Murder in Real Time

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  In true pontificating goofball form, he stripped off his shirt despite the evening chill. A bunch of ladies swooned and squealed.

  “That’s ridiculous,” I said. “Completely bonkers. What are you doing? It’s cold. Get a jacket.”

  He wrapped goose-bump covered arms around two voluptuous blondes and winked at me. “Thanks, Mom.”

  I guffawed. A blonde in silver stretch pants laughed. “That’s your mom? It’s so cool you brought her along.”

  “I am not his mother!” He was twenty-six years old. Was she blind? I rubbed the creases on my forehead and pulled a swath of bangs down to my eyebrows.

  Sebastian cut back through the crowd, carrying a camera. “Got it.”

  “I am not old enough to be his mother,” I muttered.

  Sebastian kissed my head and steered me to the cotton candy man. “You did good. One less camera in town. You want pink or blue cotton candy?”

  “Blue.” I took the warm spun sugar, smiled, and leaned into the curve of Sebastian’s body. “Claire took all my good food and she’s trying to make me run a marathon.”

  Sebastian stared.

  “Say something.”

  His forehead creased. “Has she met you?”

  I nodded. “She’s a meanie. She took everything and left me with whole grain tortillas and yogurt.”

  “How does that make you feel?” He smiled at his long-running joke on my profession. He’d spent his share of time in required FBI counseling after stints undercover or discharging his firearm. The counselors all asked that question once too often.

  “How do I feel about granola and low fat cheese?” I curled my arms against my chest and did a witchy voice. “It burns us.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Was that a Scooby Doo impression?”

  “Stop,” I laughed. “I was Gollum.”

  “No. That was bad. That was like Shaggy doing a Scooby impersonation.”

  “It was a really good Gollum.” I stuffed wads of cotton candy into my mouth. It wilted and vanished on my tongue. “You want to hear it again?”

  “No. Definitely not.” He kissed my sticky lips. “What are you wearing to Adrian’s rally tomorrow? He said we have to come in costume.”

  A light flicked on inside me. “You’re going to Adrian’s rally? I thought you’d have to work.”

  He locked his hands behind my back. “Island politics are deeply important to me. What’s your costume?”

  “None. You can go as FBI. I’m not wearing any costume.”

  His lips lifted in an ornery smile. “Dirty. You’ll need me for protection then. If you decide against nudity, you can always go as the new face of Extreme Island Makeovers.” He turned me to face a sign on the window of Mrs. Davis’ tanning salon. She’d taken a candid of me and added clip-art hair and someone else’s body.

  Fire scorched through my limbs. Had she lost her ever-loving mind? She couldn’t do that without my permission. Where’d she get that awful picture of me? I curled my fingers into fists at my side. I looked ridiculous. My hands trembled in frustration. “I can’t believe it. I mean. I can’t. Can you?” I waved my arms pointlessly. What could I do about it? “She’s evil.”

  Sebastian pulled me back to his body. “Tell me again why you moved back to a place that makes you nuts?”

  Words escaped me. I thought he got it. My heart broke a tiny bit as I considered the possibility I was wrong about how he felt about Chincoteague. He might leave once Jimmy the Judge was captured. Then what? My throat thickened.

  I took a deep breath. “I moved here because there’s nowhere else I’d rather live.” The truth of the statement settled into my core. Even with all the quirks and legends and nosy neighbors. Chincoteague was family and you didn’t leave your family.

  “Just checking.” He grabbed my hips. “May I have a bite of that cotton candy?”

  I hid the almost-bare paper cone behind my back and licked my lips. “All gone.”

  He moved closer, pressing his hips to mine. “That’s disappointing.”

  I pulled my gaze from his hypnotic brown eyes to my apartment in the distance. I lifted onto my tiptoes and grazed his ear with my lips. “I might be able to locate a little more sugar at home.”

  Sebastian growled and lifted me off my feet. I squeaked as he tossed me over one shoulder like a caveman and strode through the crowd toward my home. Best First Friday ever.

  * * *

  Adrian’s rally was hopping when Claire and I arrived. He’d erected a stage on the site of his old boathouse. The boathouse went up in fireworks in July, but he’d rebuilt. Tables of food and arches made of balloons were set in front of a pretty new building, the future home of my counseling practice, if I ever convinced anyone to meet me in an office instead of under the guise of shopping, jogging or driving golf balls.

  I adjusted sunglasses over my eyes. The sun wasn’t warm, but it reflected off the harbor, bright enough to blind me. Fall hung in the air, hot apple cider lifted from steaming cups and dew-covered leaves floated to the ground with every puff of wind. The buttery scent of scallops called to my tummy. Gulls screamed overhead, circling the giant steamers where Melinda and Missy prepared fresh seafood skewers for the crowd. Random bleating of tugboats on the harbor punctuated the high school band playing our fight song. Adrian’s party was magnetic. Street vendors closed in on the scene, moving their carts closer to the action and farther from Main Street. People exited shops and walked immediately in our direction.

  Masses of costumed people covered the lawn. It was like attending a masquerade ball outdoors, in full daylight, surrounded by a lot of American flags.

  I eyeballed Claire. “This is the strangest campaign rally I’ve ever attended.”

  Her formfitting costume emphasized the hours she spent at the gym. A set of trademark eyes printed across her shoulder blades underlined The Watchers’ logo. She’d wound a silk scarf around her head like a headband in poison green, a perfect match for her fingernails and wedges. She adjusted her gadget belt and smiled. “It’s fun. I still can’t believe you didn’t come in costume. Party pooper. We could’ve been a pair of gorgeous ghost hunting besties, mesmerizing every ghost on the island with our sexy outfits and capturing them with our kick-ass attitudes.”

  “Yeah, but every party needs a pooper.” I snuggled into my white wool coat and scanned the area for Sebastian. “Sebastian said he’d be here, but he was gone when I woke up this morning. Did you see him?”

  Claire pointed to a figure standing next to my parents, who wore Team Adrian shirts and jester hats. “There.”

  A bolt of electricity shot through me. Sebastian came as FBI, like I’d suggested. “I’ll be right back.” I crossed the lawn with my eyes locked on familiar black cargo pants and a flak jacket. I snuck up behind him and pressed my hands over his eyes. He crouched, and I whispered against the back of his neck. “I love a man in uniform. Care if I help you out of it later?”

  He spun on me in a heartbeat, lifting my feet off the ground and laughing boisterously over the deafening crowd.

  Wait a minute. It wasn’t like Sebastian to spin me around or laugh like a frat boy. Drat! I slapped the imposter’s chest.

  “Put me down.” I wiggled free and straightened my coat. “What are you doing dressed like that?”

  Adrian’s freshly washed hair was darkened and wet. He was dressed in full combat gear.

  “Where’d you get those clothes?” I demanded.

  “Claire.”

  Of course. His new best friend, Claire. Those two were killing me. “Why are you dressed as FBI?”

  “It’s a costume rally, and you like a man in uniform, remember?” He pulled me against his side. “I’m hoping your other offer still stands.”

  “Stop. It’s a criminal offense to impersonate a government agent.
” I shoved his hand away. He put it back the minute I let him go. I pushed it off me. The process escalated to a frenzy of hand slapping.

  Mom giggled. “Just like old times. You two never could keep your hands off one another.”

  “Argh!” I hopped around him and stood beside my mother. I tried glaring at Adrian, but my face wouldn’t cooperate and my heart thundered stupidly in my chest.

  Mom stroked my arm. “Where’s your costume, sweetie?”

  “I’m not dressing up.”

  Claire’s laughter rose above the noise of the crowd. She stood with Fargas on the edge of the lawn. They looked oblivious to the two hundred people around them. He handed her a red helium balloon.

  “He digs her.” Adrian tied a white balloon on my wrist.

  “I don’t need a balloon. I’m thirty.”

  He shrugged. “You like balloons. Plus it’s cute.” He tugged the string and the balloon bounced in the air above my head.

  “Thanks.”

  His soulful blue gaze pierced mine. “I’m glad you came.”

  A smile curved my lips. I’d never miss a chance to support Adrian. He must’ve known that. I looked away. “You think they’re hooking up behind our backs?” I pointed to Fargas and Claire.

  “Looks like it. It’s about time, too. He’s had his eye on her since the day they met.”

  “Really?” I turned back to Adrian and regretted it immediately. His eyes burned with unspoken emotion.

  “Yeah. He was just a deputy then. She was FBI. He didn’t think he had a shot. Now, he’s the sheriff. I think he feels like that’s enough to earn her respect. Makes him a worthwhile candidate for her attention.”

  “That’s silly. She doesn’t care about stuff like that.”

  “She should. Care that he’s trying, I mean. Women aren’t the only people who like to be respected, Miss Feminist Pants. Some men would do anything to get a girl’s undivided attention.” His gaze drifted to the platform where he’d soon give his campaign speech.

  “Adrian.”

  He shook his head and pursed his lips. “Don’t read into that. We’re talking about Fargas,” He squeezed my arms and kissed my cheek. “I’d better go make nice with the citizens of this fair town before I run out of shrimp and they leave.”

  I struggled for a breath as he walked away. It wasn’t fair that after all these years, he still took the oxygen with him when he left.

  “Patience!” Claire and Fargas crossed the lawn to me. “Have you heard his speech yet? He practiced it last night on me. It’s amazing. He’s a great speaker.”

  I shook my head, fending off emotion I couldn’t explain. “You knew that wasn’t Sebastian when you sent me over here.”

  She smiled. Brat.

  The microphone screeched and people covered their ears. I recognized most of the faces in the crowd. Locals, reporters, ghost hunters. Todd Ramone and the reporter with the expensive shoes stood on the perimeter. Neither seemed interested in reporting the rally. Instead, they watched the people. Looking for a juicy story, no doubt.

  Adrian fiddled with the microphone. His ready smile quieted the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to thank you all for coming. In light of the recent shootings, we’ve amped up security.” He brushed invisible lint from his Kevlar vest and sucked air. A muffled set of cracks registered in my brain a split second later. Adrian stumbled forward and fell into the microphone stand. Blood poured from his mouth and dripped from his fingertips.

  My heart lurched into my throat a moment before the world stopped spinning. A lifetime of memories with Adrian crowded my scrambled thoughts. This isn’t happening. Adrenaline spiked through my system and my ears rang. Not him. I need him.

  The crowd turned into a stampeding monster, pounding away from the scene, trampling everything in its path. I jumped into the mix, fighting my way upstream, careening around members of the crowd and bouncing off strangers. Arms slapped me and hips knocked me. I lost my footing twice, landing on my hands and knees in piles of dropped food and discarded flyers.

  “Adrian!”

  The area cleared out in seconds. Behind me, Fargas barked orders and distant sirens cut through the rush of voices. I looked over my shoulder for the ambulance. News reporters pushed their way forward, but my folks and Claire held them off with idle threats and determination. Flashing lights appeared in the distance.

  “Adrian.” I flung myself onto him. Blood coated his mouth and neck. “Can you hear me?” My tears dripped onto his cheek and I smoothed them away. “Please, say something. Don’t be dead. You cannot be dead. I need you.” Sobs racked my chest.

  His eyes fluttered and he groaned. “I think I knocked my tooth out. Ow. Oh.” He spouted profanity. I wiped tears and sat back in shock. Air shuddered from my chest. If he could gripe, things weren’t as bad as they seemed. He wrapped a giant palm around his opposite arm. Blood rolled out between his fingertips and poured from his lips. The fallen microphone was painted red with it. The burn and tear marks on his vest proved its worth. It had saved his life.

  “You knocked your tooth loose.” I flopped my legs out in front of me. “I thought...” Tears and laughter strangled me. “When someone gets shot and blood comes from their mouth, it’s not good.” I wiped my eyes and nose on my sleeve. My laughter erupted.

  Fargas looked alarmed but stayed in cop mode, securing the perimeter and calling people to action.

  Adrian rose onto his elbows as the ambulance drove through the littered grass to meet us. Becky, the EMT Adrian had dated a few times, opened the driver’s side door and gave him a exasperated stare.

  “Someone shot me.” He rubbed his bloody palm over the vest. “In the arm.”

  She dropped to his side without speaking and dug into her bag. She checked his vitals, his mouth and his arm before loading him onto the gurney. “Looks like your lucky day.” Becky looked at me. “What happened to you?”

  My white wool coat was spattered in dirt and hunks of food from falling down on my way to Adrian. His blood darkened the cuffs and collar where I’d thrown myself on him.

  I took his hand. Tears stung my eyes. “I’m fine.”

  Becky looked at our joined fingers. “Are you riding with him to the hospital?” Tension laced the words.

  I pulled my hand away. “Oh, um, no. I’ll meet you there.” I gave him my most supportive smile.

  Adrian’s eyes grew round like a kicked puppy.

  I stroked his cheek. “I’ll answer questions here and get a cleanup crew together. Maybe we can put a positive publicity spin on this incident before any rumors get out of hand.”

  Becky wheeled him toward the ambulance. I waited for the taillights to disappear, then I collapsed into a pile of sobs, tears and snot. Who would want to hurt Adrian? He was an overgrown teddy bear. Everyone loved him. I’d thought. Curiosity sat me upright. An assassination attempt in plain sight of two hundred people was nuts. Adrian was running for Mayor of Chincoteague, not President of the United States. What was going on here?

  Claire’s shoes came into view. “You okay?”

  I steadied my breaths and wiped my face. “I thought.” A nervous giggle-sob escaped. I shook off the overwhelming emotion and pulled in a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  “Good. Then try to look less heartbroken and more concerned citizen. Sebastian just got here.”

  I shuffled to my feet.

  Sebastian led the way with two guys from the bureau on his flank, eating up the distance between a big black government-issued SUV and Fargas. Adrian had told me the FBI was coming in to investigate the island shootings. Apparently that wasn’t hearsay.

  Why hadn’t Sebastian mentioned it?

  I took a step on shaky legs and locked stares with Claire. “I need a few minutes.”

  She gave me an understanding nod
and moved toward Sebastian and his men.

  I hobble-jogged across the street for coffee and a breakdown.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I hid across the street, watching the cacophony of chaos settle into a controlled hum. I needed to get to the hospital and let Adrian know I was there. My heart ached as I leaned against the side of our town’s only bookstore. My parents and closest friends stood in the littered field, acting as crowd control against an onslaught of reporters. A thousand questions formed a tempest in my brain. Had the shooter been aiming for Adrian, or did they mistake him for Sebastian? The target wasn’t me or I’d be in the ambulance right now. I wasn’t wearing a bulletproof vest. The wretched week had begun with a double murder in Sebastian’s room. An image of Jimmy the Judge snarling down a gun sight twisted my stomach. Was one of his henchmen out there today?

  Karen Holsten speed-walked toward me, yelling into her cell phone, “I don’t care how it gets done. Just make it happen.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. She shoved the phone into her bright orange designer handbag and screamed at the sky. I pressed my back to the wall and she marched past without making eye contact. What had put her on edge? Karen was normally as cold as a fish. Tears and public screaming were out of line with her usually well-executed facade. Unfortunately, I had more pressing issues, like finding out who was trying to kill the men in my life. My questions about Karen’s kooky behavior had to get in line. For her sake, she better not have had anything to do with someone taking a shot at Adrian. If this was her cockamamie scheme to give her husband a sure win for mayor, I’d find out and she would be punished. Then, I’d call Fargas.

  I took the alley behind me at a snail’s pace. It was a short walk home to get my Prius. Claire would let me borrow her car from the rally if I asked, but I was halfway between the two points, and I didn’t want to go back. My mind and limbs were as weighted as my heart. I pushed my feet forward but slowed at the sight of a makeshift memorial outside Island Comforts. The tokens of affection seemed to sprout overnight. Curiosity pulled me closer. Teddy bears, notes, photos and panties decorated the small fence around Mrs. Moore’s azaleas.