Killer Campaign (Lisa Chance Cozy Mysteries Book 3)

by Estelle Richards

  They dug into the food. The cheeseburger was thick and juicy. Lisa grabbed a pair of onion rings out of the shared basket, knowing she might not get another chance at the crispy battered rings.

  “Are the pills helping?” she said with her mouth full.

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” Carly said with a shrug. She took an onion ring. “I don’t know how much is the pills and how much is getting a little more sleep.”

  “Sleep is good,” Lisa said before slurping down some milkshake.

  “It’s funny. Did you know that when people talk about a baby sleeping through the night,” Carly made air quotes around that, “they only mean, like, six hours at a stretch? Six hours!”

  “I thought babies needed a ton of sleep. To grow and stuff,” Lisa said.

  “Tell that to Liam. He thinks the sun going down means it’s time to party.”

  Liam yawned and blew a spit bubble.

  “That’s right, lean on the cuteness,” Carly said. “But the doctor talked to Gideon and told him to make sure I get more sleep. We’ve worked out a system.”

  “Really?”

  “He takes Liam from 6pm to midnight while I sleep. Anything Liam needs, it’s on Gideon. After that, he goes to bed and if the baby cries I get up with him.” Carly’s smile had an edge of mania in it. “Six whole hours by myself. In bed. Have you ever heard of anything so wonderful?”

  Lisa ate a mouthful of fries and gave a thumbs-up.

  “How about the maternity leave? How’s that going?” Lisa said.

  “Ok, I guess. Taylor—that is Miss Hall—seems to be making her way with the class.”

  “Hall? Is she related to Billy Jack Hall?” Lisa said.

  “Yeah, I think she’s his niece or something. Why?”

  “So she’s related to the dead guy, too.” Lisa’s conscience gave a twinge, reminding her she wasn’t supposed to discuss the case. But Toby couldn’t really expect her not to talk to her best friend, could he?

  “What dead guy?” Carly said, wagging a French fry at Lisa. “I don’t get out much. I need the info. Who died?”

  “Dan Weston. My mom actually found his body.”

  Carly goggled at her. “Dan Weston? He’s Taylor’s fiancé. And he died?”

  “Her fiancé? But they’re related.”

  “Only third cousins or something like that. What happened to him?” Carly took a big bite of cheeseburger and chewed intently.

  “He was stabbed. In the back. In the house over in Peterman’s development where they had that illegal gambling going on.”

  “Stabbed in the back? That’s politics for you.” Carly drank her milkshake and shook her head. “Poor Taylor. She must be devastated. Oh no, I hope this doesn’t mean a sub for my sub. Am I a horrible person for even thinking of that?”

  “You just care about your class and their education,” Lisa said.

  “Wait, your mother found him? That’s awful.”

  Lisa nodded. “You are so very out of the gossip loop.”

  “Fill me in. What else is going on?”

  “You know about the main stuff? Like the mayor being removed and my mother running for office?” Lisa ate a fry and thought for a second. “Oh, did I tell you about the drunk guy last week?”

  “Um, no. Spill it.”

  “I was waiting for Mo to come over. It was dark out. And I heard this noise on the porch.”

  A sudden crash of a tray being dropped cut off the sound in the room as everyone swiveled to look. A man lay prone with a pile of food scattered around him. He lurched to his hands and knees and swung his head back and forth like a bull looking for a target to charge.

  “I’ll sue!” he bellowed. “This whole town—you’re bums, the lot of you!”

  Lisa gasped. “Carly, that’s him. Gary Barlow. That’s the drunk who was on my porch and in the Folly.”

  Barlow struggled to his feet and lumbered back to the cashier. “You shortchanged me!”

  Lisa could see the cashier shake his head, a scared look in the teenager’s eyes.

  “You’re a crook! This town is full of crooks!”

  The manager stepped out and put a hand on the cashier’s scrawny shoulder, allowing the youngster to take a step back. He spoke softly to Barlow, trying to pacify him.

  “No one takes Gary Barlow’s money and gets away with it!”

  Chapter 12

  Lisa and Carly stared at each other, eyes wide.

  “That’s the guy who broke into the Folly?” Carly stage-whispered.

  “Yeah. Looks like he’s drunk again,” Lisa said, shooting a glance across the restaurant to where the manager was attempting to calm the irate man.

  “I’m glad you’re ok. Who knows what someone like that is capable of?” Carly said. “In fact, I think I’d rather get Liam out of here, just in case.”

  “You got it.” Lisa tossed a little cash on the table for a tip and stood up. She grabbed the car seat. “That exit?” she said, nodding toward the door farthest from Gary Barlow’s drunken spectacle.

  “Yeah.” Carly slung the diaper bag over her shoulder and headed for the door.

  When they got to Carly’s SUV and got Liam’s car seat locked into place, Carly held up a hand. “Trembling,” she said. “These hormones are really something else. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever feel safe again.”

  Carly drove them back to her house. She came to a full stop at every stop sign, and looked both ways at every intersection. When they pulled into the driveway, Lisa looked into the back seat, in the little mirror propped over the baby car seat. Liam’s eyes were closed and his mouth partly open.

  “I think he’s sleeping,” Lisa whispered.

  Carly sagged back against the driver’s seat. Her eyes drooped to half-mast. “Of course he is. An hour rocking him and he’s wide awake, but he falls asleep on the ride home from Lola’s.”

  Lisa shrugged. “That’s babies for you.”

  “Sometimes I think babies are a microcosm of our whole lives.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you go after something, thinking it’ll make your life better, make you happier. But until you’re in the middle of it, you have no idea what it’ll really feel like,” Carly said, her eyes drooping farther closed.

  “Sometimes I feel like that about the café,” Lisa said. “In my imagination, I spend a lot less time washing dishes and mopping floors.”

  “Yeah.” Carly sighed. “I think what I miss the most is Gideon.”

  “Gideon? I thought he was taking parental leave.”

  “He is, but it’s just different. Everything we do is about this monumental task of being parents. It’s never just about us.”

  “Oh. Uh…” Lisa tried to think of something to say to her friend.

  Carly waved a hand. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just venting. Anyway, thanks for lunch.”

  “You want me to carry the car seat inside?”

  “No, let him sleep. I might catch a few winks myself,” Carly said, her eyes closed.

  Lisa climbed out of the SUV and eased the door closed.

  *

  As Lisa was sweeping the front porch before closing time, Mo’s truck pulled in and parked. Lisa smiled, watching her handsome boyfriend walk toward her. She thought of Carly and Gideon, being right there together and feeling so far apart. Would it be like that for her and Mo if they got serious?

  “Hey, good-looking,” she said, giving him a quick hug and inhaling his clean masculine scent.

  “Hi. I have it on good authority that today’s sunset will be something special,” he said. “So I packed a basket with some snacks, hoping I could convince you to come watch it with me.”

  “You packed me a picnic?” Lisa said.

  Mo nodded, a slight blush coloring his face.

  “I’d love to. The floors can wait.” She put the broom inside and traded her apron for a jacket.

  In the truck, Mo was quiet as he drove. The forest service road wound through tall pin
es, patches of snow between them showing where the shade ruled all day. At last, he pulled off the road and parked the truck.

  Taking the basket out of the truck, he led the way to a trail covered in dried pine needles. Lisa followed him, breathing in the heady scent of the needles being crushed underfoot. They went up a little rise, and Mo stopped. Lisa caught her breath as she saw the view of the meadow on the other side of the rise. Purple spires of lupine looked over a sea of little yellow flowers of heart-leaf arnica and the occasional bright red of a firecracker penstemon.

  Mo spread a blanket on the ground and knelt on it to open the basket. Lisa sat next to him, still raptly gazing out over the field of early wildflowers.

  Mo pulled out a series of little plastic containers, opening them one by one and placing them in a line in front of Lisa. Pickles, olives, mixed nuts, Melba toast rounds, cubes of cheese. Last, he retrieved a champagne bottle and two plastic champagne flutes. He lay the flutes on the blanket and started unwinding the wires on the cage surrounding the cork.

  “Champagne?” Lisa said.

  “Actually, it’s sparkling cider,” he said. “You know how I feel about drinking and driving.”

  Lisa smiled. The sun sank lower in the sky, nearly touching the horizon. Mo poured the cider. They sipped and nibbled as the setting sun painted the sky above the field of wildflowers pink and orange.

  Lisa sighed. “It’s just gorgeous.”

  “I want to ask you something,” Mo said.

  Lisa’s heart beat faster. She took in the beautiful, romantic surroundings and the serious expression on Mo’s face.

  “Go ahead,” she said carefully.

  “I don’t want you to be mad,” he said.

  Lisa furrowed her brow. What could he be planning to ask her that might make her mad?

  “Oh-kay,” she said, drawing out the word.

  He took a deep breath. “Please, this time, would you stay out of the murder investigation?”

  “What?” Her head snapped around and she stared at him open-mouthed.

  “I know, I know, your mother’s involved and you’re worried about her, but please, can’t you just let the police handle things this time?”

  “I can’t believe that’s what you wanted to ask me!” Lisa gulped down her cider and grabbed a handful of olives.

  Mo tugged at his collar like it was getting too tight.

  “I worry about you,” he said.

  “I can handle myself,” she snapped. “It’s you I’m not sure I can handle.”

  “What? Why? What’s wrong?” he said.

  “Twice! I can’t believe I fell for this twice,” Lisa muttered. She stuffed the olives into her mouth and chewed them like they owed her money.

  “Fell for… I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mo stammered. “I’m sorry?”

  “You’re sorry? How can you be sorry when you don’t even know what I’m talking about?”

  “I’m sorry that I don’t know,” he said with a diffident shrug.

  “Look around. Do you see all this? Flowers, sunset, champagne flutes, the woman you’ve been dating who recently turned thirty and just came back from seeing her best friend’s newborn baby.”

  She blinked her eyes rapidly, waiting for him to pick up the clues.

  When he understood, she knew it immediately from the deep red blush that ran from the tips of his ears across his face and down to his collar.

  “You thought I was going to ask you to… uh, you know,” he whispered hoarsely.

  Tears sprang into her eyes as she watched him squirm. He hadn’t even been thinking about it until she brought it up. Her cheeks burned red.

  “Never mind,” she said. “Let’s just go. It’ll be dark soon.”

  “Uh… uh… maybe we should talk about it,” he said.

  Lisa started grabbing lids and forcing them onto the little containers.

  “No. If you and I aren’t on the same page, what is there to talk about?” she said, trying to keep the tears out of her voice.

  “Lisa. Lisa, please,” Mo said. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I’ve never been in a relationship like this before. I know I’m probably messing things up every single day, but I don’t mean to. Please don’t be upset.”

  “I’m not upset, I’m just embarrassed. I feel like such a silly, foolish girl. Of course you’re not here to talk romance or commitment, of course you’re here to talk murder investigations!” A pair of fat tears slid down her cheeks and she brushed them away with her palms.

  “Just tell me what you want me to do,” Mo pleaded.

  “That would ruin it!”

  “Ruin it? How can communication ruin something?” he said, an edge of frustration in his voice.

  “It’s not romantic if I have to write you a script to follow. How would I know if you even meant it if I did that?” Lisa said. She tossed the containers into the basket and stood up.

  “I don’t say things if I don’t mean them,” Mo said.

  “Let’s just go.”

  Mo sighed. Lisa looked away from him. He moved the basket and picked up the blanket.

  “Help me fold this?” he said.

  She turned toward him, frowning as she took hold of the corners of the blanket. They folded it in silence. Mo tucked the blanket under his arm and lifted the basket. He turned on his flashlight in the deepening gloom and led the way down the path to the truck.

  Full dark had fallen by the time they reached the edge of town. The streetlights came on, splashing puddles of orange light on the canvas of darkness.

  Lisa sneaked a look at Mo. His jaw worked back and forth in the reflected light from the dashboard, as though he were still arguing.

  “I’ll investigate if I want to investigate,” she said, breaking the silence.

  “Investigate?”

  “My mother might be in trouble. You can’t tell me what to do,” she said.

  “I wish you would tell me what’s going on! I thought you were mad that I didn’t propose to you. Did I misread that whole thing? Please, Lisa, just tell me what’s going on.”

  “I can be mad about more than one thing at a time,” she said. “It’s a talent I possess.”

  Mo stopped the truck in front of the Folly and sighed heavily, turning off the motor.

  “You mean everything to me,” he said. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t know how I got along before I met you. But if you want me to understand something, you’ve got to use words. Please, please, use words.”

  Lisa opened her mouth, wanting to defend herself, but closed it again, realizing he had a point. She sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “I’ll try,” she said. “That’s the best I can do. Fair?”

  “Fair.”

  Chapter 13

  Lisa leaned on the porch railing and watched Mo’s truck drive away, the taillights quickly dwindling to tiny ruby sparks. She let herself inside and picked up the discarded broom.

  Mama Cat padded into the hall and sat in front of the door. She swished her tail twice and gave a little yip of a meow just a moment before someone knocked on the door.

  Lisa peeked outside before unlocking it. She didn’t want to make the same mistake she had the night Gary Barlow showed up on her porch. Seeing Toby, she opened the door.

  “Hey, cuz,” Toby said. “Got any leftovers you need to dispose of? Day-old baked goods? It’s for a good cause.”

  “That cause would be?”

  Toby grinned. “A hungry family member just getting off shift.”

  “Get in here. I can probably scrounge something.” Lisa flicked the broom at his heels, sweeping him toward the kitchen.

  She got him two big plates of food that was starting to go stale and installed him at the table in the kitchen. Toby dug in with an appetite.

  “How do you eat like that and stay fit enough to be a cop?” Lisa said, watching him stuff a big bite of sandwich in his mouth.

  He chewed and swallowed,
then nodded sagely at her.

  “Must be all that clean living,” he said.

  “Uh huh. Lift your feet up so I can sweep under there.” She attacked the little pile of crumbs and scraps that had accumulated under the prep table with fast, angry motions.

  “Are you ok, cuz?”

  Lisa stopped. “Why are men so obtuse?” she said.

  Toby’s eyebrows lifted. “Uh, did you not want me to eat your leftovers?”

  “No, it’s not you,” Lisa said, shaking her head.

  “Good.” He took another bite. “That means it’s either Mo or your dad, and I think your dad’s been on his best behavior since your mom let him back in the house.”

  Lisa sighed in response.

  “So what did he do now?” Toby said.

  “Never mind.”

  “Oh, it must be juicy. What happened, Lisa? You know you want to tell me,” Toby said, his voice reverting to the teasing, wheedling tone he’d used at age nine to beg for a second slice of cake.

  “Fine. I’ll tell you.” She pointed a finger at him. “But you’ve got to promise to keep it to yourself.”

  Toby crossed his heart and kissed his fingertips.

  “Well,” Lisa said, not sure where to begin, “he took me on a picnic. Very romantic. Flowers, sunset, champagne flutes, sparkling cider.”

  “And that makes him obtuse?” Toby said, tilting his head to one side.

  “No. I’m not done. He took me on a picnic and he said he wanted to ask me something. So, naturally, I thought he was getting ready to pop the question. Or maybe suggest we move in together. You know, something romantic to go with all the romance.”

  Toby tilted his head to the other side, squinting at her. “And then?”

  “And then he asked me to stay away from the murder investigation.”

  “That’s it?” Toby said.

  “What do you mean, that’s it? Yes, that’s it. I was so embarrassed, you just can’t imagine it.”

  “The guy cares about you,” Toby said. “He wants to protect you. Or he wants to protect my job, which is fine with me, too.”

  “If he cares so much, why is he so slow to make a commitment?” Lisa said.

  “Cuz, slow down. You’ve only known him half a year. What’s the rush?”