by Julie Chase
“I was thinking,” Willow said. “Of those twenty suspects, who has the most to lose?”
“What do you mean?” I said.
Jack shifted his weight and pressed his palms against his hips, apparently also waiting for the answer.
She cocked her lips to the side for a long beat. “It’s been my experience that most people are selfish. They want things for themselves and don’t care what happens to the people around them as long as they get what they want. The money, the glory, the girl. I suppose it comes down to pride,” she said. “My mama always said pride was both powerful and delicate. Some folks will do anything to increase theirs; others will stop at nothing to protect theirs.”
I considered her take. “She’s not wrong,” I told Jack. My pride was fragile, and I’d gone out of my way to protect it many times. Maybe there had been an issue of pride happening between a pet owner and Viktor, or maybe someone just needed a win for all they’d given up. “It could be one of the pet owners,” I said. “Some of them have sacrificed everything to be here, and they’ll lose even more if they’re put in jail for murder.”
Willow nodded along. “And you just keep coming for them, which gives them strong motive to dissuade you.”
“It could also be a PA,” I said. “Viktor belittled them regularly.” A powerful hit to their pride. “Veronica.” I touched Jack’s arm. “Veronica sent compromising pictures of herself to Viktor, and he rejected her.”
Jack nodded. “I’ve been looking into her.”
“Did you find her emailed photos?” I asked.
He glanced at Henri, then back to me. “Yeah, along with some follow-up correspondence. Veronica didn’t like being ignored.”
I bit into another cookie and chewed. Pride. A motive for murder I’d never even considered.
Henri swirled scotch in a plastic cup and gave Jack a pointed look. “Tomorrow’s my day off. Why don’t I meet you up here and help you review the notes on the original interviews and statements for the pet owners who were here tonight? Maybe talk to the handful of PAs and crew on the guest list,” he said. “I’ll follow up with Veronica too. I saw her when we got here, but I don’t remember talking to her at the end. Which means she left before the cake was uncovered.”
Not good, I thought. Veronica had had access to the cake when it was still in the stockroom, then vanished before the big unveiling. She’d seen me outside Viktor’s dressing room immediately after his murder. She’d been questioned by Jack and me. She knew I was hunting down leads. Maybe she thought I was on to her.
Jack shook Henri’s hand. “Thanks, man.”
“You know I love to get the bad guys,” Henri said, “and someone’s got to protect your girl.” He winked at me.
My cheeks heated. The first time I’d met Henri, he’d called me Jack’s girl. Jack hadn’t argued then either.
“Do you want to get out of here?” Willow asked. “The party was really something, but I’m ready for a walk under the stars.”
I locked up as we moved onto the sidewalk. Rune was seated on the bench outside Furry Godmother. He wound immediately around Willow’s feet.
Warm summer wind blew my hair out like a cape behind me.
My dress was a different story. The form-fitting material clung to my skin from the strapless neckline to just above my knee. I’d chosen it for the simple lines that emphasized everything I still liked about my figure and forgave the things I didn’t, but it also turned out to be perfect for walking in a brewing storm.
Willow kissed Henri under a streetlight, and I headed in the other direction, enjoying the blustery night. Jack fell into step beside me.
“I love nights like these,” I said, watching wispy gray clouds skate across an inky black sky, a million visible stars twinkling around a broad white moon. The next gust of wind sent a shiver down my spine.
Jack slid his black suit jacket from his shoulders and draped it over mine. “I think I felt a raindrop. We can head back.”
“No.” I turned my head to inhale the scent of him in the jacket fabric. “I like the rain.”
“Me too,” he said, “and I love walking these streets, but I don’t spend enough time doing it. I’m always in a hurry somewhere.”
“Yeah. Same,” I said wistfully.
“When did we get so busy?” he asked.
I wasn’t sure, but I was determined to make the most of the time I had before the rains came. Who knew when I’d take the time to walk Magazine Street at night again?
I admired the stately homes and ancient oaks, the historic storefronts and iconic horse-head hitching posts, lined up like soldiers along the curb, all remnants of another time. Thanks to New Orleans’s continual efforts to preserve history and everything that made our town significant and beautiful, the scenery was slow to change. “I like to imagine some other couple walking this patch of sidewalk in a hundred years and having the same conversations we do, just like the couple that walked here one hundred years before us, and I especially love that the sights we all see will be largely the same.”
The back of Jack’s hand brushed against mine as we strode along. A moment later, his long fingers hooked on mine. I dared a look in his direction, and he held my stare as he turned his palm over to lace our fingers together. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” he asked.
I shook my head, unable to find my tongue.
“I think that dress is one of my new favorites.”
I wasn’t sure what to die about first. The fact that Jack Oliver was holding my hand under a full moon on Magazine Street, that he thought I was beautiful, or that he knew my wardrobe and had favorites.
Jack slowed outside a bustling café that smelled like my best dreams and had a solo artist singing “Stand by Me.” “In that story about the couples walking this street, you called us a couple,” he said.
I stopped with him to enjoy the song and think about how to respond. Busted came to mind.
Jack turned me to face him and caught my other hand in his, raising it to his shoulder and bringing me closer with the effort. He lowered his hand to the small of my back and began to lead me in a slow dance. Café patrons turned to watch. The vocalist sang a little louder. Across the street, Henri and Willow hooted, then began to dance too.
Laughter bubbled up from my chest and I buried my face in the fabric of Jack’s shirt for a long moment before pulling back to look at his deadly serious face. I didn’t know what was happening to my previously ruined night, or if it was the work of Willow’s cookies, but I didn’t care. I’d never had a perfect moment before, one I’d want to bottle up and keep forever so I could take it out to enjoy again and again, but this seemed like exactly that. My cheeks ached from the smile.
“So,” Jack said, leaning forward, cocooning us in a private little world as we danced. “You called us a couple in your story.”
“I did.”
“Why?” he asked. “Was it just because it fit the point you were making, or is that how you think of us?”
“It’s how I think of us,” I admitted, then laughed at my sudden candor. “I know it’s ridiculous, but in my glitter-and-sunshine-soaked mind, you’re mine. I’m yours. We’re a thing, and this is our endgame.” I released his hand and stepped back, embarrassed to the core by my confession, timing, and word choice. My arms fell limply at my sides as I waited for him to let me down gently. Politely.
His brows furrowed deeper.
I pressed my lips shut before I said anything else I’d regret.
“When?” he asked. The low, gravelly quality of his voice sent another round of shivers down my spine.
“When what?”
“When did this start? How long have you thought of us as a couple?”
I glanced at the people sipping drinks a few feet away. At the man still crooning one of my favorites songs. I’d already put myself out there for Jack to crush, and I didn’t want to say any more. I wet my lips, scrambling for a change of topic.
“Lacy,�
� he prodded. “Please answer.”
I chewed my bottom lip. “Do you remember when we met?” I asked. “You were always grumping around, telling me to stay out of your investigation.”
“I still do that.”
“Yeah, but do you remember the night you showed up undercover at a bar where I was trying to get information about a criminal I thought was a killer, and you got into a big bar fight?” Heaven help me, but I couldn’t keep my mouth shut tonight. I was a fully-shaken Lacy soda and Jack had loosened the lid.
“Yeah.” He crossed his arms and widened his stance.
“That was the night I stopped caring about your angry looks. That was the night I knew you cared about catching the killer as much as I did, even though I was the one whose business and reputation were on the line. That was the night I saw beyond the handsome face and shiny badge, and I saw you. Honest and steadfast. Trustworthy and brave. A protector. My protector,” I said. “I wanted you in my life because I realized you’d already found a way into my heart.”
The song ended, and everyone clapped.
I looked away, fighting a heavy blush and potentially renegade tears. I begged my mouth to never open again.
Jack reached for me. His furrowed brow had vanished, replaced by a brilliant smile that lit his enchanting blue eyes. “That’s the same night for me, too,” he said. “I hadn’t had a connection like that with someone in a very long time, but all at once, with you, I wanted to.”
He took my hand and we moved on through the windy night. “Can I tell you something else?” he asked. “While I’m making confessions?”
My heart leapt. “Please.”
“I like Chase Hawthorne,” he said with a sudden bark of laughter.
I laughed too. “What?”
Jack shook his head in awe. “That guy should be on my hit list, but I really like him. He makes it impossible not to, and he makes you smile, so I’ve got to give him credit.”
Jack stopped on the corner to push windblown locks off my face and frown. “I don’t like how right he is for you. Your families are close. Your history is shared. Your best friend is married to his brother, for crying out loud, and I’ve seen you and Chase together. I’ve even had the significant displeasure of seeing you almost kiss him outside your shop. I think that was the closest I’ve ever come to coldcocking him.”
Thunder rolled across the sky and a flash of lightning lit our world. I smiled as a pattering of fat drops of rain fell over us. Jack would never have hit Chase, but I liked that it had crossed his mind. I’d had the same irrational pinch of anger when Jack had teased me on the phone, pretending to think I was someone else.
“I don’t want to be selfish with you,” he said. “I want what’s best for you, and Chase checks all the boxes. The two of you have something good and real.”
I reached for his hands and lifted them between us, lacing our fingers the way he had earlier, enjoying the ease of his acceptance of my touch. “We have something good and real,” I said.
The skies opened, and the few fat drops became a downpour. Thunder roared, and the wind whipped into action, threatening to tip me over where I stood. Sheets of rain slapped my skin and poured over my face as I rose onto my toes and repeated my statement, louder, determined to make him hear me. “We do, Jack. Us.”
Around us, people squealed and laughed and ran for cover, but he stared down at me, his sopping dress shirt clinging to his skin. The furrowed brows were back as he batted rain from his eyes. Then, slowly, he nodded. “We do.”
“We do,” I echoed. “So, what are you going to do about it?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Furry Godmother’s advice for life: If there’s a bee in your bonnet, get a swatter.
Jack freed his hands from mine and pulled me against him in a move so confident and tender that my already racing heart hit overdrive. Our lips met. Tentatively at first, then with added purpose, and my bones went soft. When he pulled back, there was awe and question in his eyes, so I kissed him again. Several mind-numbing moments later, I was fairly certain the strong arms he’d hooked around my back were the only things keeping me upright.
“You want to get out of here?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
Jack called Henri on our way back to his truck, splashing through puddles at intersections in the driving rain. Henri and Willow had already gotten comfortable inside a restaurant and ordered drinks. They thought we should join them. I thought they were nuts.
Jack set the heaters inside his truck on low and pointed the vents my way, presumably to counter the rain’s deep chill, but that wasn’t what had my limbs shaking.
He held my hand on the seat between us while I began to overthink everything.
“What’s wrong?” he asked at the next red light, the pad of his thumb running across the back of mine in gentle sweeps.
“Nothing,” I said on instinct, still putting words to the issue internally.
His smile reshaped into the more typical look of concern. “I can take you home, if you’d rather.”
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s not that.”
“What then?” he asked, pulling forward as the light turned green.
I still wasn’t sure. It was a lot of things. Lately, my thoughts had been trapped in a perpetual state of panic and fear, but suddenly I was kissing handsome detectives on street corners in the rain? On the same night I’d had my party crashed with another bloody threat? There was too much happening this week. The good and bad had all mashed into a ball of complexity that I wasn’t sure I could sort when it ended.
“Was it the cake?” he asked. “The kiss? Timing?”
“No.” I turned worried eyes on Jack as a new concern presented itself. What if I was right about Willow’s cookies? What would happen when the effects wore off? Was I completely losing my mind, or was that a real possibility?
I rubbed my temples. The week’s stress had come to a head, and I was going round the bend.
We rode in silence the rest of the way to Jack’s place. He parked in the garage, then settled the engine and turned to me. “Is it something I said? Something I did?”
“No.” I forced a smile. “It’s nothing.” Clearly, magic wasn’t real, and I was absolutely calling my therapist in Tahiti tomorrow. “I’m over it.”
“Is it Chase?” he guessed.
I bristled. We’d talked about that already, hadn’t we? “Of course not.”
Jack raised his brows in challenge. “You sure about that?”
Jack got out. He rounded the hood and opened my door to help me down from his giant pickup. “Talk to me, Lacy. You’re not the only one feeling exposed right now.” He looked almost vulnerable, for a six-foot former solider and current lawman with a gun on his belt.
“Fine.” I screwed my face up, then let him have it. “I was just wondering if you really wanted to kiss me, or if you were just feeling the effects of Willow’s cookies.”
Jack stepped back and scrutinized my fast-flushing face. His eyes narrowed. “The magic cookies?”
I nodded. “What if you’re doped up on magic, and I took advantage of you? Does that make me a sex criminal?”
His lips twisted in an attempt not to smile. He rubbed them with a heavy palm when that failed. “You think you took advantage of me?”
I made another face.
“And you were quiet all the way here, not because you regret anything, but because you’re worried you might be a sex criminal?”
I lifted my brows.
Jack rolled his eyes and caught my wrist in his hand. “Come on, Crocker.” He towed me inside and dragged me down the hall to his master bedroom.
“What are you doing?” I gasped, as he pulled me over the threshold and released me.
He left me standing dumbfounded as he cut into the next room. Water sprayed on, from a shower, I realized. He returned with a stack of spa-quality towels and an outfit. One navy T-shirt, a pair of cut-off sweats with a police academy logo on the bot
tom corner of one leg, and a matching hoodie with OLIVER written across the back in white block letters. “Help yourself to the shower and dry clothes. We can toss your wet things into the dryer when you come out. I’m going to make some hot tea and a sandwich.” There was fresh heat in his tone, and it wasn’t the good kind.
I stared, dumbfounded. “Why are you mad? You told me to tell you what I was thinking, so I did. You’re not allowed to be mad about it.”
Water dripped from his sodden suit and hair into a puddle on the plush carpeting beneath his feet. He shifted his weight uneasily. “I’ve been trying to tell you how I feel for a year, but it was never the right time. Something always came up. Now, I finally say it, and you don’t tell me to go away. You reciprocate.” He stopped, eyes searching mine. “For one split second, everything was right in my world.”
My heart softened. “Then I ruined it?”
Jack released a long sigh and let his head tip over his shoulder. “I don’t need a damn magic cookie to know how I feel about you.”
“Tell me how you feel again,” I said, moving in close and angling my face up to his.
“You’re killing me, Crocker.”
* * *
Thirty minutes later, I was dry and snuggled into Jack’s clothes. I’d rolled the waistband on his shorts until I was sure they wouldn’t fall off, then done the same to the hoodie sleeves until my hands poked out. My skin was delightfully pink and warm from a nice long shower, and I smelled like Jack after using his shampoo and body wash.
I padded along high-polished wood floors to the tile mosaic in his blessed temple of a kitchen. The space was something out of my dreams, only better, and complete with a scrolling S embossed in the endless copper backsplash. S for Smacker.
Jack was busy in the kitchen when I got there. He’d stacked the halves of toasted cheese sandwiches on a platter and put a kettle on as promised. I admired how comfortable Jack was in the kitchen, a side effect, no doubt, of being raised by Grandpa Smacker.
“Smells good,” I said, announcing my entrance, as if he hadn’t probably tracked my approach from the moment I turned the bedroom doorknob and emerged.