She glared at me and then softened. “I’m supposed to be working on that. I did warn Didier not to expect overnight change.”
I knew she was annoyed that she hadn’t learned anything from eavesdropping on my conversation, but she had herself to thank for that. I’d learned how to be secretive from the master.
Fab slid onto a stool while I refilled the bowls of cat food and water, deciding that two of everything might prevent a cat fight.
“The vet gave Snow a clean bill of health,” I told Fab.
She clearly thought I’d lost my mind. It looked like she wanted to say something but stopped herself. We both knew the only animal she had ever liked was Jazz, and the feeling was mutual.
The doctor had done an ultrasound and predicted two kittens, which she determined had to do with Snow being underweight, but I reassured her that that would be remedied now that Snow was staying at my house. I’d sighed with relief, knowing the baby count could have easily been much higher. Snow, as it turned out, was three years old, and this was not her first pregnancy, as I’d predicted. Once the kittens came, I’d make an appointment for a return visit for mother and babies to be fixed.
On the drive home, I’d received calls that two of my connections had come through and were happy to help out. They assured me that the horses and birds would be moved today. I didn’t have a single worry about their new homes.
My phone rang, and I looked at it; a behind-the-bar shot of Phil smiled back at me. I smacked Fab’s hand before she could answer for me, which most people didn’t appreciate as she had a surly phone attitude. “Is this good or bad news?” I asked Phil.
Fab motioned for me to hit the speaker button.
“Another dead man was found last night. Good news: it wasn’t on any of your properties, but damn close—he lived at the trailer park your brother unloaded.”
“Close enough.” I grimaced. The trailer park had once been accessed by a dirt road that ran through the property Jake’s sat on. By mutual agreement, that entrance had been blocked by a solid fence, and the trailer park was now accessed from the road around the corner. “Anyone we know?”
“Reed Johns was a long-time local and janitor at the high school. He didn’t have a criminal record. He was the only full-time resident of the trailer park, scoring reduced rent in exchange for handyman jobs, and the owners liked him; nothing but good things to say.”
“Does this one have a connection to the others?”
“No one’s talking. Shots to the back, like the others, and my sources say there are whispers of a serial killer, but the cops want to keep that out of the news as long as they can.”
“Any leads?” Fab asked.
“Once again, no. The cops aren’t stupid; they may not have a solid lead, but they have a pretty good idea what they’re looking for—one person. Crimes by more than one person will never be exactly the same.”
“Thanks for the info. Let us know if you find out anything new. Next call, I hope it’s to tell us the killer is in custody.”
Fab nodded in agreement.
“Hopefully, there will be an arrest before another body turns up. If not, you’ll be my first call.”
I stared at the phone after disconnecting. “Serial killer.” I shuddered, looking at Fab.
“The Cottages, Jake’s, and now the trailer park. Coincidence?” Fab wrinkled her nose. “Neither of us believes in those. If there’s a personal connection, and not just the luck of the draw, we need to figure out what’s going on.”
“If someone wants to make me look like a killer, they’re doing a poor job. It was clear from the start that the bodies found on my property were dumped there; they didn’t bother to hide that fact. There hasn’t been a scintilla of evidence that even suggests I had something to do with it.”
Chapter 21
I blew into the parking lot of Jake’s, parking illegally at the front door. Being the owner had its perks.
“What are you doing here?” Phil demanded, looking up from washing glasses and schmoozing with her regular customers.
“If you must know, I need to drop the receipt reports off at the CPA’s tomorrow.”
Phil pointed to the clock on the wall. “Did you forget about your date?”
“My date?” I stared in confusion. Suddenly, I remembered the whole “auditioning a boyfriend” thing with a sinking feeling in my chest. I’d had every intention of coming clean about the “dating” thing but kept putting it off. “Oh damn, I forgot about him. I had it on a to-do list somewhere to cancel that.” I turned, surveying the bar. “Where is he? I’ll tell him I have food poisoning.”
The two regulars at the bar belly-laughed. Phil shook her head. “He’s either at your house or about to arrive.”
My phone rang, and I knew it was Fab; she had her own tone. I held it out to Phil. “You talk to her.”
She stepped back. “Hell, no.”
It stopped ringing for several seconds, then started up again. This time, I answered. “Hi.”
“Your date is here,” she growled. “What’s your name again,” she yelled without moving the phone far enough from her mouth. I winced. “Bart’s here. He mentioned dinner, and just know, Didier isn’t cooking for this one.”
“I’m on my way, and so is dinner. Be nice.”
Fab hung up.
“You set me up with Bart…?”
“Watford is the last name. You wanted different, you got it.” Phil flashed me a crooked smile.
I fished my car keys out of my pocket. “Put in a big order—you know what we like—with extra for leftovers. Have it sent to my house. Tell Cook there’s a big tip in it for him if he steps on it. We got the liquor covered.” I ran out the door.
* * *
Fab met me at the door. “I thought this dating business was over with. He says this is a blind date. Who would fix you up with him?”
“I’m sure he’s very nice.” As I raced home, I had every intention of coming clean about the deception, but one foot inside the door, I lost my nerve.
“Whatever.” She snorted and grabbed my arm. “Are you done with Creole? Is this because of me?”
“There you are,” Bart interrupted. “Madison, I presume.” He spread his arms wide as if to embrace me.
“Back off,” Fab told him, stepping in front of me. “She doesn’t hug.”
I smiled tentatively, trying to place the balding man standing there with his big-boy jeans belted above a slight beer gut. He looked vaguely familiar. A Jake’s customer, perhaps? I scooted around Fab, frowning at her. “Would you like something to drink?” I asked, setting my bag on the entryway bench. “Dinner is on its way,” I added and skidded into the kitchen.
“The other guy got me a beer.” He followed behind me and whispered, “I’ve been quite obnoxious in your absence.”
“Thank you for doing this.” I covered my laugh with my hand. I spotted Fab still hovering in the entryway and decided to stop stalling, apologize, and push Bart out the door. Instead, I filled a glass with iced tea, linked my arm in his, and steered him out to the patio, where we joined Didier at the table.
Bart hung his arm across my shoulder, flicking the ends of my hair. To my credit, I didn’t jump, but I hoped that was the end of the touchy-feely.
“You and I have something in common,” Bart said to me. “You love seafood, and I sell bait. I own Bart’s Worms, Etc., down on the docks.”
I had to bite back laughter.
Didier hadn’t said a word; in fact, he had smoke coming out of his ears and kept shooting angry looks at Bart and me.
“Who fixed you two up?” Fab asked, snuggling up to Didier.
Thankfully, I had taken a drink of tea and decided to extend it into a gulp.
“Patsy at the bar, the one who sings along to the jukebox, thought we’d be a good match.” Bart curled his hand into a microphone shape, singing a couple of off-key notes through it. “Madison tells me you’re a male model. Like, dresses and stuff?” He checked Didier
out.
Fab sat up straight, and her fist made contact with the table. “Hardly.”
I looked down and sucked my lips together. “I’m sorry,” I said to Didier. Bart was a great find, but now was the time to stop this jig before I lost two friends. I twisted my glass around. “I have something to say.”
The doorbell rang, and Fab shot out of her seat. “I’ll get it.”
“If it’s the food, I promised a big tip,” I called to her receding back. We kept an envelope in the kitchen drawer nearest the door for times like these so we didn’t have to run around hunting up cash.
I reached out to pat Didier’s hand, but he withdrew it, which only solidified my certainty that I couldn’t let this ruse continue. It would have been better to come clean when I first came through the front door, but what they say about hindsight is true.
I peeked over my shoulder to see Cook’s wife setting bags of food on the counter and waved at her.
Didier stood. “We’ll see you later. Fab and I are going out to dinner.”
“Please wait.” I reached out again, and he ignored me. “I have something to say, and I’m waiting for Fab to get back. Everything will become much clearer.”
“Who are you?”
Recognizing the voice, I tried not to groan, but failed. How many times was someone going to ask that question today? Mother stepped out on the patio in boating clothes, her nose and cheeks pink from the sun. Spoon stood behind Mother, similarly dressed.
Fab skirted back to Didier’s side. “Oh please… let me tell her.” Fab smirked and threw out her arm in a flourish.
I glared at her.
“This is Bart.” She flashed her creepy smile. “I forgot his last name, but you know how I am.” She moved next to his chair, patting his shoulder. “He’s Madison’s date; she kicked Creole to the curb.”
That declaration brought an immediate silence. It clearly made everyone uncomfortable; if all eyes hadn’t been glued on me, I would’ve laughed.
“Madison Elizabeth Westin, what the hell is Fab talking about?” Mother yelled. “I recall telling you and Creole that you should never have started dating if you were going to break up. Creole hasn’t called me. When did this happen? I thought you two were happy.”
“Where have we met?” Spoon looked at Bart like he was a dead bug under a microscope.
“I’ve seen him at Jake’s.” Mother turned on me to hiss, “You date the customers?”
This was such a mess, and with more than a few angry faces staring at me, I wanted to run and hide in my room. “This is all Fab’s fault,” I blurted.
“Me?” Fab screeched. “It most certainly the hell is not.” Her pitch went up with each word.
Mother’s tone didn’t hide her disappointment and irritation. “Quiet, the both of you.” We both shut up, and she turned to Didier. “I need a drink.”
A sound by the side fence drew everyone’s eyes. I knew who it was even before I turned. Creole. I ran to his side but refrained from throwing myself in his arms.
“What’s all the yelling about?” he asked in amusement. His blue eyes darkened as they flickered around the group.
“You must be her brother.” Bart stood, extending his hand.
“And you are?” Creole asked.
“Madison’s date,” Bart said with a big grin.
Creole, in worn jeans, scuffed boat shoes, and a day-old beard, barked, “This is my girlfriend.” His hand whipped out, pushing me aside, and he took a step in Bart’s direction.
I scurried in front of Creole. “Everyone take a seat. I can explain.”
Creole leaned down and whispered, “Another date? Again?” He laughed in my ear.
I turned, keeping my voice low. “I forgot to cancel.”
Creole hung his head, his shoulders shaking.
“Are you two still together or not?” Mother demanded in exasperation, sitting in the chair Spoon pulled out.
“I’d like to know the same damn thing,” Fab said in annoyance.
I grasped Creole’s hand, motioning everyone to the table. “Everyone. Sit. This is a good story; you won’t want to miss out.” I wondered how many would speak to me by the time I was done. When I looked around the table, I did a double take. “Where’s Bart?”
“Your date beat it out the door after Creole barked at him. Nice touch, cracking your knuckles.” Spoon laughed.
Creole sat down and pulled me into his lap, clasping his arm around my middle and making sure I had nowhere to run. He knew me so well. He brushed my lips with his, murmuring, “You don’t have to justify yourself. I’ll tell them we’re back together and the rest is none of their business.”
“If you two are done,” Fab sniped. “I’d like to hear what I have to do with your love life and who you date.”
“This ought to be good.” Spoon settled back in his chair.
I launched into an explanation of how tired I was with how Creole got treated and the name calling, leaving Fab’s name out it, though everyone knew who I was talking about. I told them that I’d decided, after the first date—which caught Mother by surprise and earned me a glare that I was certain it was because I hadn’t confided in her—that it wasn’t very much fun and planned to cancel this one but forgot. I then announced that Fab had finally admitted to liking Creole and appreciating the times he had her back. I snuggled back into his chest, and his arm tightened. “I love him, and he’s not going anywhere.”
“That’s the sweetest story,” Mother cooed. “I’m relieved to know that you’re not breaking up and we don’t have to suffer through your dating again.”
Creole and I laughed.
I banged my glass on the table. “Before we adjourn for dinner, I have another announcement that will make you happy, Mother. You’re going to be a grandmother.” I pointed towards Snow, curled up asleep on one of the deck chairs.
“What’s that?” Mother asked, disappointed.
Fab laughed. “Good. I’m not the only one.”
“You and Fab should be embarrassed not to know your animals,” I said.
“I had two-footed grandchildren in mind.” Mother snorted. “Does it have a name?”
“Snow,” I said.
“Hmm—” She shook her head and smiled. “Just because Spoon hired you for the job doesn’t mean you had to take one of the cats.”
I grimaced; apparently she hadn’t gotten the memo that I didn’t want anyone to know. “It wasn’t a hard decision; Snow and I had instant rapport.”
Mother humphed. “I heard the place was overrun with animals; I’m surprised that you didn’t take ten of them. I knew you’d be perfect to handle the problem.”
“I didn’t receive a text about this job.” Creole kneaded the back of my neck.
Not knowing what to say, I hesitated.
“Madison had it covered,” Fab said. “I wasn’t any help. She did it all on her own and did an excellent job.”
I sent a silent “thank you” to my friend. “I’m starving,” I declared, hoping to end this conversation.
Mother started issuing orders, giving everyone a job: setting the table, making the drinks, heating up the food.
“I’ll tell you about it later,” I said to Creole. “There was never any danger.”
Didier dragged Fab over, an arm around her waist. “If you have another problem with something that you can’t get across to Fab, you let me know. I’ll explain to her in a way she understands. Won’t I?” He looked down at her.
“Yes.” She gave him that “I’m drunk on sex” look.
“Better yet, I’ll figure out how to explain it myself. It shouldn’t be that hard, should it?” I asked her.
“He’s okay.” Fab nodded at Creole.
Creole winked, and she smiled back.
Chapter 22
Fab and I had just finished arguing over where we’d go for lunch when Mac called, frantic. Someone had broken a window to get into her house, but it didn’t appear as though anything was missing, which l
eft her puzzled. She felt certain, however, that it was her ex-husband, getting even with her for the sale of their marital home.
She lived in a blue-and-white bungalow cottage in a small housing tract. I’d noticed the “For Sale” sign on the property and knew she’d recently been given notice to move. Another owner disenchanted with handling rental property. When we pulled into the driveway behind Mac’s truck, she came out on the porch, slamming the screen door with her hip.
Fab jumped out of the SUV, pulling out a pair of latex gloves and snapping them over her fingers. “Did you call the cops?” she asked, sidestepping Mac, not waiting for an invitation to go inside.
I loved that she always came prepared.
“Hold on, sister,” Mac shouted to Fab and followed her back inside, shaking her head. “Nothing got stolen. That’s why I called you and didn’t report the break-in. I figured the cops wouldn’t take it seriously.”
Fab stopped her snooping and turned to Mac. “I’ll have a camera installed in the house, and if your husband comes back, you’ll have proof and can have him arrested.”
I had already claimed a chair, and Fab sat down across from me.
Mac paced the small living room, which held only a handful of furniture. Soon after the divorce, the ex had taken everything that wasn’t nailed down while she was at work. “You know all those favors I’ve amassed from the two of you over the years? I want to cash them in all at once.”
I whipped out my hand, grabbing a handful of Mac’s skirt. “Sit,” I ordered. “What could be so huge that one favor wouldn’t suffice?”
“Lay it out,” Fab said gruffly. “Then we’ll decide. Don’t get all wordy. Keep it simple.”
I made a face at Fab. “You know that’s not how it works. The favor-holder gets what they request.” I patted Mac’s shoulder, then glared at Fab. “No whining.”
“As I told you, Shirl and I want to buy the place across from The Cottages.” Mac wrung her hands. “I followed up on a rumor and contacted the Canadian owners. They blamed me personally for all the riff-raff that The Cottages has attracted. It’s apparently also my fault that they rented to the ones we wouldn’t. First, I told them that we’d broomed out the undesirables, and when that didn’t work, I blamed everything on you, as the owner and all.” She beamed at me. “They sputtered an angry tirade and hung up.”
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