A Reason to Kill (Reason #2) (11 page)

“No need, she used my dad for target practice so she’s proficient with an axe as you well know. But even so, she’s just plain crazy.”

“You don’t think she could have—”

“No way she killed him,” Max chuckled.

“How can you be sure?”

“His balls were left intact.”

Six

Cock-o-late

Day three in Trails End started out like day two, well, not exactly the same. I
was
hungover, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t start the day with cock-o-late on a stick.

Right now, standing in Maxine’s kitchen, the sun was up, the birds were singing, and I was holding a chocolate penis on a stick. As I stared at the hardened chocolate, Frank emerged in the kitchen. He grabbed a cup from the table, filled it with coffee, then walked to the counter, picked up one of the candy creations and took a bite.

“First time I’ve ever had a dick in my mouth,” he replied around a mouthful of chocolate.

“I’d say that’s too much information, but I don’t have the brain cells left to care.”

“Wild party,” he chuckled.

“Who knew sweet ole ladies were so—”

“Horny?”

“Dedicated to orgasms.”

Last night, after Max showed up and invited us back to his mother’s, we all piled into the Jeep and followed him to her house. It was a log cabin style home with a large deck supporting an A-line gable with chunky trusses at the front and a green-metal roof. She has three bedrooms, of which she was only using one, so she put Lucy and me in one and Frank in the other. Max hadn’t stayed long, much to my relief and disappointment. He said he had men to round up and a dog to feed, so he’d left after we arrived and settled.

Maxine’s home was your typical Alaskan home with log furniture and animal-skin rugs in each room. There was a deck off the back with a hot tub that I’d eyed almost instantly after arriving, and I cursed myself for not bring a bathing suit. Her kitchen was at the back of the house overlooking the deck, and she’d done it in black granite and stainless steel. It had a wraparound counter that looked into a great room and a big pine table that she’d set to feed us. She’d made a pot roast for dinner and we’d all gathered to eat when her doorbell rang.

That’s when the evening got crazy.

Martha Tallchief, Trails End postmaster and from what I could tell the town gossip, had stopped by to drop off supplies for the party. Apparently, they were having a party at Maxine’s house tonight and they’d wanted to get a head start on the refreshments a day early. Martha, unlike Maxine, was a stout woman with short gray hair of Native American heritage and she dressed like most of the men in town. Meaning, she had on flannel, jeans, and boots. Maxine, on the other hand, was slim, dressed casual, but feminine in a cream colored sweater and jeans and she wore her long, beautiful gray hair braided down her back. They were what I’d call the “Lucy and Ethel” of the seniors in Trails End and by the end of the night Lucy, Frank, and I was in stitches.

See, this wasn’t any old party they were having; it wasn’t Tupperware or Mary Kay. No, Maxine and Martha were in business together supplying adult toys to anyone in Trails End that wanted them.

Passion consultants was the term they used and once a month they invited, by invitation only, friends to sell, demonstrate, or replace any of the three hundred products that their company sold.

Now, as you can imagine, Lucy and I were on-board with hearing about their latest products. Frank, not so much. He’d retired to the great room with a “See ya,” while Maxine pulled out her catalog for Lucy and me to peruse.

Then the blender came out, the margaritas were mixed and the melting of chocolate for the cock-o-lates on a stick began.

Four hours and five margaritas later I was drunk, and I can now check “hot-tubing in the nude” off on my list of things to do before I die. I can
also
check off “caught by hunky lumberjack while in the hot tub naked,” too.

Imagine it, a starry night, the wind blowing, and me in the hot tub soaking my sore muscles from my fall into the river. The moon was brilliant and glowing as I laid my head against the side, staring at the bright globe. The stars were twinkling and at that moment, all was right in my world. Then, out of now where, a large dog, wolf-like in appearance, bound into the hot tub with me. He nailed me in the face with his tongue while I tried in earnest to push him back. That’s when I heard a rumbling voice bark, “Muttley.”

I turned my head, saw Max leaning in the doorway, and grabbed the dog to cover myself.

“Turn around,” I hissed.

“And miss this? No way.”

“This isn’t funny,” I whined.

“It is from where I’m standing’,’’ he grinned, then grabbed my towel from the chair and walked over to the hot tub.

“Out before you catch cold.”

I glared at him, but he just stood there with the towel open, waiting.

“Fine, but close your eyes.”

“Think we’ve already established the fact I’m not a gentleman,” he answered without shame as the dog broke from my grip, leaving me with no cover.

Crossing my arms to cover my breasts, because clearly I thought that would hide them (copious amounts of alcohol give you super powers), Max’s lip twitched at my move then he took a long slow look. His eyes heated and I felt my cheeks warm as stared me down.

Now what?

The longer I sat there, the longer he could get his fill of my naked body. And considering his mother sold sex toys for a living, I didn’t think she would be much help if I called out to her.

Hmm, stay curled up trying to cover all my bits and pieces or bite-the-bullet and just get it over with
.

I’ll remind you, I was a tad drunk and not in my right mind, so that being said, I figured what the hell. I got up, stepped out, and stood there as he wrapped a towel around me.

“You know, if you were my woman I’d be pissed you were out here naked while another man was in the house,” he announced as he grabbed another towel and started drying my arms.

“I guess it’s a good thing I’m not. Besides, he went to bed an hour ago,” I explained as he moved to my hair, roughing it up with a towel.

“Yeah, good thing,” he mumbled deep.

His proximity clouded my judgment, washed away my earlier warnings to keep my distance. At that moment, I wasn’t clumsy Mia awkward with men, but a woman with needs and Max felt like a man who could meet them.

Max stepped closer and his movements slowed as he stared back at me, his eyes dropping to my mouth. Then his nose flared and his jaw tightened, as he seemed to battle an inner war. On a sharp inhale of breath, Max hooked the towel around my back and yanked me forward, my arms trapped against his hard chest. With nothing but a towel between us, I could feel his erection against my stomach and I stilled my breath in aroused surprise.

“This is a bad idea, Max,” I whispered, my self-preservation kicking in suddenly.

“Worst idea I’ve ever had but right now I don’t give a fuck.”

His growled reply was like an aphrodisiac. Something about the way he growled when he was mad called out to me, so I pulled my arms free, tangled my hands in his longish hair, and got up on my toes, our lips a hair’s breadth away.

“A man could drown in those crystal pools,” Max whispered as he looked into my eyes.

Hearing that, my body shuddered against his as I waited for his mouth to kiss me. He felt it, muttered “Fuck,” and decided it was time to give me what I’d avoided all day, his mouth.

Done playing around, Max dropped the towel, tangled a hand in my hair, the other cupping my face while he lowered his head slowly. His eyes locked with mine as he leaned in and whispered, “You scared of me?’’

Oh, yeah, I was terrified of him.

Fortunately or, unfortunately, depending on my state of mind, the kiss never got underway because his mother took that moment to flip on the outside light. She chuckled “Whoops,” as Max turned his head and I sobered up long enough to push out of his arms.

Then I fell.

Max shouted, “Watch out,” when I stumbled sideways over his dog, dropping my towel in process mooning him, his mother, and all of Alaska. I took this as a sign I shouldn’t let Max near my lips and bolted off the deck, towel in hand, crying out, “Excuse me while I kill myself now.”

Now, standing in Maxine’s kitchen, head pounding, staring at different varieties of cock-o-lates on a stick, I was trying to figure out how to get out of town without ever laying eyes on Max again.

“I’ll give her this much,” Frank mumbled again, “she can make a mean chocolate cock.”

That she could!

Some had fuzzy balls, topped with coconut and nuts. Some were white chocolate with macadamia nuts that we’d dubbed spotted dick. My favorite was the dark chocolate ones. I have a weakness for the bittersweet flavor, so much so, last night I had my first ever dark cock-o-late penis shaped sucker. They were delicious and hysterical.

As you can imagine, with all that alcohol in our system, Lucy and I were not only drunk, but we were punch-drunk with laughter and decided to have a deep throat contest.

I won if you can believe it.

Frank, after two margaritas, finally decided to join us, but the poor man came in during our competition. He stood there open-mouthed a little dazed, actually, and then mumbled he needed to call his wife.

Still standing at the counter taking in the works of chocolate art, I turned when I heard Maxine, call out, “Phone call, Mia.” Surprised, I took her phone, put it to my ear, and said, “Hello?

“Chief Stetson here, I need you and your co-workers to come into the station so we can get your written account of yesterday’s events.”

“Have you searched the ridge yet? Can we go back up and finish our work?”

“The ridge hasn’t been cleared yet, it’s gonna take a couple of more days. But with the three of you considered suspects, I’m keeping the area closed till we can sort this out.”

“All three of us are?”

“You all had the means and the motive and we haven’t had a murder in this town in thirty years, Ms. Roberts. You and your team came in three days ago and now I have a dead man on my hands, so, yeah, you’re all suspects.”

“I hope you realize you’re going to screw up five years of research keeping us detained like this. I can assure you no one on my team killed Donald. You need to look at your residents for answers, Chief. You’re wasting taxpayer’s money on the three of us,” I snapped and then hung up the phone.

God this was such a fucked up situation.

“Good news, I’m not the only suspect in Donald’s death,” I told Frank as I entered the kitchen.

“Oh yeah, did they decide to make Max an accessory?”

“What? No, why would you say that?”

“Just the rumor running through town. Martha said some people think Max is covering for you because he fell in love the minute he heard you sing. Then he punched Donald after he manhandled you and then threatened him. After that, you, Max, and Donald were at a gas station together right before he died. It all fits,” he shrugged.

“Oh, for god sakes, it fits if you’re crazy enough to believe in fairy tales. As hard as it may be for you to believe,
I
did
not
bludgeon Donald with an axe, then jump off the ridge in an attempt to meet my accomplice.”

“Just tellin’ ya the rumors, I didn’t say I believed them,” he laughed.

“If you like that fiction, then you’ll love this. All three of us have to go down to the station and give written accounts of our day. We, as in you, me, and Lucy are now the prime suspects.”

“Cool,” he strangely replied.

“Why aren’t you upset?”

“ ‘Cause I know I didn’t do it, nor did Lucy for that matter. We were together the whole time. As for you my dear colleague, you’re too, what’s the word, “girlie” to pick up an axe and whack him in the head.”

“I can get dirty if I have to,” I lied.

“Sorry, darlin’, but there’s no way you killed anyone. You’re more likely to fall on that axe and kill yourself,” he explained and then patted my shoulder as he headed towards the great room.

I probably would kill myself, dammit. God, this whole situation sucked. I knew I should be worried about being a suspect, but I had bigger problems to figure out. Right now, my biggest issue was figuring out how to get back on Grizzly Pointe so we don’t lose five years of research.

How does a person get on a mountain without hiking in? A vision of me jumping from a plane with a parachute strapped to my back made me shudder and then it hit me.

“Hey, Frank! Do you think Curly could land his plane on the clearing at Grizzly Pointe?”

“Probably, those planes are made for quick takeoffs and landings, why?”

“I’ve got an idea.”