by CeCe Osgood
A sinister chuckle floated out of her. "He treated me like a princess. When he found out I taught tennis, he told me he knew a teenager who needed a coach."
Abby sucked in air, pleading with herself not to react. But the idea of this psycho being near Jill nauseated her.
Rita sipped her cocktail. "Alan liked sneaking around. So did I. Makes it exciting."
Abby said, "Bell didn't know about you but you knew about her, and me, and that made you jealous."
A laugh slithered out of Rita. "Me? Jealous? No, you idiot. He was jealous. He was obsessed with me."
Abby doubted that. Alan might have liked sneaking around and having a harem but being obsessed with any woman ... that didn't sound like him. "Then why did you kill him?"
Rita's dark eyes glimmered with malice. "Because I got bored."
Abby guessed it was the opposite. Alan had gotten bored with Rita, and wanted to break it off with her, especially when he realized how unstable she was.
A sudden image came to her. The collage in Bell's living room. Bell in the blue and white cheerleader uniform, her high school's colors.
Blue and white. "The wreath at the funeral came from you. The blue hydrangeas and white roses. Those were your school colors."
Rita's face hardened. "Right again, Abby. Saw you at the funeral."
"You were there?"
"Gray wig, glasses, black coat. I took a seat near the gay couple, Jeff and the other guy: Alan's neighbors. I was thirty feet away from you, and you never suspected a thing."
A smug smile. "But then again, neither did Hilda when I dropped by your shop."
Abby inhaled sharply. In an instant she knew what had happened. "You set the fire."
Rita lifted her shoulders in a "so what" expression. "I found that envelope in Alan's car. It had your return address on it, so I steamed it open, saw your check, and that's when I knew Fate was urging me on. I put the check back inside and resealed the envelope."
Abby flashed on the day she'd ripped it open. It had felt different. Rita had steamed it open then probably used a little too much adhesive to reseal it. That was why it felt different.
"The day after the fire," Rita continued," I stuck the envelope under Alan's car seat, with the corner sticking out so the moron would see it.".
Rita cackled again. "I'm guessing you're wondering why I did it, huh?”
"Yes."
"Don't be a dud, Abby. Everyone knows adversity makes you a stronger person. You've heard that saying. What doesn't kill you..." A sneer. "Funny. Right now, I don't remember the rest of it."
She leaned her head against the chair's back, her tone flippant again. "To tell you the truth, it was fun. I went into your shop wearing my senior citizen's gray wig, glasses and a ratty old scarf. I ordered two Cloud Tens, and when Hilda was busy with another customer, I swiped a couple of the pink boxes. That was actually when I made my final decision."
"To kill Alan?"
"Oh, I'd already decided on that. No, to see your shop go up in flames." Rita sniggered. "Who knew flour and grease could be so explosive."
Abby clenched her fists, holding back the temptation to leap off the couch and... what? Get myself killed?
Rita jerked the racquet up threatening her. "Settle down."
Abby stilled, only half listening to the lunatic. Was there anything she could grab for a weapon?
"That's a good girl. The throat is the most vulnerable part of the human body. One little jab in the right spot ... and buh-bye."
Rita watched her for a long moment then continued her boasting. "During the reunion, Bimbo Bell left her purse on the table, so it was easy for me to swipe her credit card. That's when I nicked the purple lipstick too."
"I wore it a few times when I was with Alan. When I decided to get rid of him, I figured Bell would be the main suspect. I left a wineglass with her prints in Alan's kitchen. But then you showed up and found his body, and the moronic cops suspected you instead of her."
"That's why you planted the vial of amatoxin in her back yard. You wanted the focus back on Bell."
Her head swiveled to the dog in his cage. "Ace screwed that up. When I parked in the alley, he got out and went after that kitten, then you showed up and he ran off. By the time I found him, it was dark.
"I drove back to Bell's, parked in the alley but when I was sneaking into the yard, I tripped and lost the stupid vial."
Rita swigged down the rest of her cocktail.
Abby's heart pounded. Stall, stall. "You offered me a drink, Rita."
Rita clucked her tongue. "Correct. I did offer you a drink. In fact, I believe I offered you"—she let out a malicious chuckle—"something to eat. Perhaps, you'd like dessert."
Abby stiffened.
Rita stood up, started to pace in front of Abby. "The Cloud Ten was Alan's favorite. All I did was add a drop or two of my extra special ingredient to it and put it in a clean box"—she wiggled her eyebrows proudly—"clean meaning no fingerprints, and then I showed up at his house, begging him to 'let bygones be bygones' and offering him the Cloud Ten as a peace offering."
"He had eaten a third of it before he noticed I was just sitting there, watching him."
She perched on the arm of the chair she'd been sitting in. "He started to react, coughing, clutching his throat, trying to form words. 911. Ambu...ambu...lance."
Rita glimpsed movement and turned to see the dog sneaking out of his crate. "Ace. You want the belt? Get back in the crate."
Ace whimpered but didn't move.
Rita's temper blitzed. "Get the hell back in there!"
Abby flinched. She didn't have Rita's strength or a metal tennis racquet to use as a weapon, but she knew she had to do something. There wasn't much time. She was certain this psycho would soon kill her.
A sudden storm of words flooded through her mind. Words from the velvety black book. She caught a few of them. In ... grasp of harm ... East Wind ... quell your alarm.
The words looped back and forth until only two stood out. East Wind. East Wind.
She silently chanted them, and the swirling panic inside of her began to subside, displaced by a pulsating energy sparking through her body. It was like she was on fire. "A cold fire," she mumbled.
Rita scowled. "What?"
The palm of her right hand started to itch like it had been stung by an entire bee hive. The pain was so intense she cried out as she opened her palm.
In the center, an orb of blue light beams dancing, spinning, growing larger.
Suddenly she knew exactly what to do. Her palm jerked up, and her forefinger twitched, shooting out a searing flash of blue light that struck Rita on the chin.
Before she could even scream, Rita fell off the arm of the chair, hit the floor and was out cold.
Ace bolted toward Abby but halted when her hand aimed in his direction; a splinter of blue light warning Ace to stay back or else.
The cops arrived three minutes after her 911 call. Stammering, blinking rapidly and obviously distressed, Abby pointed to the den where the officers found Rita still out cold on the floor.
Minutes later, as the EMS techs shuffled the gurney with a now stirring Rita out to their vehicle, Guthrie and Ross showed up.
Abby told them what had happened, leaving out the bizarro details: her palm itching like it had been stung by bees, then the blue beams of light shooting out to topple Rita.
It couldn't have happened like that. It was impossible. She told herself she must've hallucinated to compensate for the horror of her situation. That sounded rational, because, well, who really knew what the mind could do when faced with a psycho.
Guthrie peered directly into her eyes. "She lunged at you?".
Abby nodded. "I guess she m-miscalculated and tripped and fell. That's how she hit her head on the floor."
"Must've hit damn hard," he said.
"Yeah." Abby nodded again for emphasis.
Ross kneeled down to inspect the crate and the dozing dog inside. "This mongrel didn't
wake up during the commotion?"
Abby shrugged. "I guess not."
She wasn't sure why Ace had fallen asleep. She'd pointed her finger, and he skittered back to the crate and dozed off.
"Um, detectives?"
The voice came from the uniformed cop who had just returned from searching the house. "You need to see what I found out there."
The cop gestured down the hall. The men entered the room. Abby tagged along behind him.
On a table stood a large terrarium filled with fruiting fungus. Abby gasped. "The mushrooms."
Chapter Twenty-four
Three days later, Abby sat at the dining table engrossed in reading an online report of Rita's confession.
Rita had committed another murder years ago in Kansas City. She'd had a secret fling with a married man. When he told her it was over, she shoved him off a five-story building. It had been ruled an accident until she'd been charged with poisoning Alan and confessed to his and the previous murder.
Abby shook her head. "Sicko."
Clicking off the site, Abby checked her email. Not one response to the job applications she'd submitted online. "Not even an interview. What is going on? Why am I so unlucky?"
She heard her daughter's thudding footfalls on the stairs. "Momma, you need to answer your phone."
Abby glanced at the cell lying next to the laptop. There was no call coming in. "It didn't ring, Jill."
The cell immediately jangled. Jill said, "It's her."
"Her who?" Abby shot the kid an annoyed look. This mind-reading business had to stop.
"You better get it."
"Okay, bossy." It seemed like her shy kid had turned into a mouthy teenager overnight. Abby tapped the speaker button. "Hello?"
Her forehead creased when she heard a soft-spoken female voice. "And hello to you. I'm calling for Abigail Phoebe Little."
"That's me. Who's this?"
"You're speaking with Selene Adamas."
A shiver raced down her forearms when she heard the stranger's name. She had no idea why.
"Please let me be the first to congratulate you, Abby Little."
Abby frowned. Sounded like a sales pitch. "For what?" she bit back.
"You've won the grand prize."
"Excuse me?"
"Your contest entry, Ms. Little. You won the grand prize."
With a touch of snark, Abby said, "And what is this grand prize?"
"A lovely cottage with two bedrooms and one bath."
Her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Excuse me? I won a house?"
Jill waving her fingers caught her mother's attention and whispered, "I entered your name in a contest online."
Abby frowned, held the phone away from her mouth. "You did what?"
"Twila told me about it." Jill bugged out her eyes and tipped her head at the phone, indicating the woman on the phone was still talking.
Abby spoke into the phone. "I'm sorry. Could you repeat that?"
"There is one stipulation you must agree to. It was noted on the entry form."
Abby sniffed. Yeah, there was always a catch. "And that stipulation is what exactly?"
"You must reside in the cottage for a full year. It will not legally be yours until you fulfill the stipulation. After a year, you may, if you wish, sell or lease the cottage."
Abby, still stunned, wasn't sure what to say.
The woman pressed on. "An email has been sent to the address listed on the entry form. It explains exactly what steps you must take. Do you have any other questions?"
Jill leaned in closer to the phone. "No."
"Then please execute the formalities as I have stated in the email. The cottage is furnished and fully stocked with everything a household needs. However, you should, of course, bring your own personal items. If you prefer to replace the cottage's furniture with your own, do let me know in advance. Also, please let me know the date and time, approximate time, of your arrival. I will be at the cottage to welcome you."
Abby was too stunned to ask more questions. Jill quickly said goodbye, and the call ended.
With a gulp, Jill started her explanation. "Remember when Twila moved in next door?"
Abby croaked out, "I remember."
"I was riding my bike, and she called me over and offered to pay me if I helped her unpack some things."
Abby gestured for her to go on.
"I liked her suitcases, and she told she'd won them, along with other things online. She showed me a website and told me to enter a particular contest because she had a strong feeling I was lucky."
Abby made a face. "She had a feeling?"
"A strong feeling. I shrugged it off, but later that day I checked out the website. That was the night you had Hilda come over to celebrate her birthday."
Hilda had been feeling blue that day, so Abby insisted on having her over for dinner. They had ended up having a festive celebration, and a couple rotten hangovers the next day.
Jill talked faster. "Anyway, that was the night I got you to sign the entry form. You were fine with it." She choked out a nervous laugh. "You even gave me your credit card for the entry fee."
Abby stared at her daughter in disbelief. "Because I was plastered on strawberry daiquiris."
Jill shrugged and pried the cell phone out of her mother's hand to search for the website. "The cottage was donated as a grand prize to help raise money for a health clinic." She held out the phone. "Look, this is your prize."
Abby stared at the honey-stone cottage with its flowery walkway, arched entrance door and vine-covered front porch. Her heart lifted with joy. It was love at first sight.
"Admit it, Momma. You love it."
Abby did love it ... until she saw where it was located.
"Oregon! Jill, we can't move to Oregon. No, no, no." She read the description. "Moon Water, Oregon. Population two thousand, three hundred and five. I'll never find a job in such a small town."
"Yes, you will." Jill said cheerily before turning more serious. "We have to do it, Momma."
"But what if the schools are bad?"
Jill pursed her mouth. "Nope. I checked. Good schools."
Leave it to Jillian to suss out details when she wanted something.
Abby had a feeling—yes, a strong feeling—her daughter hadn't told her everything. Their eyes met. Abby's brows flew up to her forehead.
Jill caved. "Okay, there is something else. There's an equestrian club at the high school. I believe that if I work hard and put my whole heart into it, I might, maybe, be able to qualify for the Grand West National. I know it sounds far-fetched, but it's not. Three people from this high school have done it over the past decade."
Her chin lifted in defiance. "You told me Grandfather Burt had a dream—to open his shop—and he did it. He made his dream come true. This is my dream. Don't I have to go for it, Momma?"
The force of Jill's desire and ambition sent a shiver through Abby, and she felt her resistance fading. No way would she ever bulldoze her child's dream. Jill might fail, but never trying would always be the biggest regret.
She nudged her daughter's shoulder. "Jill's grand adventure."
"Our grand adventure." Jill gazed at the image of the cottage. "Looks right out of a fairytale."
Abby nodded. "It does." She peered closer. Below the onscreen picture was a caption she hadn't noticed. The address. 777 Curiosity Lane.
Her father had always called her curiosity a remarkable trait even though it drove him crazy.
And she'd said pretty much the same thing about Jill.
A bubble of delight tickled up at the idea of living in a cozy cottage on Curiosity Lane.
Epilogue
"Are we there yet?" Jill shifted in the passenger seat, gave her mother a teasing look.
Abby groaned. The mountainous terrain had her white-knuckling the steering wheel. She'd been fine with the six-lane highway, but now they were cruising up a two-lane road surrounded by a forest of Douglas firs, pines, and other evergreen
s.
While Jill dozed again, Abby replayed the last few days in Martindale. With Twila's help, she'd sold or donated most of her furniture and household items, and ground shipped a few items, like Jill's bike, the TVs, their clothes and photo albums.
Twila had also mapped out the driving route. "When you have to pack and get on the road as often as I do," she said, "you make it happen like"—she snapped her fingers—"magic."
The only true obstacle was Charles, but since he was moving to Florida, he couldn't object that much. Jill consoled him by promising to come for two months every summer and spend the entire upcoming Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays with him.
When Charles showed up at the house to say goodbye, Abby surprised him, and herself, with an embrace of genuine warmth. Those endless terrifying minutes with Rita had vaporized the bitterness she'd been holding onto.
She'd always have a bond with him since they shared a daughter, and a history, but it was time to move on to their separate paths.
She'd even walked up to Larissa, and, for the first time ever, allowed a softness in her voice when she wished them well in Tallahassee.
Shortly after Charles and Larissa drove away, Fran and Kendra dropped by. "Where are the books?" Kendra said to Jill. "The ones you want me to return to the library."
Jill pointed to the front steps. "In that box."
The mention of books triggered Abby's memory of the velvety black book, the tick tock book, and, for the first time since her near demise at the hands of Rita, she recalled fragments of the phrase she'd chanted just before Rita fell and hit her head.
The phrase, something about the East Wind, had come from that book.
"Um, hold on, Kendra. Let me look through that first," she said, hurrying to the steps.
It wasn't in the box. She searched through it twice and didn't find it, and Jill had no idea what she was talking about when she asked her where the velvety black book might be.