by Ritter Ames
I relaxed back onto the bar stool. Well, relaxed wasn’t exactly the right word. I didn’t stand, but I wasn’t anywhere near relaxed. My heart raced. My palms and armpits dripped with sweat.
“He’s almost here. What do I do now?” I asked Marmaduke.
“I thought you me told to stop talking in your ear,” Shane said.
“Not you,” I snapped.
“Extend your hand,” Marmaduke instructed.
Jaxx’s brilliantly white smile was welcoming and seductive at the same time.
I jutted my hand out to shake his.
“Not like that,” Marmaduke urged me calmly. “Gracefully, palm down, like a lady. You’re not joining him for a game of poker, you’re greeting him for a night of lovemaking.”
Repressing a grimace, I turned my hand to Marmaduke’s specifications. Either way, Jaxx was going to feel the perspiration.
He took my hand into his own. It was tender and warm and made me tingle. “Sharon?” he asked, his voice deep, but gently mellow. Then he kissed my hand.
“Hello, Jaxx.” My voice cracked, and I think I felt a bead of sweat forming on my hairline. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
“Oh yes, that was perfect,” Marmaduke said. “You are doing nicely now.”
“You’re looking lovely this evening.”
My cheeks flushed and a nervous giggle nearly escaped my throat. I swallowed. “Thank you.”
With a suave, James Bond-like move, Jaxx caught the bartender’s eye as he slid on to the bar stool beside me. “Dry martini,” he told the man.
The martini was in front of him almost as if by magic. Jaxx leaned close, rested his arm on the back of my stool and spoke in soft, throaty tones. “Tonight is about you, Sharon. Tell me your pleasure.”
His breath was hot on my neck and if my heart had been racing before, now it was galloping like a thoroughbred in the Kentucky Derby. I lifted the wine glass to my dry lips, desperate to wet them and my cotton-mouth. When I gulped, I learned the hard way wine doesn’t go down the gullet as easily as a Shirley Temple. The subsequent coughing fit was impossible to control. I slapped the counter as tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Sip,” Marmaduke chided me. “Sip the wine, do not gulp. Oh, if only we’d had time for a course in refinement prior to this ruse.” Jaxx came to the rescue, rubbing my back. “Are you okay?” He motioned to the bartender. “Glass of water here, please.”
Once the coughing subsided, I decided to use my clumsiness as part of the act. I dried my eyes, sipped some water, and offered a coy smile. “I apologize, Jaxx. I’m new to this. My husband, he’s so busy—out of town on business all of the time, too busy to pay attention to me. I can’t even believe I’m doing this, meeting you here like this. I’m so nervous I can barely stand it.”
“Bravo,” Marmaduke said, clapping his hands. “Nicely played.”
“Sharon,” Jaxx said in a tone as comforting as a plush, warm blanket, “you are a vibrant, beautiful woman. Don’t you ever forget that. Tell me about your dreams. What are you passionate about?”
Man, he was good. I was beginning to understand why he commanded such a high price. What was I passionate about? “Bluebirds.”
“Bluebirds?” Marmaduke moaned.
“Bluebirds?” Shane unknowingly echoed Marmaduke’s disbelief.
Only Jaxx accepted my answer with seasoned attentiveness. “Bluebirds. They’re beautiful creatures.” He leaned even closer. “Tell me more.”
Shane made gagging noises in my ear.
Things were heating up. My libido sizzled. Keeping focused on the real purpose of our meeting proved more and more difficult. “I, uh, monitor bluebird houses around Stephens City. It’s all volunteer work, but fun. Six houses. This spring, five of them had bluebird broods and one a brood of sparrows.”
Jaxx stared into my eyes. “Fascinating.”
“Yes, well, it’s something to keep me busy,” I sighed, milking the lonely wife act.
“You know what else is blue? Your eyes. You have alluring, sapphire eyes, Sharon. Windows into a graceful soul.”
Was it a corny line? Yeah, and I bought it anyway. He had me hooked. “No one has ever said that to me before.”
Jaxx brushed my bare shoulder with his lips and his hand found my knee. “But I see unfulfilled passion in those eyes too. Am I right?” His fingers began creeping up my thigh.
My alluring, sapphire eyes fluttered and I don’t even want to say what else was fluttering.
Shane scoffed. “Real original. Women pay him for this dialogue?”
I wanted to tell Shane that it wasn’t the dialogue. No, it wasn’t the dialogue. My graceful soul, among other things, ached for more. My lips parted as our faces drew closer. I rejoiced in the sensation of his hands tickling the soft skin of my inner…
My sensual reverie broke when I realized his hands were inching dangerously close to the weapon strapped to my thigh. My breath shallow, I pulled away just enough to discreetly sever the seduction before it went too far. I batted my eyelashes. “You are so nice,” I said, gulping air and looking around as though I feared we were being watched. I placed his roaming hand on the bar, but not before I gave it a longing squeeze. How I wished he were for real. I sighed with regret. “I better use the ladies room before we’re seated. Would you mind keeping an eye on my clutch and keys?”
“Of course.” Jaxx winked and reached for his martini. “Don’t keep me waiting too long. I want to learn more about Sharon, the woman.”
Jaxx’s lines were ridiculously cheesy when his hands weren’t tantalizing me as he delivered them.
“Thank goodness you stopped that when you did,” Marmaduke said. “Why, I feared the patrons of this establishment were about to witness a spontaneous and much too public carnal act.”
I adjusted the skirt of my dress and slid off the bar stool. The two-inch heels I wore pinched momentarily, but I was relieved when I didn’t teeter. I’d practiced walking in them most of the day to assure I’d look natural. Fancy shoes, like low-cut dresses, were not my thing. Contrary to their portrayal on television shows, female detectives do not generally investigate in high heels. Because we’re not stupid.
I set the keys on top of a silver clutch borrowed from Amy. “Be right back,” I added, before turning and making for the restroom at the rear of the restaurant.
“That’s my cue,” Marmaduke said gleefully. “I shan’t let the crook out of my sight. I will report when he lifts the key.”
“You’re leaving the keys without anyone to watch what this Jaxx guy does?” Shane asked.
Of course, I had left someone to watch: Marmaduke. But I couldn’t tell Shane that. “Just trust me,” I whispered. “I’ve got this under control.”
“I’m coming in,” Shane said. “Jesse, be ready.”
“Jesse?” I nearly shouted. “You brought Jesse Leeks along?” Thankfully, I was almost to the bathroom, so Jaxx couldn’t hear me, but a few people at a nearby table gave me strange looks.
I was already in a panic my operation had been compromised when Marmaduke appeared in front of me with alarm written all over his face. “It’s not the gigolo! It’s the mustached man tending bar, and you can catch him in the act if you hurry. I believe he is making a copy of the key!”
“Shane, the bartender has your key. Repeat, it’s the bartender.”
When Shane didn’t respond, I spun around to see if he was in the restaurant. Somewhere in the rotation, I lost my balance and landed flat on my face. But I’m a cop. We’re trained that when we fall, we get right back up.
By now, I had an audience of drinkers at the bar and diners in the restaurant. I pinned my focus on the bartender while kicking off the heels and jumping to my bare feet.
Jaxx had been moving to come my aid. He seemed surprised at my agility. “Are you okay?” he asked.
My ankle throbbed, but I wasn’t stopping to chit chat about it. I had a thief to catch. The man behind the counter was just returning my keys to their
place on the bar when he spotted me catching him in the act. “Stop right there,” I said, removing my gun from its hidden holster. “I’m a Stephens City police officer and you’re under arrest. I’ve got backup on the way. Hands in the air.”
The man raised his hands above his head. He huffed in annoyance. “I should have known.”
“Shane has arrived on the scene,” Marmaduke announced with dramatic flair.
I moved slowly down the length of the bar, my weapon aimed at the thief.
“I told him you didn’t fit the profile,” the bartender sneered.
If I were a less competent detective, his comment might have taken me by surprise, but as soon as Marmaduke said the bartender was involved, I suspected it was a two-man endeavor. He and Jaxx were partners, of course. Jaxx picked this bar at this restaurant because it would be easy for him to make sure the bartender had access to keys. Jaxx was smooth with his hands and delivery, but he couldn’t escape my keen peripheral vision. He was halfway to the side exit.
Being a smart cop himself, Shane had locked in on the retreating gigolo, but the distance was too great.
“Marmaduke!” I shouted and pointed. “Stop Jaxx before he gets away!”
“I’ll try my best,” he replied, vanishing from the bartender’s side and reappearing just below the exit sign.
Confused, Shane slowed his advance. “Marmaduke? Did you say Marmaduke?”
“Forget that,” I told him. “Get him!”
Luckily for Shane and me, Marmaduke was faster than either of us. He snatched an empty chair from a nearby table and toppled it right in Jaxx’s path.
I’m sure to everyone around me, the chair appeared to scoot across the floor and then fall all on its own.
Jaxx didn’t have a chance—he hit the chair and went flying, and soon enough Shane was on top of him.
“Take that, Sherlock Holmes,” Marmaduke said, puffing up with pride. “A thieving bartender and a paid inamorato in one fell swoop. It is an exciting night—an exciting night indeed.”
Jesse Leeks arrived on the scene just after Shane tackled Jaxx. He assisted me in cuffing the bartender.
“Nice dress, Sage,” he said. “You clean up nice.”
That was the first time Jesse had ever complimented me.
“Good job here,” he added.
Two compliments in less than a minute. I might have to reconsider my opinion of Jesse Leeks after all.
* * *
BOTH MEN RETAINED lawyers and neither were talking, but we had probable cause to obtain a warrant to search their apartment. Turns out they were brothers. Ronald and Daniel “Jaxx” Kaczinski. Clean records, surprisingly. Not a convicted crime under their belts before that night. They had plenty of cash lying around their pad, however, and a few stolen items from their latest robbery—Belinda Rucker’s other cell phone, for one.
A week later, as I sat at a table at Barney’s pub enjoying a Shirley Temple and cheesy fries, Shane walked in. He was off duty but strutted in his usual cop cocky way. He plopped down in a chair across from me. “Costa Rica,” he said.
“What about Costa Rica?”
“Then you didn’t hear? The Kaczinski brothers—that’s what they were doing. Saving money so they could go to Costa Rica. They’d already put down half the cash to buy a bar down there.”
“Costa Rica,” I said. “I’d like to go there.”
“Do they have bluebirds there?” he asked.
“Don’t be an ass now, Shane. I’m starting to like you. And I don’t like a lot of people.”
“Amy says hi, by the way.”
“Tell her I said thank you for trusting me.”
He leaned over the table and narrowed his eyes at me. “Come clean, Sage.”
“Clean about what?”
“You know what.”
“Seriously. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Marmaduke.”
Marmaduke took form in the third chair at the table. “Yes? You called?”
“Interesting name,” I said. “A friend of yours?”
“I think he’s a friend of yours.”
“You’re not going to tell him about me?” Marmaduke asked.
I shook my head at both of them and changed the subject. “You know, Detective Lewis announced he’s transferring to Springfield next month. I hope you plan to put in for his job.”
He smiled and pushed his chair back, standing. “Oh, I will. Hopefully I’ll get it this time. Amy wants me off patrol before the baby is born.” He pushed the door to leave. “Maybe we’ll be partners.” He tipped his head and the door closed behind him.
I finished off my Shirley Temple, dropped a tip on the table and left Barney’s with Marmaduke following along.
“He’s a fine fellow, that Shane,” Marmaduke said. “And it is significant for me to offer such praise, having held him in poor regard for so long.”
“He is a fine fellow. I agree.”
“But…” Marmaduke hesitated.
We’d reached my car. “Marmaduke, are you at a loss for words?”
“It is just my sincerest hope you consider me your partner.”
I unlocked the door and got in, buckling up. “Here’s the thing,” I said. “Your name. It’s a mouthful. If you were my partner, I’d have to be saying Marmaduke, Marmaduke, Marmaduke all of the time. It’s a problem.”
“My dear friend Sophie always calls me Marmi. I would not be adverse to you borrowing the nickname if necessary to provide an economy of syllables.”
“Marmi.” I nodded. “Okay. That works. You can be my partner, Marmi.”
A smile blossomed across his pale face. “So it is official, then?”
“As official as it can be. You won’t have a business card or anything. I mean, you are a ghost.”
He chuckled. “Yes, imagine that calling card: Marmaduke Dodsworth, Ghost Detective.”
I planted my forehead on the steering wheel. “You want business cards, don’t you?”
He waved off the idea. “We can discuss it at a later date. Right now, I’m far more curious about what our next assignment is”
With the key in the ignition, I gave him a shrug. “I’m off duty right now, partner, and I’m meeting someone at the movies. See you tomorrow at the office.”
Marmaduke’s interest was piqued. He practically salivated from curiosity. “Whom are you meeting?”
“That’s for me to know and you not to find out.”
“Yes, well, as I have said before, just because you don’t see me, doesn’t mean I am not around.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Karen Cantwell is the author of the USA Today bestselling Barbara Marr Murder Mystery Series and the Sophie Rhodes Ghostly Romance Series featuring the loveable and verbose ghost, Marmaduke Dodsworth. You can learn more about Karen and her books by visiting her Amazon Author Page or at her website http://www.karencantwell.com/
Contents
Cherry Tucker can get herself into the worst predicaments without even trying. This time, a mercy call on a neighbor gets her roped into a quid pro quo deal—if Cherry recovers a stolen family heirloom that is both somewhat embarrassing and due to be discovered missing very shortly, the neighbor will use his family clout to help her with some zoning issues. But if she fails, the expression “someone’s got her goat” will take on a whole new meaning for Cherry. And when she discovers a thievery ring, illegal auctions, and some green-eyed emotions after spotting Luke where she doesn’t expect him—well, it’s just another hilarious day in Halo, Georgia.
THE VIGILANTE VIGNETTE
A Cherry Tucker Mystery #5.5
By Larissa Reinhart
ONE
JOSIAH SWEETON WAS who people in Halo, Georgia, called an odd duck. However, odd duck-ishness is forgiven when you’re a Sweeton. Since I’d moved into Great Gam’s 1922 in-town cottage four years ago—two months after graduating from art college in Savannah—he’d been my neighbor. Not real neighborly. Real unusual for Halo. If yo
u’ve died, birthed, gotten sick, or in trouble, Halo is white on rice with all manners of casseroles and advice. Whether you want it or not.
This was the situation I currently faced with Josiah Sweeton. I’d heard he’d been laid up. Odd duck or not, I showed at his Victorian (passed to him on his mother’s side) casserole in hand. I got the casserole from my sister, Casey, as I never did master the art of casserole making. To make up for it, I painted him a bouquet of flowers on a 4x4 canvas.
“What am I going to do with this?” Having hollered me inside, Josiah studied the still life from his couch lay. One casted leg had been propped on three pillows.
Josiah Sweeton’s sweet tea was always half-empty if you know what I mean. Probably fifty years of bachelorhood didn’t help.
“I thought it would fit as easily on your bedside table as a vase of the real stuff,” I said. “It’s a still life.”
“I suppose Mother will enjoy it.” He grabbed a pencil, shoved it into his cast, and scratched. “Just put the casserole in the fridge. I’ve got casseroles coming out of my ears.”
“Glad to hear it.” I returned from the kitchen and sat on a chair opposite the couch. “If you need anything, just holler. I can bring in your mail, go to the store, or whatnot.”
“Thank you.” Josiah kept his eyes on his pink toes peeking out of the cast. “Miss Tucker, it has been brought to my attention that you’ve a knack for more than portraits.”
“Sir?”
“You’ve helped people in the past with uncomfortable situations. Sensitive matters. Assisting victims in distress. Like the theater director. And the family in the trailer park.”
“My Uncle Will is sheriff, so I’ve picked up some tips from him. However, I’m an artist. I’ve only helped folks who didn’t have anywhere else to turn.”
“I am in that sort of predicament.” His eyes zipped back to his toes. “I’d rather not elaborate, but some personal belongings have been stolen from me and I want them back.”
My nerves prickled, but I shut down my excitement. Those previous escapades had done much for my notoriety. In a notorious sort of way. “Did you try the police?”