“Very funny.” She smiled wanly and handed me a cracker sandwich that may or may not have been pre-licked by a gray cat.
“I just have a bad feeling,” she said. “I lie awake in bed thinking about stuff. After what happened to Mr. Michaels, it's all everyone wants to talk about. Everybody's got their own theory about where the killer went wrong.”
I snorted. “The killer went wrong by getting on my bad side.”
“Then it's settled. You can never move out of Misty Falls again. We need you to scare away those would-be murderers.”
“Who said I was thinking about leaving?”
“Sometimes you get that faraway look, like a kid who wants to run away from home.”
“So, I'm a runaway?” I asked in a light tone.
She fixed me with her bright blue eyes, which were just as lively as I remembered from when we were little kids, bonding over loose teeth and favorite comic books.
“Jessica, I'm not going anywhere. I moved back here for a reason.”
She kept giving me her skeptical look.
To change the topic, I opened the container of herbed olives. “These aren't garlic-stuffed,” I assured her. “Just fresh herbs, in case you want to smooch someone at midnight.”
She helped herself to the plump, glistening olives with a happy sigh. “Good. I'll crash here tonight, and I'll have decent breath for smooching Jeffrey McFluffy Trousers.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Logan's here,” I said. “Quick, refill the cheese tray and make it look like we haven't touched it.”
“Of course,” she said as she spread out more crackers. “We are dainty ladies and we'd never eat the guest food before the guests arrive.”
I ran to the door, nearly tripping over Jeffrey, who seemed to think he was a dog sometimes, eager to see who was at to the door when someone knocked softly, but not if they knocked loudly. He pawed the door impatiently.
I opened the door, bracing myself for the possibility Logan would have his own date for the evening, the woman whose voice I'd heard through the bathroom wall.
To my relief, he was alone. To my disappointment, he wore jeans and a college sweatshirt, both well worn. I'd seen him in suits, so I knew he owned good clothes, but this casual attire didn't bode well.
“Stormy Day in a dress,” he said gruffly. “For a kooky cat lady, you clean up real nice once the bathrobe comes off.”
“Logan Sanderson, for a hotshot lawyer, you resemble an unemployed drummer on your days off.”
He looked down my body. “Those are some nice stripes. Black and white. Very eye-catching.”
Logan's blue eyes took a second and a third tour of my zebra stripes, and he flashed me his perfect teeth. His dark beard made his teeth look even brighter, and his lips redder.
Despite the cold air coming in the open door, I was feeling warmer and warmer.
He nodded down at Jeffrey, who was sniffing and rubbing his face on the frayed hem of Logan's jeans. “May I come in, or are we waiting for the cat to finish claiming me? You know, they rub their cheek glands on things they like. He's saying I'm his now.”
“That would be funny if humans did that.”
He laughed. “It would make life easier.” He scooped up Jeffrey, gave him a manly kiss on the forehead, then handed him to me.
I stepped aside and nodded for Logan to come in. As I clutched the squirming cat to my chest, I noticed how rapidly my heart was beating. The night wasn't going as planned, but it did promise to be memorable.
Chapter 3
I introduced Logan to Jessica. She'd seen him around town, including one night in December that we'd all been at the Fox and Hound, but they hadn't met. She immediately showered him with praise for being such a hero the night I was nearly shot and killed.
“You're giving me too much credit,” he protested. “Stormy took care of herself, and I didn't get involved in any of the action.”
“Maybe next time,” she said. “You look like you work out.” She reached for his bicep, and he flexed for her, pursing his lips in that funny way guys do when they're focusing on their arm muscles. Jessica gave me a nod of approval. “Stormy, your boy here's got some muscles.”
“Good. Come spring, he can help me move some of those big rocks around the front flowerbed.”
Logan grunted, “Me. Break. Rocks. On. Head.”
We laughed while Jessica grabbed the snacks and steered us toward the living room.
Jessica said to my tenant, “Any friend of Stormy's is a friend of mine, so you just let me know if you ever need anything.”
“Like what?” He took a seat at the end of the sofa. His tone was friendly, but not flirtatious. He had been giving Jessica some admiring looks, glancing over her bright red hair and attractive figure, but his eyes didn't linger. His gaze kept returning to my black and white stripes, then he spotted Jeffrey circling the coffee table and cheese plate with bad intentions, and scooped the cat up into his lap. Jeffrey squawked, but didn't run away.
“Like what? Hmm.” Jessica tapped her freckled chin and looked up at the ceiling. “Well, I'm the one to call if you need a deal on catering. The sandwich shop I manage specializes in retro party food. Have you ever had miniature cocktail wieners in aspic? It was all the rage in the sixties to put anything and everything into molded gelatin. Of course, we do regular food, too, but the retro showpiece dishes are mainly to get people talking.”
“That does sound fun,” he said. “Would you guys make ants on a log? That's a celery stick with peanut butter and raisins.”
“I know all about ants on a log!” She punched him on the arm, her tomboy side coming out, in contrast to her princess-styled red hair.
“I've always wanted to have a fondue party,” he said, and soon the two of them were engrossed in conversation about the best cheeses for melting, and whether or not raclette parties—the kind where guests cook their own skewered food on a tabletop grill—were the height of entertainment or just a goofy fad.
I watched, smiling, as the two of them chatted.
Jeffrey, who had lodged a verbal complaint when Logan scooped him onto his lap, seemed to have mixed feelings about his current predicament. He'd settled on one of Logan's thighs, and was being petted vigorously. Logan's hand looked so big on the cat's small head, bobbing up and down with the pats. Jeffrey lengthened his body and wrapped his front paws around Logan's knee, looking like a kid gripping the safety rail on a roller-coaster—having the time of his life, but also unsure about what might happen next.
I poured sparkling apple juice for everyone, then the three of us nibbled the snacks and debated how to host the perfect dinner party. We agreed that food was important, but not as important as having the right dinner guests. You wanted a few people who were polite, at least one to help you with serving, and maybe one or two bad seeds who would stir up a bit of trouble to keep things lively. The way Logan talked, I wondered if he saw himself as a bad seed who'd drink too much wine and cause a scene. That was probably a bad thing for someone trying to maintain a professional image.
Time flew, until the reminder on my phone beeped that it was time to get going to the party.
Jessica pointed to Logan's college-logo sweatshirt and said, “If you change that shirt, you can be more than just our chauffeur. They're still selling tickets at the door, so get yourself changed and join us for a night of dancing.”
“Who has two thumbs and doesn't dance?” He used his thumbs to point to himself. “This lawyer.”
I interjected, “You don't have to dance. Just come and hang out.”
He stroked his neatly trimmed beard and looked around my living room like he was searching for an excuse. Jeffrey was still on his lap, eyeing the last chunk of cheese.
“I appreciate the offer, ladies, but I've got a full night of research ahead of me. Back in my old life, I specialized in a very narrow field of law, but now that I'm one of only a few lawyers in a small town, I'm training myself to become more of a gen
eralist.”
“On New Year's Eve?” Jessica squealed in disbelief. “You're not planning to ring in the new year studying. Tell us the truth. Have you got a girl coming over? Is she there right now? Is that who I heard through the bathroom wall?”
I shot Jessica a wide-eyed look, but it was too late. The question had been asked, and I was curious to hear his answer. Even Jeffrey looked interested, gazing up from his perch on Logan's knee.
Logan looked right at me. “My landlady never warned me about thin walls. Hear anything good lately?” He raised one dark eyebrow, turning his statement flirty.
“Anything good?” I gave him a bewildered look. “I wasn't spying, but the wall between the bathrooms is thin, apparently. This house is new to me, and you're my first tenant.”
Jessica said, “We didn't hear anything interesting.” She grabbed the last cracker and gave him a goofy grin. “Bring your friend along tonight. The more, the merrier.”
“Yes, you're both welcome to come.”
He smiled up at me. “I told you the truth. I'll be spending tonight alone, studying. And I don't dance.”
I got to my feet and smoothed down the stripes of my new dress. Even if I did look like a zebra, I looked like the kind of zebra Logan couldn't take his eyes off.
“Have fun with your studying,” I said with a smile. “We'll be sure to raise a toast to your new endeavors as a generalist.”
“And save me a kiss,” he said with an even bigger smile.
“A kiss?” I repeated.
Jessica, who'd just taken a sip of her sparkling apple juice, made a noise as she struggled to swallow her drink without choking.
Logan gently evicted Jeffrey from his lap, then got to his feet. “Sure. If you have any left over, it's a cheap and easy way to tip your chauffeur.”
The three of us moved over to the door and started putting on our jackets. Jessica patted Logan on the shoulder and said, “Cool your jets, there, big guy. If you want a kiss, you need to take my friend Stormy on an official date before you even try.”
He gazed down at me, still much taller than me even after I'd put my high heels on. “I'll take that under advisement,” he said huskily.
“Thanks for driving us,” I said. “It's such a busy night for the taxis, but you don't have to wait up. We'll get our own ride home. It's easier to share a ride when everyone's leaving the same place.”
“It sounds like the whole town's going to be at this party,” he said.
Jessica teased, “Everyone but you, Mr. Non-Dancing Lawyer Pants.”
He opened the door and the three of us stepped out into the crisp night air. I walked toward Logan's mid-sized SUV in the shared driveway, carefully stepping where the snow had been flattened by tires so I didn't get snow inside my party shoes.
The yard was well lit by street lamps, and I noticed there was a set of tracks behind Logan's SUV that didn't match his tires. The tracks couldn't be from Jessica's little car turning around, because she'd parked on the street facing the way she would have been headed when coming from her apartment. These tire tracks were from whoever had been at Logan's place, talking to him from his bathroom.
“Ooh, pictures,” Jessica said. “By the snowy tree.”
I backtracked and posed next to her, with a snow-covered tree as our backdrop.
“Gorgeous, ladies,” he said as he clicked pictures using her phone, some with the flash and some without. “Now do the Charlie's Angels pose.”
Jessica and I made finger guns and struck poses until we were laughing through chattering teeth. Then we piled into our chauffeur's vehicle and headed toward the Fox and Hound.
By the time we pulled into the parking lot for the pub, Logan still hadn't been convinced that dancing was something a real man could enjoy.
Jessica pointed to an unusual car in the parking lot—a hearse. “Look! The voodoo lady is here,” she said. “I wonder if she's doing fortunes tonight.”
“Voodoo lady?” Logan asked. “Is this some Misty Falls tradition I should know about?”
“Beats me.” I reached for the door handle and let myself out of the vehicle. I'd gotten about six feet away when I suddenly remembered something troubling and turned around.
Logan lowered his window and leaned out. “Did you forget something?”
Jessica didn't notice me turning back, because she'd spotted some people she knew and started talking to them near the entrance.
I trotted back over to talk with Logan without having to yell across the parking lot. When I reached his door, the air around us crackled with a different energy now that it was just the two of us. He leaned out the window, his blue eyes level with mine.
“It's probably nothing,” I said casually. “But remember when we were at the station together, giving my statement?”
“And you were in that fuzzy, splotchy housecoat? How could I forget?”
“Didn't that lady officer, Peggy Wiggles, say something about the police being busy with complaints about some voodoo lady?”
He nodded, his expression growing worried. “You're right. She did mention a voodoo lady. What are the odds this town would have two of 'em?”
“You should come in and meet her. A person like that might be needing a lawyer soon.”
He frowned at the hearse, then turned back to me. “You should stay away from this person. It's not that I'm superstitious or believe in magic, because I don't, but some fortune-tellers can be dangerous. Just like all people, there are good ones and bad ones, but when it comes to something like this, the bad ones are… bad seeds, and not in the fun way.”
We both looked over at the strange vehicle.
The woman's hearse was black, like most modern hearses, but had a swirling custom paint job on the sides. The lettering was purple and blue:
VIBRANT & VIVACIOUS!
~ VOULA VARGA ~
PSYCHIC EXTRAORDINAIRE
I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Are you worried she's going to get a hex put on me? Logan, I've already survived one attempted murder—two, if you count the sleeping pills. I think I'll be okay dealing with some gypsy palm reader, or whatever she is.”
Behind me, Jessica called for me to come join her.
Logan fidgeted with his seatbelt, like he was considering parking and coming in.
“They don't have a dress code,” I said. “You look like a college kid on laundry day, but I'm not too ashamed to be seen with you.”
“Just be careful,” he said. “Have fun tonight, but keep your eyes open, okay?”
“I'm a big girl,” I said cheerily. “Happy studying.”
He leaned out, like he was expecting a kiss goodbye. I leaned toward him for the briefest of moments, then we both jerked back, catching ourselves.
“Thanks again for the lift,” I said as I backed away, waving. “Don't wait up!”
He waved back, eyed the psychic's hearse one more time, then raised his window and drove away.
Chapter 4
I joined Jessica and the two people she was talking to near the pub's entrance. Her friends were a couple, both with sandy brown hair, but I didn't know who they were because both wore masquerade ball masks.
Jessica had pulled on her disguise, too—a glittering red mask that made her look like an orange-haired, crime-fighting superhero. I quickly reached into my purse and donned mine so I would fit in. My costume mask, covered in glittering purple sequins and accented with green feathers, had been purchased from the town's costume shop earlier that month. I'd bought it as an excuse to do some snooping, and now I was happy to put it to use.
“Stormy Day, you don't recognize us,” said the male of the couple.
“You sound disappointed,” I said lightly. “But shouldn't you be glad your disguises are so good?”
I leaned in to admire the intricate beadwork on the couple's matching brown-gold masks.
“Those are lovely, by the way,” I said.
“Marcy made them,” he said.
I took tw
o steps back in surprise. “Marvin and Marcy! I should have guessed it was you.”
Marcy reached out to give me a hug. “So good to see you again, and in one piece, with no bullet holes.” She squeezed me hard, like she really meant it.
Marvin and Marcy were a nice couple in their early forties who owned the local computer repair shop, Misty Microchips. The store was two blocks off the main retail strip, not far from my gift shop. I'd first met the couple through Jessica, and we'd all been out for Chinese food at the Golden Wok a few times, plus Marcy regularly popped into the gift shop to “soak in the cuteness.” Marvin and Marcy had been married for ten years and didn't have kids, unless you counted the Labrador-Poodle cross they were seldom without.
“No wonder I didn't recognize you,” I said. “You don't have Stanley with you.”
Marcy pouted, her lips sticking out in an exaggerated duck-bill shape to compensate for her eyes not being visible.
“Poor Stanley-boo-boo had to stay home,” she said. “We put his handsome tuxedo jacket on, though. That's what we call the compression vest we got from the dog therapist. It gives them a hug that calms them down. Poor guy gets so nervous about the fireworks, so we probably won't stay here too late.”
“He'll be fine,” Marvin said with a groan. “That poor dog wouldn't be such a neurotic wuss if you didn't coddle him so much.”
Marcy sighed. “Says the man who feeds him bacon scraps.”
Marvin cleared his throat, but didn't deny the allegations.
Considering the number of people-food treats that my cat had been enjoying, I couldn't judge either of them. I looked down at my feet and kicked a chunk of snow with the toe of my shoe.
Another group walked past us and opened the door of the pub, letting music and laughter spill out into the wintry night.
“Brrrrr,” Marvin said. “Shall we, ladies? We didn't buy tickets to stand shivering in the parking lot.”
“I should hope not,” Marcy said huffily. “These tickets weren't cheap. I hope the midnight buffet is better than the one we had at your cousin's house last year.”
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