Authors: Heather Blake
I said, “Do you really believe Natasha is cheating to win? And harming people in the process?”
Thirtysomething Natasha, who managed the local playhouse, was an actress who loved the sound of her own voice. She had a snobbish air about her, but she was also a philanthropist and an animal lover.
I set the paperwork on the coffee table. “I can maybe see her cheating to win, for the attention factor alone, but not hurting anyone. She doesn’t seem the malicious type.”
Self-centered, yes. Malicious, no.
“Competition changes people. Trust me,” Ivy said somberly. “It brings out their worst. I’ve witnessed it many times. As I mentioned to you the last time we met up, I’m not one hundred percent positive that Natasha was responsible for the
accidents
, but she was on the steps at the time Marigold fell and she’d been seen loitering near Baz and Vivienne’s booth at lunchtime. It seems too coincidental.”
It did at that.
Ivy’s hands curled into fists once again. “Missy is entered in the same category as Titania, Easy on the Eyes, so Natasha will certainly be watching you, no pun intended. Missy has lovely eyes so she’ll definitely be viewed as a threat by the competition.”
I couldn’t help but feel a puff of pride. Missy did have nice eyes, a rich brown color full of emotion and personality. She would definitely give Titania a run for her money. Of course, working undercover would disqualify Missy from winning, but her competition wouldn’t know that, only the judges.
“Your booth will be directly across the aisle from Natasha’s, affording you an unfettered view of her movements,” Ivy said. “I don’t want her getting suspicious that she’s being watched, but do not let her out of your sight.”
“At all?” I asked.
“At all. If she uses the restroom, you use the restroom. If she takes a lunch break, you take a lunch break . . .”
Yeah,
that
wouldn’t be suspicious at all.
“If Natasha
has
been sabotaging her toughest competition,” Ivy said, her words clipped, “it’s imperative she be stopped before word leaks out. Not only would it be a PR nightmare for the event—it would be a PR nightmare for the whole community. The Extravaganza floods the village with tourist dollars. It would be quite a loss to our fiscal influx if one rotten egg causes the downfall of such a wonderful village tradition.”
Fervor had caused a red flush to creep up Ivy’s neck and settle in her full cheeks. She had painted a nice picture of not wanting the village to be hurt by the Extravaganza’s potential downfall, but I knew it would hurt her financially as well. Despite owning the Fairytail Magic groomers, she seemed to live for the Extravaganza, and I had to wonder how well the grooming business was faring. On the surface it seemed successful, but I knew appearances could be deceiving. Especially in this village.
Ivy shifted her legs to the left. “Report immediately to me if you witness anything unusual at the show, so I can take action. You’re all set?”
“I think so.” I mentally ticked off all I needed, which wasn’t much. “All I really need is Missy, right?”
“Technically, yes, but you will want to get there an hour or two early to decorate your booth,” Ivy said.
“Decorate?”
“Of course.” Ivy frowned as though I should have already known this. “The gaudier, the better. Bunting, balloons, sparkles. Think pizzazz!” she added in a staccato cadence, using jazz hands to accent the last word. “Go all out.”
“Pizzazz. Got it.” I added pizzazz-shopping to my day’s to-do list. The snazziness of it all would be itemized on her bill for my services, which I could already tell was not going to be nearly enough for what I was about to endure.
Ivy glanced at a chunky gold watch on her wrist and abruptly stood up. “I’ve got to get going.”
I walked her to the front door and glanced around for Missy. She was nowhere to be seen, which was odd. Usually the little dog loved company, and I knew her doggy door was closed, so she hadn’t been able escape outside and into the village (as she had a tendency to do). Perhaps she was upstairs with Ve.
I pulled open the front door. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then. Bright and early.”
Ivy unclenched her fist long enough to grip the front door, her knuckles quickly turning white. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, Darcy, but I wasn’t sure where else to turn. I cannot allow my event to become sullied. I don’t want to hear even a hint of a whisper that something troublesome might be going on behind the scenes.”
It
was
a lot to ask, but I wouldn’t say so to her. I’d wait until she was long out of earshot and then complain ruthlessly to Aunt Ve. “Our motto here at As You Wish is no job too big or too small.”
“Where does ‘dangerous’ fit in that motto?” Ivy asked, her blue eyes narrowed in earnestness.
“What do you mean?”
As she stepped out onto the porch, a warm June breeze ruffled her pink-tinged hair. “If Missy is viewed as a threat, then in all likelihood, you will be viewed as one, too. If what I suspect about Natasha is true, then you’re in danger of becoming yet another
accident
victim, and who knows how far she’ll go this time to assure a win for Titania? Stay away from the stairs and don’t leave any of your food unattended. Above all else, please don’t get yourself killed. That wouldn’t be a PR nightmare. It’d be a PR catastrophe.”
Sheesh. I’d hate to inconvenience her with my
death
.
“Just be careful tomorrow,” she said, then sharply added, “and be aware at all times that the future of the event is in your hands.”
With that, she marched down the front steps, looked both ways before she crossed the street, and rushed across the green, the parklike center of town.
Stunned, I watched her go and instantly regretted taking her on as a client. However, there was nothing I could do about it now other than to tackle the job head-on . . . and hope that there wouldn’t be any deaths at all to contend with.
Especially mine.
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