henrietta's furry feet. “No auctioning me off at the moment.”

  Hyacinth took the sprayer from him, then handed him a towel to dry Henrietta. “Getting over somebody?”

  “Not much to get over. We only had acting in common.”

  “You're an actor? That's impressive. You've been holding back on me. Wait until I tell the Mavens.”

  “Hold on. I don't act now. Haven't for ten years.”

  “Do you ever ache to do it again? I used to sing in the church choir when I was a kid, and if I had the time—”

  “Hyacinth—” When he looked into Hyacinth's eyes, he saw the crystal goblets again inviting him to pour himself in. “I don't want to act again because I was involved in all kinds of bad stuff when I was younger.”

  “What kind of bad stuff?”

  “Meth.” His hands shook while he toweled the chicken. He shouldn't have told Hyacinth that.

  “I see. But you said younger. Lots of people try stuff once.”

  Jason could see that her hands had stilled. She was digesting the information, judging him. He said, “I was in college, about to graduate. I went on a fishing trip with buddies.” Here. Near Moonstone. He didn't dare say that. “We met up with some guys who made meth and dealt in a few other drugs. I was cocky, an actor back then with a couple of good reviews, and I thought I was hot stuff and invincible.”

  “But something bad happened to you. Something that made you quit acting.”

  Weighing what he should say or not, Jason lifted Henrietta out of the sink in a towel and into his arms. He sat down in a chair. The hen nestled down in his lap, burbling in satisfied tones. Jason petted her.

  He looked up at Hyacinth still standing at the sink. “After the two meth dealers left the bar, my buddies and I decided to follow our new friends to see what a meth lab looked like. What I didn't know was that an undercover cop who'd overheard us in the bar followed us. We were back in some remote area of a forest preserve, then barely out of our car before being shot at. Then the cop came out of nowhere and shot one of the guys and the other committed suicide on the spot.”

  “Oh, Jason. How horrible.”

  “It was. I really messed up. Got two people killed.” His sigh ruffled the drying feathers on top of Henrietta's head and she peered up at him. “I vowed I'd never be that stupid again.”

  “Oh, Jase.” Hyacinth put Hildegard on the floor, then came over to kneel next to him. She put a hand on his forearm, squeezing kindness into him. “Jason, it's in the past. And you weren't stupid. It was all an accident. I almost killed myself once.” She squeezed his arm harder in reassurance. “I used to sky dive. Until I broke both legs one time and jumbled up my insides a bit. The tree I landed in didn't fare much better.”

  She was smiling up at him. They were talking about the most tragic times in their lives and Hyacinth was smiling. Again. His heartbeat banged against his chest wall. “Would it be okay if I kissed you?”

  She nodded.

  He placed Henrietta on the floor, then got up, drawing Hyacinth into his arms.

  Her lips were pliant and warm and responsive. Kissing her was like a double dollop of whipped cream atop his coffee. And he wanted more of the sweetness.

  Jason backed out of the kiss long enough to look into her eyes for permission to take more. Blue and blue, their eyes reflected each other again and again like infinity mirrors.

  Hyacinth answered him by wrapping both her arms around his neck to pull him to her. Hyacinth's tongue tasted Jason's upper lip, teasing a groan from his throat.

  He cupped Hyacinth's derriere, pulling her more fully against him. She responded by raking her hands through his unruly hair, muttering amid their kisses, “Jason, this feels so—”

  Hyacinth pulled her lips off his, going statue still in his arms.

  Jason asked, “What's wrong?”

  “I hear the skunks under the back porch.”

  He wanted to curse. Over her shoulder he saw mice run across the floor in the living room. Jason had the uncanny feeling the mice had plotted against him, waking up the skunks to destroy the moment. The mice didn't want a pest control man in this house.

  This time, the mama skunk and her four babies headed for the treats Jason had placed much further into the woods. He watched to make sure they were gone. He scrambled to help Hyacinth nail boards over the holes in the wood foundation of her back porch.

  Jason didn't stay for dinner. He couldn't. He was letting himself like Hyacinth too much. Ordinarily he thought nothing of fooling a suspect into trusting him, but Hyacinth was different. Even if she were guilty of stealing, she ... had dreams. He had ... not much going for him.

  He blamed his indiscretions with Hyacinth on the Moonstone magic. That's what it was—an “M” word. The women here winked, flirted, and used magic. He had proof of it now. He'd washed a chicken for cryin’ out loud!

  Determined to shake off the influence Hyacinth had on his heart, Jason got back to his detective job. For about an hour he drove around Moonstone in the dark to see if anybody was out and about and looking suspicious. Other than cars passing through Main Street to and from the casino in Port Cliff, he saw nothing of consequence. And any of those people passing through could be the burglars. His sister had given him an impossible task.

  There was a small bar next to the hardware store, so he stopped for a beer to listen to local gossip. When he relayed the discussion he'd had with the group of men about the Moonstone Mavens, the bartender surprised him by saying, “It's not Bob Winters having an affair. It's his wife, Tootsie.” The bartender didn't know with whom, but he'd seen Tootsie driving in a small car with a young guy late at night when Bob was out of town.

  That insinuated that Bob Winters had a good motive for murdering his wife. Jason drove to the Winters’ place to look for clues he'd likely missed earlier. It was a little past ten, and cold under a starry sky.

  The doors were locked at the Winters’ house, so Jason smashed the window in the back door and let himself in. He tried the lights. There was no electricity yet. He flicked on the flashlight he'd brought along, then followed the back hallway to the living room.
The ceramic chicken collection was gone. Jason sagged in disappointment because he realized the Mavens had known he'd be at Hyacinth's tonight. That gave them time to come out here and burglarize the place. Did Hyacinth know about this robbery? Logic said she did, but his instincts also said to keep an open mind.

  He ventured to the empty corner, which had intrigued him on his last visit. The indentations in the carpet didn't look like a bookshelf's bottom or a TV stand. A desk had likely sat here. Who would steal a desk? And why? Had Bob conked his wife on the head here and had she bled on the desk? Had Bob wanted that evidence destroyed? But who could've helped him haul the desk out? Portly Bob wasn't in shape to do that on his own.

  Jason went down to the basement. He opened the lid on top of the washer. Clothes were soaking in the water that smelled putrid from sitting too long. Was Bob soaking blood out of his clothes? Jason took a closer gander, using one finger to fish about in the water. He discovered both men's and women's jeans. From what he'd learned about Tootsie, she never wore anything but colorful, stretchy pants. But Hyacinth wore jeans. It also still bothered him that she'd said that Tootsie had been out for an hour before he'd gotten here. His stomach turned sour. He hated thinking in logical ways. He hoped this was merely a load of laundry interrupted by the electricity going out and the jeans belonged to Tootsie. But Jason unplugged the washer so that if the electricity came back on the washer wouldn't rinse away evidence.

  Back upstairs in the kitchen again, Jason heard a creak. It came from the other room. The ghost?

  Another creak crackled. Was somebody upstairs?

  He proceeded with caution into the living room. He noticed boxes behind a sofa he hadn't seen before. The box on top held several ceramic chickens. Maybe he'd interrupted the thief packing them? His body tensed, on alert.

  A board creaked over his head again. “Who's up there?”

  No response.

  He called louder, “I've got the evidence. Your prints are all over these ceramic chickens.”

  He picked up the box of ceramic chickens, intending on taking them out to his truck, but he wasn't more than two steps into the kitchen when two officers burst through the door with flashlights shining in Jason's face and guns drawn.