Wild Blue Mysteries Boxed Set

by Diane Bator

  Leo had never been so drawn to a painting in his life. After a little research, he walked across the street toward The Tipsy Duck just after nine o’clock that night and ordered green tea. He joined Clancy in a corner booth. “What’s up?”

  “I need your help.” Clancy sighed. “Dad called from Florida. There was some hurricane damage in the house down there last week and he has to get repairs done before he can put it on the market.”

  Leo narrowed his eyes. “And you need me to do what exactly? I’m not a big fan of settling family disputes.”

  “It’s not that.” Clancy shook his head. “I need to keep Christina here longer, but I don’t know how. I need you to turn on the charm or something. Make her want to stay until he comes back and we can deal with the bakery.”

  “You want me to charm your sister?” Leo chuckled as a scantily dressed blonde sidle past the table and smiled. “Sorry, Bro, I’m a detective, not a gigolo.”

  Clancy took a long pull from his beer. “I know, but I’m desperate. I don’t want to see the bakery close either. Mom worked so hard to start it and make it what it is. I don’t want to see my sister walk away from something she’s so good at.”

  “What about what Christina wants?” Leo asked. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

  “I’m not sure.” Clancy sighed, his gaze on his drink. “Leo, I think Christina might be in trouble. I have a feeling she can’t go back to Newville anyway.”

  Leo’s scalp tingled. “Why would you say that?”

  “I got a call from the police while I was closing up the shop.” He paused when the waitress brought Leo’s teapot and a mug. “They want me to go to the police station in the morning to talk to an officer. I’m not sure what’s going on. They asked if I knew Christina and said they needed me to make a statement. Does that sound right to you?”

  “They didn’t happen tell you why, did they?”

  “Nothing and I can’t get hold of Christina.” He rubbed his jaw. “The bakery was locked up and she’s not answering her phone or the door. I even threatened to kick the door down. She must’ve gone out somewhere, which isn’t like her either since she hates everyone here.”

  Leo leaned his elbows on the table. “Look, Clancy, if you want me to help, you have to tell me everything.”

  Clancy placed a manila envelope on the table. “I wrote down everything I could find. I even went back to the house and found an old address and a phone number. The only number I ever had was for her cell phone.”

  “You never went to visit her?” He narrowed his eyes.

  Clancy picked at the label on his bottle and blew out a breath. “A couple years ago, she hit Mom and Dad up for a lump of money for a few extra courses to get her degree. I told her I didn’t believe her and that she should get off her sorry butt and get a real job.”

  Leo winced. “Ouch. I take it she didn’t like your advice.”

  “It wasn’t that.” Clancy sighed. “I know she was trying. I overheard her telling Mom how in debt she was and how much she owed someone. She sounded so much like Dad I lost my temper on her. She’s my little sister and really didn’t want to see her crash and burn.”

  “She owed someone money?” The back of Leo’s neck prickled. “Who?”

  “I don’t know. I never heard a name. Of course, I never asked either.”

  “So she got into some trouble,” Leo said. “Did she get out of it?”

  “I don’t know.” His shoulders sagged. “She and Dad had always had issues and I know it killed her to ask for help, but she seemed to expect them to dig her out of a hole when they were struggling to pay their own bills.”

  Leo sipped his tea. “So what is it you expect me to do? I can’t justify digging into her financial records or anything else without good reason. We’d need a dead body or a smoking gun or something. If you’re worried about her making her way in life, there’s not a lot I can do. I’m not a guidance counselor.”

  “I just can’t shake the feeling there may be a dead body or a smoking gun,” Clancy said. “Why else would the police call me?”

  A strong wave of nausea swept over Leo. Was Christina connected to the dead artist in Newville? He sat back and checked his phone then sent off a quick text to Danny before he stuck the phone back into his pocket. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go through what you gave me, but you have to call me after you leave the police station tomorrow. It’s probably just a traffic violation or mistaken identity or something.”

  Clancy waved to the waitress for another beer. “You think so?”

  “These things happen all the time. Let me do some digging. I’ll make sure there’s nothing to worry about.” Leo hesitated, longing to take another look at the photos Danny had sent. If Christina was involved in any way with Gage, she could be into anything.

  “How’s your arm?” Clancy nodded to his tattoo.

  He grinned. “Hurts like hell, but it looks amazing.”

  “Did you show Chrissie yet?” Clancy sipped his drink. “She mentioned you were in the bakery this morning when Lucy came in. Actually, I think she was a bit jealous.”

  Leo sat back. “You know as well as I do Lucy Stephens is a writer with three kids and a chip on her shoulder bigger than Lake Superior. She’s also got that lunatic ex-husband—”

  “And she’s my girlfriend, not yours.” Clancy raised his beer. “Well, I’d like her to be, but she’s still a bit nervous about the whole dating thing. Did Danny show you the tiger I did on his right arm? I did a nice job, if I do say so.”

  “Which is why I come to you for all my artwork.” Leo yawned. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna cut out early on you. I have some research to do and phone calls to make. Let me know if you hear more from the police or Christina.”

  Leo didn’t go to his apartment. Instead, he headed to the bakery and climbed the stairs to Christina’s apartment and knocked on the door. He’d never taken this approach with anyone he was checking out before. Of course, Christina wasn’t exactly like anyone he’d ever met before and enjoyed checking her out in person.

  Christina answered the door, her hair wet. She wore thin black yoga pants and a long purple sweater. Despite taking a shower, the scent of cookies still clung to her like a dizzying perfume. “What the hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me?”

  “No, your brother sent me.” He examined her from head to toe, drinking in every detail, every curve. If he valued his sanity, he’d run for the mountains of Tibet. Stupidly, he stood his ground. “He wants to know why you won’t tell him about your life in Newville.”

  Her eyes widened. “What?”

  “He thinks you have some huge secret you’re not telling him and wants me to find out more about you.” Leo leaned in the doorway. “I had a hunch the direct approach would be best with you.”

  “You’re nuts.” She pushed the door shut.

  He nudged the door and barged into the apartment, not surprised by the sparse decorating job and the thrift shop furniture. “Lovely home you have.”

  “It’s not mine, it’s Clancy’s. I’m just staying here while I look after the bakery. As soon as my dad gets back from Florida, I’m out of here.” She followed him toward the large window facing the back alley. “Not much of a view except on trash day.”

  “Better than mine. I face Christmas Town.” He glanced at a novel sitting on the blue armchair. A thriller. Something Clancy would read. Aside from a duffle bag near the bathroom, there didn’t seem to be anything of hers in the apartment at all. “At least you have a short commute to work.”

  Christina laughed then covered her mouth. “If you’re done interrogating me, you can leave. I have things to do.”

  “Like what?” When he grabbed her hand, his heart raced. Stupid move number two, the first was coming upstairs and being alone with her. “Certainly not your nails. Your hair’s already washed so that’s out.”

  She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. “Great, we’ve established I can groom
myself. Anything else you want to know? Shoe size? Bra size? What’s on my Christmas wish list?”

  Short of breath, he narrowed the gap between them, so close he could kiss her. “That would be a fun start. What if I said all of the above?”

  Christina smacked his arm. “Then you can go right back and tell Brady I don’t want to play his game anymore.”

  “Brady?” Those gray eyes and her slip of a name took his breath away. “Who’s Brady?”

  Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened. “I said Clancy.”

  “No, I’m pretty sure you didn’t.” He closed the gap between them. “So who’s Brady?”

  She nudged past him to open the door. “If you’re done casing the joint, you can get out.”

  Leo brushed past her, a little alarm bell going off in his head. “Listen, babe. If you’re in trouble and need some help, I’m the right guy to talk to. I know people who can help you out of whatever’s going on.”

  “I don’t need anybody’s help, especially yours.” Her nostrils flared and she literally pushed him out the door. “Good night, Leo Blue.”

  He turned and grabbed her arms, pulling her so close the scent of cookies made his legs weak. Why the hell hadn’t he fled to Tibet when he still stood a chance? “Christina, your brother’s worried about you.”

  “Whatever.” She tried to shake his hands off her arms.

  Leo refused to let her go. “Now I’m worried about you.”

  Christina’s face tightened until he was sure she’d start to either yell at him or cry. “You don’t even know me. Trust me you don’t want to know me. I’m not worth it.”

  “But Clancy knows you, and he seems to think you’re worth his time. You’re not alone, babe. Don’t ever forget that.” He nodded and loosened his grip even though all he wanted was pull her close and kiss her until they both dropped to the floor. “Good night, Christina.”

  Leo left before he acted on impulse and did anything stupid. He had to get back to the paperwork Danny gave him to research. The name she’d said—Brady—meant something to the Gage case. The more he talked to Christina, the stronger his hunch grew that she was directly involved with Gage and the model. Damn, what was the guy’s name? He ran back to his apartment and prayed he could prove Christina was in Packham the whole time and had nothing to do with the artist’s death.

  Chapter 6

  Gage was dead and Brady was charged with murder. Christina’s alter ego, Rose Ryan, could no longer exist now that Christina was stuck in the outer reaches of Hell, also known as Packham, kneading bread dough with shaking hands. After Leo left, she called a cab then hung out at the local police station—not by choice—until three o’clock that morning.

  “How well did you know Mr. Gage?” Detective Wallis came from Newville and seemed to have condemned Christina before they’d even met.

  “He was my lover.” Christina stared at the table top, unwilling to meet the detective’s gaze.

  “So I’ve heard. How did you meet?”

  She blew out a breath. “He was an artist. I was a model. Rose was my...professional name. Gage taught a class I modeled for and wanted me to pose for him. So I did.”

  Detective Wallis brushed back her short blonde hair. “And?”

  Christina wiped her tired eyes. “And I needed the money, so I posed. Gage paid me well. Granted, I had to sit in a studio so cold and damp I actually got pneumonia, but he knew how to nurse me back to health.”

  The detective shifted in her seat. “Did you love him?”

  Christina didn’t bother to skirt around the questions. “He was what I wanted at the time.”

  “What about Brady Ryan?”

  Brady. Her former best friend turned manipulative husband. “What about Brady?”

  Detective Wallis leaned forward. “What do you know about him?”

  “Way too much.” Christina wrapped her arms around her torso.

  By the time she returned to Clancy’s apartment, there was no point in going to bed. Her body was exhausted, but her brain was in overdrive. She went straight to work to knead and to think. Neither one went all that well.

  Gage had been her best-kept secret, or so she’d thought. He was exciting, creative, and a wild man in bed. Brady was boring in comparison, but was her safety net. Until he’d figured out how to play her. Would he really do something so drastic?

  She needed to walk or run, something more substantial and physical than baking cookies. Scraping the dough from her hands, she paced the kitchen. There were so many questions no one at the police station could answer. Sure they’d promised to set up a call for her to talk to Brady, but she needed to know what happened and why. The police seemed just as keen for the same answers.

  Christina walked past the doorway to the store front and realized there were lights blazing. Since she’d come in through the back door absorbed in misery, she hadn’t noticed anything amiss. She rubbed her burning eyes and blinked furiously, but the decorations were still there. When she pinched her arm, it hurt. Awake and hallucinating wasn’t a good combination. She desperately needed a strong cup of Earl Grey with lemon.

  Draping her sweater over a stool, she crept closer to the counter. Strands of garland and glittering snowflakes adorned the walls and the front window was framed with twinkling lights and delicate lace snowflakes made of clear plastic. In the midst of it all, stood a six-foot, Scotch pine Christmas tree aglow with tiny white lights. She touched the soft garland, the thick, expensive kind her mother had convinced her to buy for her own first pathetic tree.

  A feathered fake bird perched above an envelope propped on a branch near the middle of the tree. Christina opened the envelope and withdrew a plain red card. The printing was neat. Careful. “On the first day of Christmas, someone gave to me, a partridge in a lit up fir tree.”

  “You don’t look like a partridge to me. More like a chickadee.” Christina looked around the store warily then turned to the bird and she stroked its feathers. At least the bird’s lack of response confirmed she wasn’t crazy. Yet.

  The decorations were pretty, but the thought someone had broken into the bakery while she was at the police station bothered her. Nothing else was out of place and all the doors and windows were intact.

  Clancy was the only other person in town with a key.

  She groaned and stuck the note and envelope into a drawer. Why couldn’t he leave her alone to wallow in misery? As she mixed and kneaded, she made a mental checklist of ways to get even with Clancy. The back door handle jiggled when she got to number seventy-three, with one or two repeats of her favorites.

  “Go away.” Christina didn’t bother to keep the anger out of her voice.

  “I brought tea.” Clancy taunted her. “Rooibos.”

  Bribery would get him everywhere, especially at five in the morning. Christina frowned as cold air swirled into the bakery behind him, accompanied by thick snowflakes that made her shiver. She was so tired coming down the stairs earlier she hadn’t noticed the cold or the snow.

  “G’day mate.” Clancy handed her a large mug. “Ooh, the oven’s heating up, it feels like Australia in here. I knew this was the right place to come.”

  “Only if you don’t get stuffed into one.” Despite being grateful for the tea, she wished he’d leave. “Good morning to you too. Thank you for everything you did, by the way.”

  “Me?” He narrowed his eyes. “What did I do?”

  Christina dragged him into the store front. “Did you forget already? That must’ve taken half the night just to set up.”

  Clancy whistled. “Nice tree. Where’d all that come from?”

  “Oh, stop pretending, I know it was you.” She scowled. “Except for me, you’re the only person in town who has a key.”

  He shrugged. “I wish I could take credit, it looks great. You really don’t know who set everything up?”

  She shook her head and opened the drawer. “There was a note, but it wasn’t signed.”

  Clancy studied th
e note. His mouth twitched then he shook his head. “I don’t know who did this, but it sounds like I’d better get my Christmas shopping done. There’s only twelve days left according to the note.”

  “Great.” As if the stress of the holidays and the shop wasn’t enough, worrying about Brady and an intruder in the bakery was going to eat her alive. She ran to the bathroom, her stomach aching.

  “You never were graceful under fire.” Clancy quipped once she’d returned to mixing bread dough. “Did you ever get checked out for celiac disease or Crohn’s?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yeah, I noticed.” He slid onto a stool. “I got a call from a cop. They asked if I knew a woman named Rose Ryan.”

  Christina forced in a breath. “And do you?”

  “No.”

  “Then I guess they called you for nothing.” She swallowed hard.

  “You don’t happen to know anyone by that name, do you?”

  She clenched her jaw. “Nope.”

  Clancy sighed. “This is me you’re talking to, Christina. I’ve known you our entire lives. I don’t know what you’re hiding, but one day all your secrets will explode in your face.” He took his coffee cup and strode out the back door.

  Christina closed her eyes, then turned on the mixer to drown out the world.

  “Yoo-hoo,” someone called from the front of the store around nine-thirty. “Are you still here, Krista?”

  “My name is Christina, and yes, I’m here.” She washed her hands then approached Sophie warily and winced. “What happened? You didn’t come in to work again today and you haven’t answered your phone. Is everything okay?”

  “I’m fabulous.” Sophie smiled, a precursor to bad news. “Remember I told you I was getting a divorce? Well, I went to the court house and my ex showed up with an old friend of ours. Hubby got the divorce and I got a date with his single friend.” She sang with such enthusiasm it made Christina nauseous.