Murder in Real Time

by Julie Anne Lindsey

  Dad was outside the Purple Pony when we carried our breakfasts back across the street.

  “Hello, pretty ladies.” He kissed our cheeks and held the door for us. “Your mother told me you were here. I came out to check. I didn’t see you at first, and I thought she’d lost her touch.”

  “Silly.” Mom cooed from behind the beaded curtain.

  I propped breakfast between my elbows on the counter where Dad stacked and folded shirts. We had forty-five minutes before the store opened. I could get a lot of worrying done in forty-five minutes. My mind zipped back to the slap of fear I’d felt when Claire showed me her palm. Nothing like that had happened in years. I didn’t like it back then and I full-on hated it now. Stupid Halloween. Dumb stress. Nutty psychic mom genes. I forked a mouthful of breakfast and relaxed. Sweet blueberries danced and burst over my tongue with each bite of rich buttery pancakes. I exhaled. How bad could things get when there was a truck called Baby Cakes serving little stacks of heaven right across the street?

  Six hours later, I wished Baby Cakes delivered. I’d read twenty-four palms and assured twenty-four lovely individuals that their loved ones were faithful, safe, “crossed-over” or whatever else they wanted for their twenty-five bucks. Hey, people didn’t pay to hear bad news. Luckily, not a single palm had stunned me the way Claire’s had. It seemed boredom knocked the imagination right out of me. The frightening zip of fear I’d felt earlier was clearly a result of an overactive imagination coupled with the worst holiday of the year for scaredy-cats.

  After a morning filled with palm reading, my vast arsenal of generic, applicable-to-anyone-with-a-heartbeat lines had dried up like the marsh in July. I’d started repeating lines from earlier fortunes and hoped the clientele didn’t compare notes. For the last half an hour, I spouted lame clichés like, “I see romance in your future,” “Looks like someone loves you very much but doesn’t tell you as often as they should,” and my favorite, “You’ll remember this trip always and return to the island soon.” The last one was good for business.

  Mom stood outside the beaded curtain and turned the little sign over. Time for my lunch break. I headed for the kitchenette in the back room and scrubbed a zillion germs off my hands.

  Mom floated over to me. “How are you holding up?”

  “Good.” I checked my watch and smiled. Mom was right. If I’d stayed home, I’d have watched the clock and obsessed over Sebastian’s safety. Instead, the day was already on the downswing. A few more hours at the Purple Pony and the sun would set. Claire and Fargas would leave for the big Halloween bash, and I’d enjoy peace and quiet in my apartment while all the tourists flocked to Adrian’s neighborhood, vying for a peek at an island ghost or semi-celebrity appearance. I had plans for a long soak in mom’s herbal bath salts and a Reese Witherspoon movie marathon.

  If Sebastian didn’t call by midnight, I’d text him for an update.

  Mom rubbed my shoulders. “Claire’s having a great time out there. She’s wonderful with children. They all think she’s a princess.”

  I smiled. “She is.”

  “Your dad went to visit a few food trucks and haul some lunch back for us. He took the wagon.” She meant a literal red wagon. The same Radio Flyer wagon they pulled me around the island in twenty-five years ago now made runs to the farmers’ market and harbor every Tuesday morning. Apparently, it also visited food trucks when a reality show invaded our town.

  “Thanks, Mom.” I patted her hand, and she went back through the beaded curtain to mingle with customers.

  I slipped back into my seat and laid my head on the table. I sent Dad a telepathic plea for chocolate. I didn’t care what form it came in.

  The chair across from me scraped away from the table. Men’s cologne clogged my nose. I lifted my head with zero enthusiasm.

  The mean reporter with too-expensive shoes and stalker tendencies soiled the seat across from me. I nearly swallowed my tongue.

  He smiled. “You look like hell.”

  My heart beat double-time. I composed my thoughts before speaking, squaring my shoulders. Who did this guy think he was? Diving across the table and demanding an explanation of what he was up to crossed my mind. “Come for a palm reading?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good, because I’m terrible at it, and I’m hungry.” The smell of freshly printed T-shirts and patchouli made my empty tummy squirm. I sent another wish for chocolate into the ether.

  Meanie stared. His black beady eyes never blinked. The expressionless look on his face worried me. When Sebastian looked that way, I knew he was formulating a plan, strategizing or reading my mind. Frustration boiled under my skin. I had enough to worry about without this goon darkening my day. “If you don’t want your palm read, and I know you aren’t a real reporter, then what do you want?” I presented a brave face. If he was up to no good, I had a room full of witnesses on the other side of a beaded curtain.

  “Just looking for you.”

  “Yeah? Well, congratulations.”

  He chuckled, a deep throaty sound that made the hairs rise on my arms. He shoved his chair over the floor and stood. “Where’s your guard dog?”

  My thoughts scrambled. Did he mean Sebastian or Adrian? Heck, he could’ve meant Todd. Had he seen Todd following him?

  “Out.” That covered all the possibilities.

  His lips turned down at the corners. “Out where? Chasing leads?” His dark laugh returned, louder this time.

  “You first. What are you doing here?”

  “My job.” He stood and glared down at me. If his job was intimidation, he nailed it. Big promotions were in his future.

  He shook his fat head on the way back through the curtain. I jumped to my feet and peered through the curtain as he slithered out the front door.

  Chasing leads. Was that comment aimed at Todd or Sebastian? News leads or crime leads? What did he mean? I sent a quick text to both Todd and Sebastian, then one to Adrian for good measure. Just checking in.

  Todd responded with two texts. On set. And Vance Varner is a douche.

  I smiled.

  Adrian sent me a picture of his face. Eyes crossed. Lips puckered. Dork.

  Sebastian didn’t respond.

  I paced the floor, ideas swarming in my mind. How could the killer have waited on Rick in the secret passageway if no one knew Rick would be checking in? The room had been rented to Sebastian. Why would a guy with as much experience around cameras as Rick had hook up a camera to record his sexcapades and not pick a unit with night vision, or at least leave the light on? Sure, the camera used motion detector technology like the others The Watchers posted around town, but most cameras had that feature, and a motion detector would come in handy more for long-term surveillance, not one night of hanky-panky.

  I looked at my phone again, hoping I’d missed a return text from Sebastian. Suddenly, from where I sat behind the beaded curtain, all signs pointed more than ever to Jimmy the Judge putting a hit on Sebastian. Sebastian’s room. His Range Rover. Adrian dressed as him. My car. The meanie who watched me and called it his job. My throat went dry.

  Dad burst through the curtain, sending ropes of beads dancing against the walls. “I brought the chocolate you wanted!”

  “Ahh!” I clutched my chest.

  Holy cannoli. Maybe I was psychic.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  By eight the streets were deserted. Even the food trucks had moved closer to the big bash at Adrian’s. The night was cool, quiet and normal, except Fargas picked Claire up in his cruiser, dressed as Superman. Claire wore the ghost hunter costume she’d worn as an extra. I had a feeling that would be her costume for the next several Halloweens.

  I scraped my spoon around the bottom of a chocolate peanut butter ice cream container and groaned. The kitchen was so far away and my blanket was so snuggly w
arm. I paused the DVR, weighing my need for comfort food against the energy required to retrieve a snack. Undecided, I looked to my frozen screen. Reese Witherspoon’s eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She knew what it was like to go home after being away all those years. Whoever wrote the script for Sweet Home Alabama probably came from Chincoteague. Next time I went online, I needed to look that up.

  “Honey, I’m home.” Adrian’s voice carried down the hall from my bedroom. He insisted on using the secret staircase.

  “I thought you were at the party.”

  “I’m going. You can’t rush perfection.” He walked into the living room with a wicked gleam in his eye. “What do you think?”

  His sleek black tuxedo accented every angle of his ridiculously fit body. The bow tie and pocket square were perfectly cut. The ensemble was obviously high quality and custom-tailored for him.

  My traitorous heart skipped a beat. “You look nice.”

  He pivoted on shiny black shoes and adjusted one cufflink. “Bond. James Bond.”

  “Of course.” Adrian earned his 007 nickname from me after helping me stick my nose into multiple crimes that were none of my business.

  He sashayed to the couch and took my empty ice cream container. “I brought you something.”

  “Great.” I swung my feet over the edge of the couch and braced myself.

  Adrian dipped into my bedroom and returned with a small box. “I got you a costume.”

  Stupidly, I opened it. “This isn’t a costume. This is underwear and a big knife.”

  He beamed. “It’s an official replica swimsuit of Honey Ryder, the original Bond girl. It’s perfect because she set the bar for every Bond girl who followed. You get it?”

  I didn’t like the highly applicable analogy to our lives.

  “I’m not going to the party. Not to mention it’s fifty degrees out there.” I fingered the soft white material. “This outfit is super cute. Can I keep it?”

  His eyes twinkled.

  “I’m not role playing with you, so put your dimple away. You can keep the knife.”

  He kept smiling. “Try it on.”

  “No!” I shoved him and he didn’t budge. I licked my lips as the butterflies took off in my tummy. “No, thank you.”

  “Come with me. I know you’re worried about Sebastian and this is sad.” He pointed to the junk food scattered on my coffee table. “Let me take your mind off things for a while. Sebastian will call you later. I promise.” He drew an X over his heart with one finger.

  “You can’t know that. What if he never calls? What if something awful happened already? I texted him hours ago. He never texted back. Something’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” Adrian extended a hand to me. “Come on. Let me make you smile for a while.”

  I smiled. “You rhymed.”

  He lifted one dark brow. “I like to rhyme. I do it all the time.”

  “Dork.”

  Adrian lifted the remote and hit play. “I love this movie.” He backed his rear onto the arm of my couch.

  The actor beside Reese looked wistfully at his soul mate. He told her she could have roots and wings.

  I looked up at Adrian’s clean-shaven face. “You think she makes the right decision in the end?”

  He paused the movie again and looked at me. “Yeah.”

  “Really? I’m never sure.” Her character had her choice of two perfect men. One she’d known all her life, who knew all her awful secrets and loved her anyway. The other man loved her for who she currently was and he openly accepted her past, even if he hadn’t lived it with her.

  Adrian dropped the remote on the table. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m wrong. I never related to either of those guys.”

  I gawked. “One’s a hometown golden boy. The other’s a successful politician.”

  He snorted. “Right?”

  “Yes. Right. You’re both her choices.” My voice rose to a squeak.

  He put his palms up. “Well, then I guess I was right. That lucky girl didn’t have a bad option.”

  I flopped my head against the back cushion. “Never mind. Enjoy your party. Keep an eye on Claire. Fargas might be dressed as Superman, but I still think he’s more Clark Kent than Kryptonian.”

  “Kryptonian? Who’s the dork now?” He checked the door and window locks. “Fine. I’ll go. Keep your phone with you, and I’ll call and check in later.”

  I waved my phone. “Got it.” I hadn’t let the phone out of my sight since texting Sebastian from the Purple Pony earlier. Every time it buzzed, I jumped out of my skin to get it.

  Off-key singing started outside the window behind my couch. I turned on my knees for a look.

  Adrian moved back in the direction of my window. “Carolers on Halloween?”

  “No.”

  “Drunken ghost hunters?”

  I made a crazy face and went to the door. “Yep. Drunken carolers singing ‘I Got You Babe.’” I pulled the door open. “Also known as my parents.”

  “Hey!” Dad adjusted his brown leather vest. Fringe bounced against his oversized turquoise belt buckle. For once, his salt-and-pepper ponytail added to his look. “Guess who we are?”

  Adrian beat me to the answer. “John Smith and Pocahontas.”

  Mom kissed his cheek. She swung uber long, flat-ironed locks over one shoulder. “Silly. We’re Sonny and Cher.” She puckered her lips and made weird eyes at us.

  Adrian hugged her. “I was teasing. You both look amazing. Patience and I are going as Honey Ryder and James Bond.”

  “Dashing.” Mom patted Adrian’s cheek. She gave me a once-over. “Those are pajamas.”

  “I’m not going.”

  Mom laughed. “Yes you are. We’re here to make sure you don’t sit around working yourself into a tizzy until Sebastian calls.”

  I looked to Dad for help. He’d stolen my seat on the couch and restarted my movie.

  “Fine.” Not really, but I needed to get rid of everyone so I could wallow in worry all alone.

  “That’s the spirit.”

  Adrian offered my parents something from the kitchen as if he owned the place. “You forgot your costume,” he called after me.

  “I’m not Honey Ryder.” I sulked down the hallway. Forced to jump through hoops so I could eat ice cream in peace on Halloween. Unfair. Unjust. Crappy karma. This was probably payback for all the unenthusiastic palm readings I’d performed.

  I stared in my closet. Blue sparkles on the nightstand caught my eye and I formed a brilliant plan. I pulled on the shiny little Band-Aid dress from my extremely awful makeover and smiled. If Adrian could dress as Sebastian for his political rally, I could dress as his mother for the Halloween party—which I wasn’t attending, but he didn’t know that. I swapped the awkward stilettos for knee-high white boots and sucked in my gut.

  In the bathroom, I piled on the makeup and teased my hair until it screamed. A bottle of aerosol hairspray and two giant rhinestone-tipped eyelashes later, and voilà! Mrs. Davis.

  “Ready!” I struck a pose in the doorway to my living room.

  Adrian blanched. “You hate that outfit.”

  “Yes, but it’s Halloween, so I’m going as your mother.”

  “Ew.”

  “Come here and give Mama a big kiss.” I strutted to his side and wrapped my hand around his chin to squeeze his cheeks.

  Adrian jerked his face away and grimaced. “Ah, jeez. Why’d you have to do that? You’ve ruined me. I’ll never feel like a man again.” He shivered and stuck his tongue out in a gag. “I’m leaving.”

  “You can’t leave.” I grabbed his hand and heavy fingers curled over mine on contact.

  He turned a hopeful face to me. “What?”

  I suppressed a smile and did my best Mrs
. Davis impression. “Where you going with my kiss? You’re my widdle angel baby boy.” I puckered my lips and closed my eyes.

  Adrian huffed. I peeked with one eye. He looked torn between leaving and chasing me across the room with something heavy. I smiled and shut my eyes again.

  Footfalls padded against the carpet before his soft lips pressed mine. Adrian’s signature scent of shampoo and mint enveloped me. Hot, familiar palms encircled my arms. My head tilted back to accommodate our height difference. The chaste press of our lips lasted a few beats too long. Not a quick peck on the head or cheek. There was definite lingering.

  I pulled my chin back and sucked air. “Oh my goodness.” My chest heaved with pent-up emotion.

  My parents were gone. Vanished. Poof. How fast were they? I turned at the waist, confirming we stood alone in my living room.

  “Patience.” Shame and guilt marred Adrian’s perfect face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...I mean, I thought...I didn’t think you’d...” He pressed hands to his hips and crunched his eyebrows. “You were supposed to push me away. Now look what you did.”

  My breathing slowed as I gathered my thoughts and processed his expression. “What?” Anger scorched my skin. “Look what I did? That wasn’t my fault! You kissed me!”

  He pursed his lips. “You lingered.”

  Ah! He thought so too. I touched my lips with both sets of fingertips. “Did not.”

  “Did too, and now I’m a colossal asshat who kissed another man’s girlfriend. Dammit, Patience.” Agitated fingers scraped through his hair and ruined the sleek look. He gave me a long sideways glare before producing his phone and touching the screen.

  “Stop.” I jumped in his direction. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m texting Sebastian. If I don’t tell him, you will, and I’ll look even worse. I didn’t mean for that to happen. I respect Sebastian. And you.” He swore some more while I jumped around trying to liberate his phone.

  “You can’t tell him.”

  His eyes were wild with emotion. “I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t do shit like this. Jeez, now I’m swearing. You make me crazy.”