by Gina LaManna
"I didn't kill her. At least…she's not dead yet. Unlike Anthony. All it took for that man was a tiny bit of seduction, and he was all mine…" Sarah winced as Donna prodded her with the tip of the BB gun.
I stood up and jabbed a foot into Sarah's back. "Where is she?"
"I'm not saying. She'll be dead soon anyway. And I have full confidence you'll find her in the very near future," Sarah said.
"Where is she?" I jabbed my foot again.
Sarah frowned but didn't break down. "It was a shame, really. All that effort to break into your house, and I barely got to use the stocking. In fact, Mrs. Jenkins had a lot more fight left in her than Anthony."
My stomach churned at how easily Sarah could describe killing people. Her voice didn't waver. Her eyes didn't flicker with regret—there was simply nothing. She could've been describing the chemical makeup of a rock, and her tone would've been fitting.
"You're gonna be spending your life in prison," a voice said from behind the garage. "So you might as well do it with two eyes. You have three seconds to tell us where Mrs. Jenkins is being held, or else I'm turning around while Donna carries out her promise to aim for your eyeballs," Jax said, his voice flat.
I turned and made eye contact with Jax, who must have been hiding behind the garage. He emerged from the side walkway, holding a gun out in front of him, a mask of stone covering his features.
"Jax," Sarah said. "These women—"
"Don't start. I've heard everything."
"Everything?" I asked, wincing a bit, remembering the bits about me sticking up for Jax, defending him, all the lovey-dovey stuff. I couldn't remember all of what had been said aloud, and what I'd kept to myself. The moment was already a blur of emotions, nerves, and adrenaline.
"Everything. There's time to discuss that later." Jax's tone was final. He held the gun close to his former lover's head. "Right now I'm waiting to hear where you've left Mrs. Jenkins."
Sarah's mouth remained shut. "Jax, you wouldn't."
"Donna, I'm turning around now. I encourage you to not shoot Sarah in the face, but if you miss her thigh, there's not much I can do about it." Jax nodded at me. "You're a witness, right? You'll back me up that Donna's aim is terrible, and she accidentally shot Sarah in the eyeball in self-defense?"
I nodded. "Donna's life was definitely in danger. It's completely self-defense."
"I've been waiting for action like this forever." Donna lifted the gun, her finger on the trigger, balancing sights and taking aim.
"Wait. Fine." Sarah squinted. "The studio. She's in your studio."
"My studio?" I asked. "Seriously, haven't you done enough to it?"
"She's done enough forever," Jax said. Speaking to the back of the garage, Jax continued. "Guys…bring her in. I'm headed over to the studio to get Mrs. Jenkins."
"I'm coming too," I said, glancing around to see how many other cops had been waiting out back.
"Me too." Donna let the BB gun fall to her side.
"No, Donna, you've seen enough. You've helped more than I could've asked for. Just go home to your kids. I'll let you know what we find," I said.
Donna looked as if she were about to refuse flat out, but she glanced down at the BB gun and paused. "Alec was coughing…I should probably see how he's doing."
"Go. Thank you for everything. Go to your kids." I gave Donna a hug. "You've saved my life enough times today—I promise. There'll be plenty more opportunities for life-saving later."
"The kids are with the neighbor now. She was more than happy to help out," Nathan added. "Don't worry, you've got a bit of time."
"It was my pleasure. Plus, I really wanted a steak. You owe me one." Donna smiled, kissed me on one cheek, and then moved over to where her husband held down Sarah.
Nathan kissed his wife on the cheek. "You know, babe, all you gotta do is ask next time you want me to barbecue. I'll make you a steak so you can avoid this whole Batman, superhero sort of thing."
"I want to get fancy and go out," Donna said. "Get some drinks. Can you make that happen?"
"Done," Nathan said.
"Get in line, buddy. I got a date with your wife first." I smiled.
Nathan sighed. "I'll never win."
"Let's go." Jax reached out and pulled me away, dragging me into his squad car.
We passed Donna jumping into her mom van and heading home and Sarah being loaded into a different squad car. We were halfway across town before Jax spoke.
"What was all that love of your life talk?" Jax asked suddenly.
"That was Sarah speaking," I said. "She's the one who said you were the love of my life."
"Was she right?"
"About which part?" I hedged.
"Do I ask for commitment too fast?" Jax refused to glance at me, staring straight through his front window.
"No." I looked over, sliding my hand onto his and giving it a light squeeze. "You don't. I made a mistake. And Sarah was a psycho. I should've known, since she had crazy eyes. Why do you go for girls with crazy eyes?"
"The ones with the crazy eyes are best in bed," he said, a small smile quirking up the sides of his lips for the first time in a while.
"Oh, thanks." I rolled my eyes. "I must have bored you, then. I definitely don't have crazy eyes."
"What do you mean?" Jax winked. "Sweetheart, you were the best I ever had." Jax gave a half smirk, his gaze still focused on the road, hands on the wheel.
I glanced at Jax, partially flattered and mostly flustered. Before I could comment, we'd reached my studio.
"This is to be continued," I said.
Jax got out of the car and headed toward the entrance. I scurried behind him, mostly afraid of what I would find inside my studio. Hopefully the last gruesome surprise for a long, long time.
"You don't have to come in." Jax turned to me, one hand on the door of the studio, one hand clasped around my wrist. His eyes were downcast.
"I'm coming with you." I waited until he raised his eyes to meet mine.
When he finally met my gaze, his eyes were wary. "I'm sorry. I should've known that Sarah was…that she wasn't…"
"It's not your fault. She fooled all of us. You can't feel bad about it," I said, reaching out and resting a hand on his shoulder.
"There were signs…but I just—I didn't want it to be true. With you back in town…" He looked over his shoulder toward the studio door. "I had to keep my mind off of you. I thought dating someone else would do the trick."
I waited, sensing he wasn't done.
"It didn't work, and it made me blind to the things I should have been noticing from the start. It was all a mistake."
"It's okay, Jax." I put my hand on his chest. "Let's talk more about this later. We have to see if Mrs. Jenkins is alive."
He nodded. "You've seen enough. You don't have to come in here."
"I want to," I said with a deep breath.
Jax pushed open the door to the studio, and I stepped through behind him, my breath lodged somewhere in my throat.
All was silent in the studio. There were no words scrawled across the mirror in red, no blood splattered on the floor. In fact, it looked just as clean as when I'd left it after my last class.
"Was she lying?" I whispered. "What if she's not here?"
"I don't see why she would." Jax walked around. "What does she have to gain from lying? She thought Mrs. Jenkins would already be dead by the time we got here, so it wouldn't have made a difference."
I paused. "It makes sense that Mrs. Jenkins would be here. Sarah was trying to pin her murder on me, so it's a logical choice, really."
"But where?" Jax asked.
There was one spare feather floating across the floor. I moved toward it, doubting that Sarah was telling the truth. There was no sign of a struggle anywhere. With the amount of blood in Mrs. Jenkins's house, how could Sarah have dragged a still-alive, possibly struggling Mrs. Jenkins through here with no sign of anything wrong?
Another feather drifted across the floor. It m
ust have been coming from the costume closet. My head jerked toward it. The costume closet!
I hustled back, Jax calling after me as I yanked the door open. Where normally feather boas and sequins prevailed, today, amid the sparkles and men's button-up shirts, sat a bound and gagged figure.
"Mrs. Jenkins!" I said.
She mumbled a response through the feather boa stuffed in her mouth.
"Here, Jax," I said, struggling to free the woman from her bindings.
Jax was by my side by the time I removed the gag from her mouth, and within two seconds, he had removed a knife and slashed through the rope around her wrists and her hands.
"You're alive," I said. "Thank God."
"Of course I'm alive," Mrs. Jenkins growled. "How else would the little bitch get my money?"
"What?" I looked at Jax.
He shot a puzzled gaze back at me.
"I thought y'all would've figured it out by now." Mrs. Jenkins massaged her wrists as Jax helped her to her feet outside of the closet. "Y'all are slower than I thought."
"Did Sarah bring you here?" I asked.
"Very good, Sherlock." Mrs. Jenkins rolled her head in a slow circle. "Really cricked my neck being tied up in there."
"But are you hurt? What about the blood?" I scanned Mrs. Jenkins for signs of bullet holes or other injuries that released lots of blood. However, with the exception of the crick in her neck and a rather grumpy disposition, Mrs. Jenkins appeared to be unscathed.
"What blood?" she asked. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm no use to the girl dead."
At our blank gazes, she continued, cackling the whole while. "Oh, come on. Sarah would never find the money if she killed me."
"The inheritance?" I asked.
She nodded. "Anthony and I had a less-than-perfect marriage, sure. He cheated on me, stayed out a little too late, but the old coot loved me."
I tried my best not to let my face show surprise.
Mrs. Jenkins shifted. "And I loved him, too.. Well, I hated him. It was complicated. He wasn't ever gonna leave me. And when he got that money, we thought maybe we could make things work again. Take some time off. Rekindle the ol' spark."
She leaned forward and winked. "You saw that ol' photo when you was in my place. I was a looker back in the day. I just had to make him remember that so he didn't go chasing some younger tail."
"He shouldn't have cheated on you," I said. "You're…you're not old tail."
Mrs. Jenkins shook her finger. "You won't ever understand. He wasn't perfect, but he loved me. I promise you that. And we was gonna use the money for our second honeymoon. But when he told that girl about it, she got jealous and killed him straight off. Tried to pin it on you—I haven't figured that one out, except for maybe you was convenient—"
"She's hated me since we were five," I added.
Jax gave me a look.
I shrugged. "It's true! She stole my tooth."
Mrs. Jenkins nodded. "She was just a bad apple."
"I wonder what all that blood was about," I said. "It looked like a massacre happened in your place."
"Probably wasn't even blood," she said. "Anthony had a bottle of that fake junk in his closet. The stuff for Halloween costumes. He needed it for something, not sure what."
I looked at Jax. "Wouldn't the crime scene guys have figured that out already?"
"They may have. I haven't talked with them since I left to arrest you."
"The costumes," I said, realization kicking in. "Wow. We thought you were dead."
"Well, I ain't. I'm alive and kicking, and I'm gonna go on home now," she said. "Use some of that money for a massage."
"Uh, Mrs. Jenkins, we're going to have to take you in for a statement," Jax said.
"How about this as a statement?" She held up her hand with one finger—the middle one—pointing straight to the heavens. "Pass that along to the girl, why don't ya?"
"Hm," Jax said, hiding a smile. "Well, I can't exactly write that on the record, so I'm sorry, but you'll have to come down to the station with us. I'll tell you what—we'll take you down there, treat you real nice, and get you a cup of coffee, and in the meantime send a crew over to clean up your place. It's a real mess in there."
"If you add some Bailey's and vodka to the coffee, you've got a deal," Mrs. Jenkins huffed. "And I don't need a cleaning crew. I'm getting myself a new place, right in the city center. I got plenty of money now."
"That's great!" I said.
As Mrs. Jenkins and Jax swiveled their heads to look at me, I realized how my excitement could potentially come off the wrong way. "I mean…I'm glad you'll be able to afford a new place, but it's terrible the price at which it came."
Jax gave a slight shake of his head in disbelief. Mrs. Jenkins continued to stare, until Jax prodded her, saying, "You've got a deal with the coffee and vodka. Let's get this over with."
The two began to walk toward the door, leaving me to shut the costume closet and glance around at my studio once more. It wasn't the horrific scene I'd pictured, thankfully. Mrs. Jenkins was alive. Jax was safe, despite his psychotic girlfriend, and my studio remained intact. Only Sarah hadn't fared so well. But I wasn't all too sad about that.
"Do you need a ride home?" Jax asked from the doorway.
"No, I'm going to stay here for a bit. Clean up, get some stuff done." I shrugged. "Go ahead. I'll find my way home later."
"I'll see you in class on Monday," Mrs. Jenkins said. "These hips aren't getting any younger. I gotta keep 'em nice and loose."
She did a little sashay with her hips, and Jax's eyes widened to the size of golf balls before he hightailed it out of the room, not appearing to care whether or not Mrs. Jenkins followed him anymore.
"See you," I said, with a small wave. I couldn't help the grin playing across my lips. Maybe there was time for things to turn around in Little Lake. Maybe all hope wasn't lost yet.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"All right, now toss your shirt forward. Be a tease. If you're dancing for someone else, get your partner involved." I demonstrated by flicking my wrist and letting the oversized men's shirt fly from my fingers into the front row of my students.
A classroom full of students followed suit, and I smiled amid sixteen shirts flying toward the mirror at the front of the studio.
After Mrs. Jenkins had given her statement, Sarah had been booked at the jailhouse, and I had been relieved of all charges against me (they let the whole breaking out of jail thing slip since I'd been an integral part in capturing Sarah). Life in Little Lake had improved.
In fact, Mrs. Jenkins had showed up with a pile of cash in hand (she didn't believe in banks or checks, apparently) as a donation to the burlesque fund of Little Lake. I told her no such thing existed, but she insisted on donating the money anyway.
"This town could use a little sexiness," she said. "Plus, without you I'd still be locked up in that closet spitting up feathers. Take it."
I nearly toppled beneath the weight of the sack containing the money. "I can't possibly take this. Buy yourself a new house. Go on a trip. You deserve it."
"I'm doing both. This is only a tenth of the money I got in the inheritance."
My mind was boggled. "Was Anthony descended from royalty?"
"Something like that. I didn't really pay attention." Mrs. Jenkins shrugged. "I didn't marry him for his money. He had a huge…"
"Okay, okay, thank you." I accepted the money and grimaced.
"…had a huge heart," she finished, a sly grin on her face.
"Are you sure you don't want to use the money for anything else?" I asked, feeling uncomfortable accepting it.
"Consider it a donation in my honor. All I want is a lifetime of free classes," she said.
"Wow. Of course. I'm…I'm speechless. Thank you," I said, my voice cracking.
"You've got guts, girl. You deserve it. I'm sure you'll use it wisely." Mrs. Jenkins nodded.
I was incredibly touched by Mrs. Jenkins's gesture, and I told her so.<
br />
"Stop being sentimental, or I'm taking it all back. Stick with sexy," she said.
"Got it." I smiled. "See you in class on Monday?"
"Course," she growled, leaving the studio without a backward glance. "And don't tell anyone where you got the money from."
With the money, I'd been able to clean up the studio, pay off some debts, and even get a working business phone line. My personal line, I was happy to announce, had been ringing off the hook about classes. I'd been able to put up some advertisements around town, and the classes had even been announced in the church bulletin, to my surprise.
Donna brought the bulletin to me after Mass on Sunday, shoving it in my hands and whispering in my ear. "Tell me you did not threaten Father Olaf again to get this advertisement."
"No! What are you talking about?" I glanced down at the bulletin. "I didn't threaten him, but that's awesome."
Donna leaned over and whispered, "Maybe he felt bad. I heard he and Alfie got a little talking to at the station over the weekend. Alfie got a slap on the wrist and a bit of desk duty."
Somehow, over the weekend word had spread, the chatter around town enticing students to check out my studio. And now, in my Monday class, I had all sorts of folks dancing to all sorts of songs. The signups had increased exponentially, and I'd even had to open two more classes. One intermediate and a second beginner, in order to accommodate the demand.
"Great class today," I said, scanning the crowd. Nosy Barbara Jones was back, along with the rest of my initial beginner's class, minus Sarah. Mrs. Jenkins was rocking a cutoff-jean miniskirt with a flimsy little sports bra.
"I'll see you all next week! Practice on a partner or practice alone. Whatever you do, have fun with it!"
My class filed out of the room, the light chatter music to my ears, the shiny faces of happy students warming my heart.
As soon as the last student was gone, I set to sweeping up the layer of feathers coating the floor. I hummed a little ditty, shaking my booty a bit as I did so. Life was good right now. Life was more than good.
"Nice moves," a voice rumbled from the doorway.
I spun around to see Jax leaning against the doorframe. But this time, I smiled at the sight of him. "Thinking of joining my class?"