by Emmy Grace
He doesn’t say anything, just stares down at me.
“Liam? Who’s this?”
It’s a woman’s voice, and it belongs to probably the prettiest one I think I’ve ever seen in real life. Even prettier than Vampira, Liam’s “friend” and restaurant owner.
All I can think is Please, God, let her be related to Liam.
She’s tall and wisp-thin, but still curvy in her fitted slacks and blouse. Her hair is long and dark and wavy, and her face has an island-exoticness to it that I could stare at for days. Her eyes are light and not the least bit malicious as she looks on from a few feet away.
“She’s a friend. A troubled friend.”
I give him a scrunch of my face before I move around him and head for the brunette, hand extended.
“Hi, I’m Lucky. I’m so sorry to barge in.”
“You mean break in,” Liam adds from behind me.
I laugh and wave him off. “Just ignore him. He’s like a bear that’s been roused from hibernation too early.”
The woman’s lips tilt at the corners. “I can see that.”
“You must be his cousin?” My tone is hopeful. It’s too much to ask that he has a sister no one knows anything about, so I’ll take cousin. That’s the next best thing.
Her laugh is a delicate tinkle. I make a mental note never to laugh-snort again. I sound like a honking goose compared to this.
“No, we aren’t related.” She looks past me, her eyes gleaming. “Are we, Liam?”
“Not hardly,” he replies derisively.
“I’m Leia,” the woman says. “Leia Flynn. Liam and I used to date, way back when.”
Sweet Mary.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
This is the ex girlfriend?
This tall, flawless bombshell that’s towering over me?
And her name is Leia? Really? As in Princess Leia?
I’ve never felt more insecure. My hair is hanging wetly around my face, everything on my person is dripping, and there’s a good chance I look like a mentally ill raccoon where my mascara has run.
Of course, there’s also a good chance that redness and swelling has already begun around my eyes from being gouged with goggles. I’m not sure which would look worse.
Either way, I’m far from impressive at this point.
Far, far, far.
“Oh. Uh, it’s nice to meet you.”
It’s not.
At all.
She’s perfect and I’m…Lucky.
“You as well. I don’t believe I’ve heard Liam mention you before.”
“Well, we’re more of a recent thing,” I explain with a shrug.
“A recent thing?” Her eyes dart up at Liam, whom I can feel has moved in close to my back to hulk over me.
“Not that kind of ‘thing’,” Liam clarifies.
I want to glower over my shoulder at him, but it wouldn’t be appropriate. Or justified. Because we aren’t that kind of thing. Even though I’ve met the one man who’s immune to my charms. All of them. So, technically we could be that kind of thing.
But we aren’t.
And that’s probably a good thing.
Right?
Right.
These are questions to ponder another day, though. Right now, I have queries of a different sort. And I need to ask them before I let this woman fluster me any more than she already has.
I’m practically a drooling idiot at this point. If things get much worse, I could end up sucking my thumb and seeing cartoon birds.
“I followed Liam here because I’m looking into Dahlia Hayes. You two were best friends in school, right?”
A frown flickers across her forehead. It’s brief, fleeting, like a shooting star, but I still see it.
Botox can’t hide everything, sweetheart.
“Liam told me what happened. I still…I can’t believe it.” She presses a hand to her chest in distress. Oddly, though, her expression doesn’t quite line up. “I’m all to pieces.”
“Are you?”
The frown flickers again. It happens right between her perfectly arched brows. It’s similar to the enormous dent that appears between Liam’s; only Leia’s is like an apparition. There and gone, leaving behind smooth skin like it wasn’t even there.
Man, these are some frowning people. Maybe they learned it in high school. Part of the Salty Springs curriculum.
Frowning 101.
Introduction to Disapproving Expressions, Section II.
“Of course I am. We weren’t as close as we were in high school, but we were still good friends. She was as happy as could be the last time we saw her, wasn’t she, Liam? And that was just a few weeks ago.”
Stop the press!
A few weeks ago?
Liam has been meeting up with his ex girlfriend and the girl he had a crush on in high school? How could I not know about this?
I stare blankly at her as I process this information.
Then it occurs to me.
I know exactly how I don’t know about this. Liam and I have a strictly professional relationship, that’s why. I know nothing about what he does in his spare time. Although, in my defense, I didn’t think he had that much. Apart from keeping up with his farm, he’s with me a lot. Like a lot.
But not so much that he can’t have other relationships, evidently.
It takes me a beat, but I finally recover. “Was that the last time you saw her?”
“Yes. It was.”
“And she didn’t mention that anything was wrong? She didn’t seem off at all?”
“Not even a little bit. She was ecstatic to be getting married. I’d never seen her so thrilled. And now…this.”
She shakes her head in shock, but I’m going to call it mock shock, because I still don’t believe for one second that this woman is sad to learn that her friend is dead. And I don’t think it’s that I just want to see insincerity in her either. My lucky gut is flopping around like a fish out of water.
Something isn’t right with this woman, and I’m going to find out what it is.
I turn to glance back at Liam. He must’ve been watching Leia over my head, but when I turned around, his eyes dart down. They lock with mine. In them is not one iota of suspicion.
Looks like I’m going to be on my own investigating Princess Liar here.
I give him a small smile then swivel my head back to Leia and give her one, too.
“Well, I’m sorry to barge in on your date. I promise you my intentions were good.” I square my shoulders and put on my most responsible face. “I want you to know that I’ll do everything I can to bring justice to your friend.”
“I appreciate that.”
“I guess I’ll be going then.” I nod and start to walk around her. It takes about two seconds for me to realize that I have no idea where I’m going. And I’m sopping wet, so I can’t very well go through the house. “Uh, if you could just point me in the direction of a gate, I’ll be out of your hair.”
“I’ll take you,” says Liam, stepping forward to wrap his fingers around my upper arm. He guides me around the pool. I don’t turn when he speaks to Leia. “I’ll call you later.”
“I look forward to it,” she says, to which I want to make a barfing sound.
Then karate chop her throat.
Then push her in the pool.
But I don’t.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what they call self-control.
I haz it.
Occasionally, at least.
When Liam leads me through a cleverly concealed gate in the fence and latches it behind us, I yank my arm free.
“I can walk unassisted, thank you very much.”
“I wasn’t assisting you. I was trying to make sure you didn’t end up back in the pool or back in the bushes.”
“How do you know I was in the bushes?” I ask indignantly.
He reaches forward to pull a sprig of something from my wet hair.
No words necessary.
&nbs
p; “Well, I wouldn’t have been in either if you had just agreed to let me help. Although now I can see why you didn’t.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You clearly still have a thing with Princess Liar.”
“Leia,” he corrects.
I jerk to a stop. “Leia? Really? Her name is Leia? Leia and Liam. You two only had to add a pause to get your celebrity name. Lay-um. It’s disgusting,” I snarl and resume my grand exodus.
Okay, I might be a teensy bit unnerved by Liam’s ex.
Might be.
“What’s gotten into you?”
“Not one thing,” I sniff. “I just think it’s a conflict of interest that you’re even here, but you do what you want. I’ll just in town, investigating all the suspects.”
“Are you insinuating you think Leia is somehow involved?”
“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m just saying that I will follow the facts. Just the facts. Nothing else.”
“My judgment isn’t clouded if that’s what you’re saying.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
“But you insinuated that, too.”
I shrug. “If the shoe fits…”
“The shoes you dream up never fit me, or have you not learned that yet?”
“I don’t mean physical shoes, although the boots for your circus disguise were perfect.”
“Neither do I. You’re always making assumptions about me, and they’re usually wrong. I mean those kinds of shoes.”
I spin toward him. “Name one time.”
“Tonight. You assumed I didn’t know you were following me, but I saw Regina behind me before I got a hundred yards from my driveway.”
“Then why were you so surprised to see me in the pool?” I nod accusingly, jabbing a finger at him. “Ah-ha! Gotcha.”
“Why would I not be surprised to find you in my ex-girlfriend’s pool, in the middle of the night, fully clothed, wearing night vision goggles?”
I take a deep breath and sputter defensively for a few seconds before I settle on petulance. Stick with what you’re good at, right? “You and your stupid logic. You infuriate me.”
“Only because I’m right. That seems to bend you out of shape worse than anything else.”
“You bend me out of shape, Liam Dunning. You!”
We’re standing nearly nose-to-nose, me fuming and him completely unflustered. He puts his hands on his hips and studies me. “And why is that, do you think? Why do I get under your skin so badly?”
“Because you’re the most aggravating man on the planet.”
“Uh-huh.” His mumble is doubtful.
“It’s true. Ask anyone. Except her, I mean.” I add the last for clarity. “Clearly, she’s biased.”
“I think you’re making too much of that. We both moved on a long time ago.”
“Is that right? Then why have you been seeing her all of a sudden? Don’t you think that’s a little bit of a coincidence?”
“No. She and Dahlia were chair and co-chair of the prom committee our senior year, which means they head up all the class reunions. It’s been fifteen years and they were trying to get me to come to the reunion they’re planning for next month.”
“Convenient,” I retort, although that does take quite a bit of the wind out of my sails.
“There’s nothing amiss here, Lucky. Just admit you were wrong.”
I pull back my shoulders and throw up my chin. “Never.”
I spin on my heel and stalk off toward the driveway. I hear Liam say, “Rational as always.”
I don’t respond and don’t turn around. I’m too irritated. And I’m sporting an insane wedgie. I just want to get home, dig my drawers out of my butt, get dry, and regroup.
I’ve trudged nearly to the bottom of the drive when Liam’s truck comes roaring up behind me. The gate clicks and the two panels start to move slowly apart. I can squeeze through them long before Liam can get his gargantuan truck through, so I do.
I’m done talking to Professor Calm-and-Right tonight.
I’m flouncing by Regina’s car when I hear her voice through her still-open window. “I thought you were going to call me.”
Without pausing, I take my dripping phone out of my dripping pocket, hold it up for her to see, and just keep right on walking toward my car.
Her amused words follow along behind me. “I smell a Lucky story in the air.”
10
A bone-chilling scream wakes me from a dead sleep.
I sit straight up in bed, every hair on my body standing at attention.
Gumbo makes a single petrified squeal and Mr. Jingles barks at him. I cringe, waiting for Lucy-fur to growl and jump on Gator’s cage and start the merry-go-round of animal sounds, but that never happens.
How peculiar.
Once my heart settles down, I go out to the kitchen. The first thing I see is Fred’s head poking through the dog door. The second thing I see is Lucy-fur sitting about a foot in front of him. She’s bowed up like one side of the McDonald’s arches, and she looks absolutely furious.
Something tells me that, although Fred does scream for no reason a lot of the time, my cat had everything to do with this one. He probably stuck his head inside, like he’s prone to do, and stumbled upon Lucy getting a drink of water. My guess is that she swatted at his nose, and, by the sound of it, made good, firm contact.
“What’s going on in here?” I ask.
Lucy-fur turns her bright green eyes toward me, but just for a second. She looks back at Fred as she slowly unbows to walk toward me, like she’s watching her six.
I can see the streak of short, ruffled fur on Fred’s nose, though, so I doubt he’ll be messing with my devil cat anytime soon.
I scoop up Lucy and then bend to give Fred’s head a scratch before I shoo him back out the door. “I’ll bring you something tasty in a minute. Go be a good boy.”
He backs out into the sunny yard and just stands there, staring at me through the door. About three feet behind him is Ethel. She’s still lying on the ground, no doubt having fainted when Fred screamed.
I chuckle to myself as I go about getting morning meals ready for the herd. Lucy is sitting contentedly in the corner, lapping up her rare treat of fresh milk when I hear someone knock at the front door.
I can immediately rule out Liam. Unless both his arms are broken and he is trying to knock with a foot, it’s not him. He’d never rap so gently.
In the absence of Liam, the most likely suspects include Regina, Suzie Lynn, or Miss Haddy. Mrs. Snuffleupagus has a more aggressive knock, too. Just not as bad as Liam’s.
I peek through the window before I open the door and greet Miss Haddy and her great niece (and my friend), Suzie Lynn. Suzie is yawning and Miss Haddy is holding a platter covered in cheerful green plastic wrap.
“Good morning! What are you two doing out and about so early?”
Suzie hikes an accusing thumb at Miss Haddy. “Blame her. Apparently, she doesn’t sleep.”
Miss Haddy’s rosy cheeks plump up with her grin. “When you’re as old as I am, you don’t want to spend your precious minutes doing something like sleeping.”
Along with being the sweetest Godfather-type figure in the history of film or human existence, Miss Haddy is also the oldest resident of Salty Springs, coming in at one hundred and two whole years. The fact that she’s still upright is a rarity on its own, but her verve, her sharp mind, and her fluffy physique practically make her a miracle.
“She doesn’t remember that other people still really enjoy it,” Suzie rejoins with a gentle, good-natured elbow to her aunt’s arm.
“If you girls can’t keep up with an old woman, there’s something wrong, I tell ya.”
“You’re not just any old woman, though, Miss Haddy. You’re like Wonder Woman: The Ancient Years.”
She chortles and her belly jostles inside her rust-colored all-weather coat. “You’re just sharp as a tack, aren’t you, sugar?” She shakes her head and then a
sks, “Mind if we come in? I brought you some fried Twinkies.”
She peels back the plastic wrap and a whiff of deep fried sweetness wafts up to my nose.
“You know the way to my heart, Miss Haddy,” I confess, taking the proffered plate and stepping back to allow them to enter. “I’ll make some coffee.”
The two women take seats at the table while I dish out a Twinkie on each of three saucers and pour some fresh coffee. No one says anything until we’ve all had and adequately savored that first delicious bite.
“Heaven,” Suzie says.
“Mmmm mmmm mmmm,” Miss Haddy mumbles.
I just groan and close my eyes as sugar melts on my tongue. I’m already three bites in compared with their one.
Lightweights.
“So, what brings y’all around this morning?”
I don’t add that I’m almost afraid to ask. A visit from Miss Haddy is never purely social. At least not that I’ve experienced up to this point.
“Holiday plans and all. It’s about time to get cracking.”
“It’s the week of Thanksgiving. Isn’t that a little early to start?”
Suzie and Miss Haddy look at each other and start laughing. “Sugar, me and Suzie started our list after Labor Day. It’s never too early to start holiday planning. Didn’t your momma teach you that?”
“My momma didn’t teach me much, actually,” I mutter.
“Oh, sugar, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
For just a heartbeat, I forgot that these people don’t know me. Not very well anyway. They don’t know my history. And today’s not the day to tell them.
I try to make my smile bright. “It’s okay. That was a long time ago.”
Miss Haddy’s paper-thin skin shifts into a cascade of concerned wrinkles. “You wanna talk about it?”
“I’d much rather talk about holiday plans,” I offer instead.
“Okay, but if you change your mind…”
I reach out and put my hand over Miss Haddy’s. “Thank you.”
“You’re like family to us, so you just consider yourself invited to my house for Thanksgiving and for Christmas. That pretty Regina, too. Both of you are like daughters I never had.”
“Hey!” Suzie teases with mock distress. “What am I? Chopped liver?”