Arson Takes a Dare: The Third Marisa Adair Mystery Adventure (Marisa Adair Mysteries Book 3) (8 page)

From the floor, he glanced up at the figures around the table. “Miss Wanda Bra Woman, I mean Miss Adair, are you pregnant?”

Marisa gasped. “Hell, no!”

“That’s good news.” Alex vaulted up the steps to the stage. Chairs scraped as he crowded in at the table next to Marisa. “Especially since we have not—”

“Alex!” Marisa briefly buried her mortified face in her hands. She raised her head. “What are you doing here?”

“Diana ordered me here,” he replied. “I seem to find myself following her commands.”

“A pregnancy would be shocking news for your fans.” Landis bent over his phone. “There’s nothing online about Wanda Bra Woman since the spring, when her fans set up the Phiz Phase Page to memorialize the riot.”

“
Phiz Phase Page
?” Marisa, Alex, Althea, and Clay turned to Landis in tandem.

Marisa started to rise. When Diana placed a hand on her shoulder, she fell back into the chair. “There’s a social media page dedicated to the wrestling riot?”

“Of course,” Landis answered. “The Riot Page has tons of pictures. There are photographs of The Knight in Shining Armor, along with his horse. And there are great pictures of his archenemy, The Fire Breathing Dragon. The best photos are of you in your one-piece sexy superhero’s outfit. Your legs are perfectly set off in calf-hugging, white, high-heeled boots. And the glittering tiara is the perfect finishing touch.”

Alex started to rise. “Give me that phone.”

Diana pushed him back into his chair.

“Don’t get upset with the messenger.” The officer shrugged. “Wanda, I mean Marisa, caused the riot when she turned her back on her boyfriend, The Knight, and offered her favors to The Dragon.”

“I didn’t cause the riot.” Marisa felt like screaming. “It was a scripted show. We didn’t realize the fans would take the story so seriously.”

The officer looked up from his phone. “I’ll write an update for you. Will the baby be a little Knight in Shining Armor or a baby Dragon?”

“I’m not pregnant.”

Alex growled and pushed back his chair. He stood, his figure highlighted by the candles behind him.

“No, Alex,” admonished Diana.

Landis clicked his tongue in annoyance. “I don’t see anything on here about an Alex.” He lowered his phone to scrutinize Alex. “You look short and puny for a wrestler. Not to mention I don’t see many wrestlers running around in stuffy dark suits. You look more like an appliance store manager.”

Alex drew in an outraged breath. He took a step toward the edge of the stage.

Diana rammed the chair into the back of his legs.

Alex grunted in surprise and pain. He fell into the chair.

Diana rolled Alex back to the table. “Officer, if you can’t be quiet, then you’ll have to leave.” She pointed her arrow at him.

“Good luck getting him to keep quiet and stop looking up stuff on his phone,” Dreamus grumped as he materialized from the shadows. “It’ll take more than an arrow.”

“Lieutenant, thank goodness you’re back.” The officer was relieved. “This woman Diana is obviously deranged. I can get a Mental Inquest Warrant right away. We can haul her ass to the state psychiatric hospital, and they can deal with her goddess fantasy. I’ll pull up the form and fill it out.” His face set, he bent over the phone.

“Officer, put the phone away before I shoot it out of your hand.” Diana fitted the arrow into the bow. She trained it on Landis.

Dreamus moved between the officer and the dancer. “No MIWs today, Landis. Ms. Forrest, please holster… er… quiver your arrow.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I didn’t realize you knew my… last name.”

“Everyone is surprised when I know things.” Dreamus was grumpy. “I’m a detective. I detect.”

Diana circled the table, balancing on the padded edge of the stage. “We’re here tonight to provide a neutral venue for Marisa and Mrs. Flaxton to discuss their conflict.”

She placed her hands on Marisa’s shoulders. “You never allowed Mrs. Flaxton to explain. You’ll give her the opportunity.”

Her cloak glittering, she turned to Althea. “You hurt Marisa to her very core. And you will explain. Now.”

Althea swallowed. “Marisa, thirty years ago, I lived your childhood angst with you. You were bullied at school. At home, your father was abusive. You and your brothers didn’t have enough food. I offered you sanctuary, and you accepted it.”

The older woman reached across the table to touch Marisa’s clenched hand. “I’m a writer. I write about what I know. I know your pain. I’ve felt your pain for the past three decades, and I still feel it. Now, I discharge your pain through my writing. I’m sorry. I should have told you.”

Marisa choked. “Yes, Althea, you should have told me. I found out from Parvis Stidham. He told me your secret just so he could hurt me. He succeeded. It hurts like hell.”

“I never thought my work would become popular. I didn’t think you’d find out.” As she rose from her seat, tears fell down Althea’s cheeks, catching the candlelight like tiny stars. “I’m sorry.”

Clay put his hand on Althea’s shaking arm.

Diana shook her head in regret. “Mrs. Flaxton, you don’t sound sorry about breaking Marisa’s delicate heart. You sound as if you’re sorry you got caught.” She pointed her arrow at the older lady. “Aren’t you still keeping an important secret from Marisa? You don’t use your academic title, but it would be more accurate to call you Dr. Flaxton. Tell Marisa about your research project.”

“Your degree!” Marisa clenched the table. “Your graduate degree is in anthropology. You earned it five years after you started teaching at my school. Did you come to our rural, backwater town as an elementary school teacher or as a participant-observer? Did you use me as a cultural experiment? You used my pain in your fictional stories. Did you also write a research paper on me for your advanced degree?”

Althea raised her hands. “You see, Marisa—”

“You did, didn’t you?” Marisa rose. Diana firmly pushed her down into her seat. Marisa put her head down in her arms. Alex gently rubbed her back.

Diana shook her head in sorrow. “Mrs. Flaxton, you need to give more thought to the concept of honor.”

Althea started. “How did you know I was writing a story about honor?”

Diana floated to Marisa and pulled her friend to her feet. She gently turned the sobbing woman to face her. She raised the arrow.

“Lieutenant, I’m not touching my gun.” Landis’ voice rose in excitement. “But that psycho is going to stab Wanda, I mean Miss Adair!”

The dancer used the point of the arrow to carefully trace a heart shape on the left side of Marisa’s heaving chest. “You opened your heart to Althea. Her betrayal has broken your already bruised heart.”

Landis reached up and grasped Diana’s ankle.

Diana swayed and then caught her balance on the edge of the stage. She kicked out, freeing her ankle. The officer stumbled backward. She launched herself into the air. She landed on the officer, carrying him to the floor under her. She straddled his midsection. She savagely raised her arms above her head, the arrow pointing downward at his heart. “Do not interfere in my affairs again, puny human!”

Dreamus lunged.

He was too late. The arrow hit the officer’s straining chest.

Landis screamed.

“Stop that caterwauling. It’s a fake arrow.” Diana brought the arrow to the officer’s horrified face. “It retracts when it hits a solid surface. You’re fine.” She rolled off the officer.

“Diana, that was a dangerous move.” Dreamus admonished her. “What if my officer had pulled his weapon and shot you in what he thought was self-defense?”

Diana reached into the folds of her cloak. “I stole his gun from his holster.”

Landis pulled himself to his feet. “But you had both hands on the arrow… And you got my gun… Wow! Can I get your phone number? Oh, wait, I bet I can find it online.”

* * * * *

“What a draining Sunday evening.” Marisa unlocked her kitchen door. Alex, Dreamus, and Tara followed her into the house.

“I can’t believe Diana used Machiavellian techniques to lure all of us to the club.” Alex pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “I know she meant well. But rather than Althea offering up a heartfelt apology, she actually incriminated herself further.”

“Diana seems to have literally and figuratively bowled over the fresh and youthful Officer Landis.” Tara laughed as she leaned against the counter.

“It may have been mutual.” Dreamus crossed the kitchen to the table. “I think if he hadn’t asked to walk her to her car, she would’ve been forced to make up a lurker in the shadows.”

“Dreamus, watch out.” Tara cautioned. “Your foot is close to Laithe’s tail.”

The lieutenant slid his foot away from the orange cat. He stared around the room. “What a homey kitchen, Marisa. I hadn’t been further than the living room. The slate floor is nice, and the granite counters are well crafted.”

In spite of her mental and physical exhaustion, Marisa smiled at the envy in the lawman’s voice. “Thank you. When I moved in, I had to practically gut the kitchen and start over. It was a labor of blood, sweat, and tears.”

“It paid off. What an unusual cat.” The lawman stared at the feline.

Marisa locked the door. “Alex and Tara have already met Laithe.”

“I have never seen a cat with long, slender legs like a rabbit, an extra-long tail, and pointy ears.” Dreamus leaned over to pat him.

“Laithe is my Abyssinian cat,” Marisa said. “He’s an Egyptian breed.”

Alex laughed. “And he has a very mischievous personality.”

Marisa bent over to scoop up Laithe. She snuggled him close to her body, his paws on her shoulders. He rubbed his triangular face against hers and purred. She lovingly stroked his fur, noticing the shades of orange and brown, more like deer pelt than cat fur. “He’s pretty opinionated. He loves Alex and he hated Parvis Stidham.” She bit her lip. She’d vowed not to speak his name. She placed Laithe gently on the floor and looked around the room. “Who wants something to drink?”

“Smart cat.” Alex bent down to pat the cat when he rubbed against his ankles.

Marisa moved to Laithe. “He’s getting orange fur on your dark suit, Alex.”

“A little orange hair won’t hurt anything.” Alex swatted at fur drifting in the air. “If you serve orange juice and Dreamsicles, no one will notice a thing.” He rubbed the cat from the top of his orange head to the tip of his orange tail. Laithe’s eyes closed in ecstasy and his hoarse purr filled the kitchen.

Tara slid her arm around her friend’s waist. “Marisa, I hope you don’t mind. I told Dreamus about your brother Mosely, and the woman who was bullying him. I hoped we could legally hold her accountable.”

“Tara!” Marisa was aghast. “You didn’t need to involve the law.”

“I’m not just the law, Marisa. I’m your friend. And Alex’s friend as well.” Dreamus reached down to pet Laithe as he wove between Alex’s ankles.

“I do want to track down Alisa and talk to her.” Marisa turned to the lieutenant. “I don’t want to involve law enforcement.”

“Just let us know how we can help.” Tara snapped her fingers. “Alex, Marisa and I need to discuss something with you.”

Alex rose and glanced at Marisa. She shrugged.

Tara smacked Alex’s shoulder. “We overheard Elizabeth telling you her ideas for getting rid of people, including Marisa, to save money. What are you going to do?”

Rubbing his shoulder, Alex frowned. “I’m not eliminating any jobs.”

The kitchen door rattled with an insistent knocking. “What on earth?” Marisa trotted to the door.

Alex’s eyes rolled like a spooked horse. “It’s that old battle-axe who lives next door to you.”

“Oh, do you mean Verna?” Marisa giggled. “She’s just a bored old lady. She’s harmless. And she saved my life back in the summer.”

“Harmless!” Alex edged away from the door. “The CIA would love to recruit her. The old woman’s interrogation technique is a frightening cross between a crazed hypnotist and an elderly bulldozer! She glares at me, and I just can’t get away. She reminds me a lot of my mother.”

“Don’t forget the hellhound she drags with her.” Tara shuddered.

“I don’t think a Chihuahua can be a hellhound.” Marisa snickered.

“Have you ever noticed it looks a lot like Verna? Its narrow face and long nose are the spitting image of Verna. When they’re wearing matching kerchiefs, it’s difficult to tell them apart.” Tara chortled.

“That dog is just as nosy as Verna, and I swear it can understand English.” Marisa leaned against Tara as they laughed.

“I’ve heard her telling him not to bite people’s ankles. He disobeys. When poor Officer Daviess rushed to save Marisa and Alex a few months ago, the beast bit his ankles.”

When Marisa sobered, Dreamus grimaced. “Now what was that moronic name she gave it?” He spoke in a rush, as if to take Marisa’s mind off the incident. “Pukey?”

“Pusy,” Alex argued.

Marisa poked him.

“What? Pusy as in filled with pus.” His face shone with innocence. “You know, green discharge from an infected wound, like the one he left on the officer’s ankle.”