by Deborah Camp
“But how did you know?”
He grinned. “Sunny. She told Rhema and Rhema told Quintara and—.”
“—Quintara told you,” she finished.
“Exactly.”
“And you never told me.”
“Quintara told me this afternoon. I’m relating it to you now, so slow your roll.” He slipped another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “You redheads have a hot temper. Like that Titian-haired lass in the movie. She went off like a firecracker every few minutes.”
“You like her,” Trudy said.
“I like you.” He rubbed noses with her, making her giggle. “So, Perchance thinks that Lt. Moore is a bitch, huh?”
“Yes, and she wanted me to agree, but I couldn’t. She was polite to me. Oh, but there was one thing that came out of the interview I wanted to run by you.”
“What?”
“The perpetrator could be a woman.”
He lifted one brow. That was it.
“You’ve already considered that?” Trudy asked.
“It’s something I’ve wondered about. I’ve mentioned it to you before. The bloodless deaths. None of the usual weapons. But you didn’t seem to get any vibes that it wasn’t a man you were channeling.”
“I’d assumed it was a man until Lt. Moore asked if I was sure. In the cases I’ve worked on, it’s always been a man.”
“This one could be different. Women are certainly capable of doing atrocious things.”
“We should make a trip back to Eureka Springs and see if we can sniff out anything else about the murders. Lt. Moore seems to think that Eudora and Kathryn died accidently. We know that’s not true. Maybe when we’re there, we can learn more . . .” Her words trailed off as she translated Levi’s expression. “Why don’t you want to go back there?”
“It’s pointless. We won’t learn anything new. Our presence will just stir up more problems for everyone.”
“How?”
“We’ll have security with us.” He glanced over at the table where their guards were eating ice cream cones while watching every other patron in the place.
Trudy winced. “Oh. Right.” Dragging along stern-faced security personnel wasn’t the least bit appealing to her. They’d attract all kinds of attention and make it seem that she and Levi viewed themselves as big shots. “Yeah, not a good time to travel. I hate having security shadowing us.” Saying it aloud and seeing her capitulation erase the lines of worry on Levi’s face redirected her thoughts. “What is it about Eureka Springs that bothers you so much? And don’t give me that crap about it being crammed with spirits. You’re Levi Wolfe and have dealt with a lot worse than pestering spirits and mischievous poltergeists.”
“I just don’t like the place.” He finished off the ice cream in two big spoonfuls. “Let’s go.”
Since he couldn’t leave until she slid out of the booth first, she held him captive. “You were the one who was determined to identify Glenn’s murderer. Why the cold feet now?”
“I’m still determined to find out what happened that night and who else was involved. I simply don’t need to be in Eureka Springs to accomplish that. Now scoot out.”
“I find it strange that you’re frightened of a little Arkansas tourist spot. Did you have a bad experience there you haven’t clued me into?”
“No, of course not. And I’m not frightened, for Christ’s sake.” He glanced past her to the table of guards. “Let’s go home, Tru.” When she didn’t move fast enough to suit him, he lowered his brows and did the brain nudge thing. It was like a hot poker grinding between her eyes.
Trudy instinctively lashed out, slapping him on the shoulder. “Don’t do that to me!” She made a furious sound as she hurtled from the booth. She snatched up her purse, which had toppled to the floor, and made for the door, fists pumping. When she was outside, she spun to face him, her finger pointed at his nose. “The next time you push at my brain like that I’m going to grab you by the nuts and give them a good twist.” She demonstrated in midair, making Thompson, who was edging past them, smother a chuckle. “You know I hate it, especially since you keep promising to teach me how to do it and never do!” To her chagrin, he smiled at her. “And this is not funny, Leviticus Wolfe.”
“I know, baby.” He covered her finger-pointing hand with his and brought it down to her side. “I don’t know how you put up with me.” He began walking with her, still holding her hand, and tucking it into the crook of his arm. The two other guards took up the rear, keeping a discrete distance from them. Thompson was half-a-block ahead of them. The security team had dressed casual to blend in, but Thompson still stood out in his black t-shirt and jeans that hugged his body-builder physique.
“I don’t appreciate being patronized either.”
“I’m not doing that. I know I’m difficult.”
“You’re dodging the issue.”
“I’m not. And I’m not going to Eureka Springs any time soon. I have work to do here. I have a book launch to schedule. I’m busy.” His voice took on an edge, making her dart a sideways look at him. He forced a small smile. “And I need you here. This is a busy time of year for us. You’re taking on a bigger role in Re-Home, remember? You said you’d go speak to some of the homeowners who have asked for our help to see what we can do for them.”
They were all valid points. But there was something else. Something he wasn’t saying. Perhaps even something he hadn’t admitted to himself. She decided to set it aside for another day since this topic obviously got him worked up and they weren’t making any headway. Besides, it had been a lovely evening and she wanted to end it in bed and in his arms.
“Okay?” he asked, angling forward a little to see her face better in the inconstant streetlights.
She rested her head against his shoulder for a moment. “Okay.” For now.
Staring at her phone calendar, Trudy realized that a month had slipped by with no Eureka Springs drama. Maybe it was over, she thought, and then a voice inside her head chided her. It wasn’t over until she knew the identity of the murderer. A woman murderer, very likely.
“Where to next, Mrs. Wolfe?” Dixie Beech asked as she started the car.
Trudy glanced up from her phone at the driver, then turned her attention to the folders beside her in the back seat. The security guard had driven her to four homes so far as Trudy took personal tours of residences in need of repairs. The owners were financially unable to improve on their houses and had applied to Re-Home for assistance. So far, Trudy had decided that Re-Home would install a central air/heat system for an elderly couple’s small bungalow, a new roof for the home of a motel maid widow with three children, storm windows and doors for the home of a single, working mother, and a ramp and railings on the front porch of a home owned by a paraplegic woman in her sixties.
“Let me see. That might have been my last appointment today.” Trudy stacked the folders beside her and swept her thumb over the phone screen. “Yes. That’s it. And, Dixie, you can call me Trudy. Remember?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s just that we call your husband Mr. Wolfe.” She shrugged.
Trudy echoed the gesture. “He probably wouldn’t care if you called him Levi.” Trudy could tell by the lack of response that her suggestion held little merit. “We can head home.”
“Very good.” Dixie put the car in gear. “Did your parents enjoy their visit here last weekend?”
“Yes, they did.” Trudy smiled as memories of her parents’ first visit to see her new home in Atlanta flitted through her. “They hadn’t been to the penthouse before, so it was all new to them.” New and astonishing, she thought. Her mother’s mouth had been ajar the whole time while Trudy gave her parents a quick tour.
“Oh, my,” her mother had exclaimed. “This is your closet? Good heavens! George, this is bigger than our bedroom! And this is all yours? Levi has another closet?”
Her father had surveyed Levi’s neatly folded shirts, couple of dozen suits, and wide assortment of ties, pocket
squares, handkerchiefs, belts, and shoes with a mixture of wonderment and disgust.
“Lot of money tied up in this stuff,” George Tucker had surmised.
“This apartment has more square footage than our house,” Cleo had noted. “I’d pictured a much smaller place. Like the ones you lived in when you were in college, but just a bit bigger.”
“I know.” Trudy had felt as if she should apologize, but for what? That her clever husband worked hard and made a lot of money? “It’s convenient for us, being next door to Levi’s office building.”
“Oh, honey, it’s a lovely place,” Cleo had enthused. “Why, it’s palatial! So modern.”
They’d only spent a day and one night in Atlanta. Arriving in Trudy’s former RV, they’d been on their way to see other relatives. There had barely been time for Trudy to take them to CNN for a tour and for Levi and her to treat them to dinner at a barbecue restaurant her father had read about. However, before they’d climbed back into the RV, her parents had promised to return for a longer stay in the fall.
“Your place is beautiful, honey,” her mother had said with wide eyes. “I took a bunch of pictures and I can hardly wait to show them to everyone. When Sadie sees them, I bet she’ll be calling to find out when she and Bryce can come here.”
“My family is always welcome,” Trudy had said.
Her parents’ reaction to Levi’s – and now her – lifestyle had reminded her of how she’d felt when she’d first stepped into Levi Wolfe’s private world. Before she’d entered his penthouse apartment, she’d viewed him as a mysterious, handsome, talented enigma. Levi had a way about him. He was reserved, aloof, but cordial to people he met. Little by little, while working with him on their first murder case, she’d seen cracks in his “public” persona. In the brief times she’d met him at Quintara’s Psychic Roundtable, she’d felt the undercurrent of agitation or anger and deep-seated sadness in him. While working with him and becoming the object of his next sexual conquest, she’d peeled back his layers until she’d touched his carefully guarded and badly scarred heart.
But even then she was unprepared to discover that he wasn’t just “well off.” He was wealthy. His penthouse, his business, and his charity work had taken her by surprise. In truth, she still hadn’t realized how successful he was until he’d insisted that she meet with his accountant before they married so that she’d know exactly what she was marrying into. Turned out she was marrying a man who was on track to becoming a billionaire within the next five to seven years.
Yeah. Billion. Aire.
Trudy’s mouth went dry and she struggled to swallow. The fact that Levi had amassed such wealth still stunned her. And his insistence that she spend the money how she saw fit floored her. He was one of the most generous human beings she’d ever known.
“I hope we weren’t too obvious and made your parents uncomfortable,” Dixie said, breaking into Trudy’s musings. She caught Trudy’s gaze in the rearview mirror and smiled.
“It’s always awkward being shadowed,” Trudy said. “But it’s not your fault. It’s how it is, I suppose. Levi keeps telling me that I have to get used to it.”
“Just think of us as a safety net.”
“Right.” She said no more since it was pointless. It didn’t matter what she thought about having security following her; it was her new normal. She glanced through her email and texts to make sure none were from Levi or needed immediate attention and then slipped the phone into her purse. Settling back in the leather upholstery, she watched tree-lined streets and small, pretty houses rush past. She used to live in such a house and she’d been so proud to call it hers. Now her cousin lived there and paid her rent. Before she’d married Levi, he’d paid off her mortgage on the house and all of her student loans – all without any discussion. He’d just done it and then told her about it. Typical Levi Wolfe. Why argue or debate when he could take charge and make something happen and get his way?
Her stomach muscles quivered and then it felt as if her stomach floated free for a few moments. A coppery, burning taste coated the back of her throat and her vision became fuzzy around the edges. Trudy tensed, realizing what was happening. Someone was trying to take over her thoughts.
“Dixie.” Her voice came out a little breathless, a little shaky.
“Yes, ma’am?”
Trudy swallowed the horrid taste in her mouth and forced herself to focus. “You know I’m psychic and I go into trances sometimes and see things.”
Dixie’s gaze flickered to hers in the mirror and worry lines formed on her forehead. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to . . . that is, don’t worry about me. Just leave me alone. I’ll be okay. Got it?”
“Uh . . . yes, ma’am. Should I pull over and stop the car?”
She shook her head before allowing her eyes to close and her chin to dip down. A dark film oozed over her inner sight and coated her senses. She opened her eyes to verdant green. It took her a minute to realize that she was looking through branches of a bush or bushes, which she was crouched behind. It was late afternoon and long shadows painted the ground. She blinked, staring through the break in the foliage at the white and black car parked a few feet from her. A man emerged from it. A tall, rangy man wearing boots, jeans, a western-cut shirt, but no hat. His hair was jet black, longish, with sideburns. He glanced around and she ducked further back into the shadows of trees and bushes. The area where he’d parked his car was a look-out off the highway. A place to view the valley below and the distant, rolling hills.
Near her a crow cawed loudly, brashly, then flew from branch to branch above her with easy effort and a flash of blue-black wings. In front of her, the man surveyed the area, turning slightly from side to side. As he faced in her direction, her heart stuttered to a standstill for a few moments before reviving its normal pace.
Sheriff Rocknell.
She could see the badge attached to his tooled leather belt as he propped his hands at his waist and watched a hawk glide across the patch of blue above him. He left the car door open and the engine idling as he sauntered to the knee-high railing. That’s when she noticed that the rail was bent out, mangled, broken in two. Was he there to inspect it? To determine what had caused it?
Go on. Go to the edge, damn it!
Feelings, not her own, engulfed her, overpowered her, and Trudy slipped farther under until she all but disappeared. He was there because she had called him, disguised her voice, told him that she’d witnessed a car drive off a cliff on Highway 62. She’d mangled the railing to make him believe it. Nervous excitement charged her blood, creating a strong, pulsing, white noise in her ears. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans and held her breath as the sheriff took a step past the broken rail and stopped at the edge of the cliff to look down the rocky, steep face.
Now!
She bolted for the car. Slipping into the driver’s seat, she slammed the car into drive and gunned it. Billy whirled around, but too late. Rocking sideways, she fell out of the car and the ground came up hard. So hard that it knocked the breath out of her. For a few moments, she blacked out, but then her lungs sucked in air and her vision cleared. Bits of sharp-edged rocks bit into her palms. With a groan, she struggled to her feet. The car was gone. She heard it bouncing and thrashing through the trees. Slowly but eagerly, she stumbled toward the edge. At first, all she could see were clouds of dirt, but they cleared enough for her to spot the gnarled, dented metal of the police cruiser far below. It had come to rest on its side, its wheels spinning, the rear windshield gone. She narrowed her eyes, looking for his body, but there was too much brush and rocky crags to get a good look at anything. He could be anywhere down there.
He’s dead, though. That’s the good news.
With a throaty chuckle, she waved down at the crumpled car. “See ya’, Rockabilly!”
Elation and relief chased each other through her, making her feel young and giddy. She threw up her arms and danced a little jig, moving in a circle, laug
hing up at the sky. A car whizzed by on the highway, disturbing her celebration and jarring her into realizing that she needed to get away from the area – and fast. No one could see her here!
With a last peer down the rocky outcroppings in hopes of spying the sheriff’s dead body and failing, she pivoted and darted for the woods that flanked the highway. Staying in their cool, concealing shadows, she picked her way around clumps of thickets and poison ivy and made her way a half mile to where she’d left her car.
She sat in a small clearing, wondering when the sheriff would be missed. How long would it take his dumb ass deputies to realize that Sheriff Rocknell wasn’t answering his radio or cellphone?
That’s the problem with police. They have inquisitive minds. Even Rockabilly. He wasn’t as dense as she’d assumed. Surprising how he’d figured it all out. Had to hand it to him. He was sharper than he looked and a helluva lot smarter than those police clones. Maybe he was clairvoyant!
She laughed at that, enjoying the notion of Billy telling fortunes, making predictions, and talking to ghosts.
Sadly, or rather, gladly, Billy wouldn’t be doing any such thing. All he’d be doing was pushing up daisies in Eureka Springs’ cemetery once they located his busted up carcass.
Smothering a giggle, she wanted to hug herself. It felt so damned good to be rid of people who were burdens, problems, hurtful, and embarrassing. That was real power.
With a bouncy step, she left the towering trees and the smell of pine needles and moss and went to her car. She fired up the engine and music blasted from the speakers.
The universe is gonna getcha, baby. ‘Cause bad karma’s a bitch!
The world went black like a TV screen being switched off, but then switched right back on to a different channel, a different program. Colors blasted her eyelids. Trudy grimaced and then coughed from the taste of copper that coated the roof of her mouth. Slowly, she opened her eyes to slits. Dixie Beech’s worried expression filled her vision.
“You back with me, Mrs. Wolfe?”
Trudy cleared her throat and tried to wipe the fuzz balls from her mind before she answered. Her voice came out weak and wobbly. “Yes, thank you, Dixie. I hope I didn’t scare you.”