This Old Homicide (33 page)

And didn’t that put a damper on the moment? I really had to get over it. I liked Mac a lot. I liked Eric, too, and sometimes I thought that with a little encouragement on my part, the police chief and I could have a nice relationship. When he wasn’t suspecting me of high crimes, that is.

I glanced back at Mac and sighed. I guess I had a few decisions to make. But not today. Today I would relax and take that break I’d been looking forward to. In the meantime, nobody said I couldn’t be equally friendly with both men. So maybe I would. But oh, these matters could get complicated, couldn’t they?

After the parade was over, the floats were parked along one end of the town square where they would be on display for the rest of the afternoon. Everyone in town with a pet took their dogs and cats and hamsters and bunnies—and one potbellied pig—over to the stage where the pet fashion show was about to begin. The audience was filling up and a lot of kids were already sitting on the grass by the stage, waiting for the show to begin.

I had Robbie on a leash, but I carried Tiger in my arms to keep her calm. Robbie looked dashing in his plaid outfit and I’d entered Tiger in the pet-owner look-alike contest. I didn’t expect to win since our only similarity was the reddish color of her fur and my hair. But I knew it would be fun and that was what mattered today.

“So you dare to show your face here after what you did to me?”

I turned and almost groaned. Always the drama queen. “Hello, Whitney.”

“I could’ve died and it would be your fault.”

“No, it would be
your
fault. I told you to leave. I told you there was danger. Didn’t you even notice that we were duct-taped to our chairs? What’s wrong with you?”

“Don’t talk to me like that. I was traumatized.”

I took a deep breath. “I know, and I’m sorry. But that’s Althea Tannis’s fault, not mine. She’s a cold-blooded killer and I hope you’ll testify at her trial.”

“I most certainly will.”

“Good.” I gave her a curt wave. “Okay, bye-bye.”

“Not so fast. You—”

She was interrupted when Ralphie Smith, our town’s perennial theatrical director, shouted from the stage, “Hey, Shannon, the fashion show’s about to begin. We need you up here.”

I had volunteered to announce the first part of the Pet Parade Fashion Show. I waved to him. “Be right there, Ralphie.”

“Oh my God,” Whitney said, “I can’t believe you’re going through with that stupid pet fashion show. You have no class and I’m sick of you and Jane and those other women acting like you run this town.”

“We don’t run this town. We just organize the festivals. We enjoy doing it. And look around. Everyone’s having a good time. Do you really have a problem with that?”

“I have a problem with your existence.”

I shrugged. What could I say? That was pretty much the story of my life since high school when it came to dealing with Whitney. “Gotta go. See you around.”

“No!” She grabbed my arm.

Tiger hissed and I held the cat tighter.

“I—I know the mayor,” Whitney said, eyeing Tiger cautiously. “He’ll let me take over the Festival Committee and I’ll kick you out.”

“But why?”

“Because y-you suck!”

“That’s mature,” I drawled. “Look, I know you’ve had a hard time lately, so I’ll let that one slide.” I moved closer and got right in her face. “But I know the mayor, too, and he’s been pretty happy with the festivals lately. And let’s face it. You wouldn’t know the first thing about organizing a festival. And you’d hate it. But hey, you take your best shot.”

“Best shot at what?” Tommy said jovially as he walked up sipping a beer. He wrapped his arm around Whitney’s shoulders and nuzzled her neck. “Hey, gorgeous, what were you two ladies talking about?”

I gave him a bright smile. “Whitney was just telling me she wants to run the Festival Committee from now on.”

“Aw, baby,” he crooned, chucking her chin. “Are you still going on about that?”

My ears perked up. So Tommy had heard her grousing about the committee, too? I thought she was usually more discreet about her hatred of me when Tommy was around.

“She thinks she can do a better job than me and Jane,” I added helpfully.

“Aw, honey, let it go,” he murmured, and kissed her cheek. “You know Shannon and Jane are just better at things like this than you are.”

Her eyes darkened and a small line of tension popped up between her perfectly plucked eyebrows. Suddenly I was worried for Tommy’s safety.

“And just what do you think
I’m
good at?” she demanded.

He smiled that adorable smile of his and said, “You’re good at being beautiful and sexy and you’re a wonderful mother and wife and I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Whitney stared at him for a long moment and then slowly flashed me the most superior look of cold satisfaction I’d ever seen in my life. “He’s mine.”

I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t dare. Tommy had managed to shut her up in his own inimitable, sweet way and I couldn’t have been happier to witness it. Except the part where Whitney still made me sick.

“Enjoy your little committee,” she said in her most condescending tone, then flipped her hair and flounced off, clutching Tommy’s arm possessively.

“Good girl,” I murmured to Tiger as I stroked her soft fur. “We don’t like her, do we?”

Tiger purred louder and I knew she agreed.

Jane joined me. She stooped to pet Robbie and we both watched Whitney and Tommy cross the park toward the food court.

“Trouble?” she asked.

“Not anymore,” I said. “I don’t think she’ll be coming to any more committee meetings from now on.”

“Don’t toy with me,” she warned as she stood up. “Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my God, that’s great!” She clapped her hands and then grabbed me and Tiger in a hug. “Whatever you had to do to accomplish that, it was worth it.”

“I agree.” Even if I included the countless times I’d been tormented and dissed by Whitney over the past fifteen years, it was worth it to have her off the committee and out of our hair.

I smiled as I straightened Tiger’s collar and clutched Robbie’s leash. “And now we’ve got a fashion show to win.”

Jane and I were sharing announcing duties at the fashion show, so we walked together to the stage.

“Oh, look who’s in the audience,” I murmured from the stage stairway.

Jane glanced around until she saw the person I was talking about. “Oh yeah. Stephen’s a Lighthouse Cove regular these days.”

“He moved out of your place, right?”

“Yes, finally. He found a cute duplex on the other side of the square.”

“That’s not the only cute thing he found,” I said, watching in shock as he kissed the woman standing next to him. “Is that Luisa Capello?”

“Yes,” Jane said, smiling.

I frowned. “He’s awfully fickle, isn’t he? The last I saw, he was madly in love with you. He was like a little puppy following you around.”

“I know. Lucky for me, he walked into Capello’s Pizza last week and fell in love with their food and their daughter.”

“Well, they do make a great pizza, and Luisa is darling.” I cast another dark glance toward Stephen. “But he’s still on my list.”

Jane laughed and dragged me the rest of the way up the stairs.

The Pet Fashion Show was the biggest hit of the day. My Tiger and I won Honorable Mention in the Look-Alike category. Robbie scored the Second Place ribbon for the Most Dignified costume in his Royal Stewart tartan kilt and jaunty tartan cap.

I strolled to the center of the stage with Tiger and Robbie to proudly claim our ribbons with the other winners. The stage was packed with happy people and pets of every shape and size, mainly because we’d decided that every single entrant should at least win an Honorable Mention. Didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, after all.

Without warning, an earsplitting scream arose from the other side of the park. I saw Eric and Tommy running toward the sound, just as one of the vendor booths erupted into chaos.

“Oh no.” I clutched Tiger closer and tightened my grip on Robbie’s leash. Glancing around at the other prizewinners, I shouted, “Hold on to your animals.”

It was the no-kill animal shelter’s adoption booth. The young assistant had lost control of her dogs and they were dashing across the park in every direction, many of them making a beeline for the Fashion Show stage.

“Maybe we should’ve let them participate in the show,” Ellie, one of our fellow Festival Committee members, mumbled as she ducked behind me. “It looks like they’re about to attack.”

I laughed as a miniature schnauzer wiggled its way up the steps and onto the stage and started sniffing at Robbie. He sniffed back, clearly not minding at all.

“They just want to play.”

Within a few minutes, most of the escapees had been rounded up, thanks to the kids who’d gone chasing after them. The way some of those children were clutching the animals, I had a feeling they wouldn’t let them go without a fight.

Jane smiled. “There’s going to be a lot more pet adoptions this afternoon than the shelter counted on.”

“Isn’t that lovely?” Ellie sighed.

“Hey, Irish.”

I glanced down and saw Mac standing on the grass, holding a pretty black cat in his arms.

“Hey, yourself.” I handed Tiger off to Jane and wound my way through the crowd to the stairs with Robbie tagging happily behind me. I hadn’t spoken to Mac in almost a week, since he’d gone to New York for more meetings. I had tried not to miss him too much, and luckily I’d had the Valentine’s Festival to keep me busy.

“Are you having fun?” I asked.

“This is the best,” he said, gazing around. “Damn, I love this town. I missed it while I was away.” He looked back at me. “I missed you.”

“We all missed you, too,” I said, smiling. I reached out and petted the black cat. “Who’s your friend?”

“I named him Luke, short for Lucifer, because he’s a devil of a cat.”

“He’s a beauty.” But then I caught his words. “You named him? Is he yours?”

“Yeah, I just adopted him.” He nuzzled the cat’s soft neck. “I think we’ll be good together.”

I could hear Luke purring from where I stood. “Oh, that’s wonderful, Mac. Welcome, Luke.”

“Shannon,” Mac said somberly. “I haven’t had a chance to talk to you since I left for New York.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving off the question. “But I wanted to tell you that the woman you saw in my apartment—and I know you saw her—she’s… nobody. She’s not important to me. She showed up here without warning and I tried to be nice, but I wanted her out of there. She’s a little pushy.”

“You don’t owe me any explanations.”

His gaze was focused like a laser on me. “I think I do.”

“I’m… fine.”

“Yeah, I know you are.” Smiling, he brushed a strand of hair away from my cheek. “But I still want to apologize. I know you saw us that night and I think I hurt you, and… hell, I never want to hurt you, Irish. I—”

“There you are.”

We both turned to see Eric walking toward us with a big, beautiful German shepherd on a leash. Instinctively I stooped down and picked up Robbie. At the same time, Mac grasped the short leash that was clipped to Luke’s collar.

“This is Rudy,” Eric said, grinning at the big dog who gazed with adoration at his human companion. “He’s very well behaved.”

“He’s a beauty,” I said, grateful for the interruption. “Where’d he come from?”

“I just adopted him from the shelter.”

I laughed. “That’s fantastic, Eric. He suits you.”

“He looks formidable.” Mac held on to Luke as he leaned over to pet the dog.

“He is.” Eric frowned. “He belonged to a soldier who died in Afghanistan.”

“Oh, poor Rudy,” I said, and set Robbie cautiously on the ground. The two dogs began to sniff each other in greeting.

“He’s trained for combat,” Eric said. “I’m thinking he’d be a great addition to our K-9 unit.”

I listened as the two men talked companionably about the virtues of cats versus dogs. Having one of each, I wasn’t about to side with either one of them, but I laughed at their comments and barbs and my heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. I didn’t have any decisions to make today, about men, about life, about anything more important than what to have for dinner. No, for now, I was content to simply enjoy the moment and the fact that I was in the company of two impossibly handsome, generous men, each of whom had just shown his true strength by adopting a sweet, helpless animal to love and care for.

Could this day get any better? I didn’t think so.

The Bibliophile Mysteries return!

Don’t miss the latest,
Ripped from the Pages
,

available in June 2015 from Obsidian,

in hardcover and as an e-book.

Turn the page for a peek at the opening pages,

when Brooklyn Wainwright returns to Sonoma’s wine country… .

And
The Book Stops Here
, available now

in hardcover and e-book,

becomes available in paperback in May 2015.

“Won’t this be fun?” My mother squeezed me with painful enthusiasm. “Two whole months living right next door to each other. You and me. We’ll be like best girlfriends.”

“Or double-homicide victims,” my friend Robin muttered in my ear.

Naturally, my mother, who had the ultrasonic-hearing ability of a fruit bat, overheard her. “Homicide? No, no. None of that talk.” Leaning away from me, she whispered, “Robin sweetie, we mustn’t mock Brooklyn. She can’t help finding, you know, dead people.”

“Mom, I don’t think Robin meant it that way.”

“Of course she didn’t,” Mom said, and winked at Robin.

Robin grinned at me. “I love your mom.”

“I do, too,” I said, holding back a sigh. Mom had a point, since I did have a disturbing tendency to stumble over dead bodies. She was also right to say that I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t like I went out in search of them, for Pete’s sake. That would be a sickness requiring immediate intervention and possibly a twelve-step program.

Hello, my name is Brooklyn, and I’m a dead-body magnet.

Robin’s point was equally valid, too, though. My mother and I could come very close to destroying each other if Mom insisted on being my BFF for the next two months.

Even though she’d raised her children in an atmosphere of peace and love and kindness, there was a limit to how much of her craziness I could take. On the other hand, Mom was an excellent cook, and I could barely boil water, so I could definitely see some benefit to hanging around her house. Still, good food couldn’t make up for the horror of living in close proximity to a woman whose latest idea of a good time was a therapeutic purging and bloodletting at the new panchakarma clinic over in Glen Ellen.

I focused on that as I poured myself another cup of coffee and added a generous dollop of half and half.

A few months ago my hunky British ex–MI6 security agent boyfriend, Derek Stone, had purchased the loft apartment next door to mine in San Francisco. We decided to blow out the walls and turn the two lofts into one big home with a spacious office for Derek and a separate living area for visiting relatives and friends. Our reliable builder had promised it would take only two months to get through the worst of the noise and mess, so Derek and I began to plan where we would stay during the renovation. I liked the idea of spending time in Dharma, where I’d grown up, but live in my parents’ house? For two months? Even though there was plenty of room for us? Never!

“It would be disastrous,” I’d concluded.

Derek’s look of relief had been profound. “We’re in complete agreement as usual, darling.”

“Am I being awful? My parents are wonderful people.”

“Your parents are delightful,” he assured me. “But we need our own space.”

“Right. Space.” I knew Derek was mainly concerned about me. He would spend most weeks in the city and commute to Sonoma on the weekends. His Pacific Heights office building had two luxury guest apartments on the top floor, one of which would suit him just fine.

Another idea had been for me to stay there with him, but that would’ve meant renting studio space at the Covington Library up the hill for my work. This would entail packing up all my bookbinding equipment and supplies, including my various book presses and a few hundred other items of importance to my job. Those small studio spaces in the Covington basement, while cheap, were equipped with nothing but a drafting table and two chairs, plus some empty cupboards and counters.

I’m a bookbinder specializing in rare-book restoration, and I was currently working on several important projects that had to be turned in during the time we would be away from home. The original plan of staying with my parents, while less than ideal, would’ve allowed me access to my former mentor’s fully stocked bookbinding studio just down the hill from my parents. Abraham Karastovsky had died more than a year ago, but his daughter, Annie, had kept his workshop intact. She lived in the main house but had given me carte blanche to use the studio whenever I wanted to.

For weeks, Derek and I had tossed around various possibilities, including renting a place somewhere. That seemed to be the best alternative, and at the last minute, we were given a reprieve that made everyone happy. My parents’ next-door neighbors, the Quinlans, generously offered up their house for our use. They were off to Europe for three months, and we were welcome to live in their home while they were gone.

We were willing to pay them rent, but all they required from us was that we take good care of their golden retriever, Maggie, and water their plants. It seemed like a darn good deal to Derek and me, and I was hopeful that sweet old Maggie and my adorable kitten, Charlie (aka Charlemagne Cupcake Wainwright Stone, a weighty name for something so tiny and cute), would become new best friends.

So last weekend, Derek and little Charlie and I had moved out of our South of Market Street loft and turned it over to our builder, who promised to work his magic for us.

And suddenly we were living in Dharma. Suddenly I was sitting in my mother’s kitchen, having breakfast and wondering why I’d ever thought I could avoid seeing her every day simply because we weren’t together in the same house. Not that I minded her visits on a regular basis. I joked about it, of course, but in truth, my mother was great, a true original and a sweet, funny woman with a good heart. All my friends loved her. She was smart and generous. But sometimes… well, I worried about her hobbies. She’d been heavily involved in Wicca for a while and recently had been anointed the Grand Raven Mistress of her local druidic coven. Some of the spells she had cast had been alarmingly effective. She would try anything once. Lately she’d shown some interest in exorcisms. I didn’t know what to expect.

“Do you want some breakfast before we leave?” I asked Robin. We’d made plans to drive over to the Dharma winery this morning to watch them excavate the existing storage cave over by the cabernet vineyards. It would eventually become a large underground tasting room. Cave tastings were the hottest trend in Napa and Sonoma, and our popular Dharma winery was finally jumping on the bandwagon.

Robin pulled out a kitchen chair and sat. “I already had breakfast with Austin. He had to be on site at seven.”

Robin lived with my brother Austin with whom she had been in love since third grade. She and I had been best friends since then, too, and I loved her as much as any of my three sisters. I didn’t get to see her as often as I used to when she was living in San Francisco, but I knew she was blissfully happy with Austin, who supported her sculpting work and was clearly as much in love with her as she was with him.

Austin ran the Dharma winery and my brother Jackson managed the vineyards. My father did a great job overseeing the entire operation, thanks to his early experience in the business world. Decades ago he’d turned his back on corporate hell and gone off to follow the Grateful Dead. Ironically, these days, Dad and four other commune members made up the winery’s board of directors. He was also part of the group who oversaw the town’s business. And he loved it. It probably helped that Dad was still remarkably laid-back. I sometimes wondered if Mom had cast a mellow spell on him.

I checked the kitchen clock. It was already seven thirty. The cave excavation was scheduled to begin at eight. “I’ll just fix myself a quick bowl of cereal, and then we’ll go.”

Robin glanced at Mom. “Becky, are you coming with us?”

“You girls go on ahead,” she said, pulling a large plastic bin of homemade granola down from the cupboard. “I want to put together a basket of herbs and goodies for the cave ceremony. I’ll catch up with you later.”

“What cave ceremony?” I asked as I poured granola into a bowl and returned the bin to the cupboard.

She looked at me as though I’d failed my third grade spelling test. “Sweetie, we have to bless the new space.”

“Oh.” I shot Robin a wary glance. “Of course we do.”

Robin bumped my shoulder. “You haven’t been away so long that you’d forget about the sacred cave ceremony.”

“I’ve been busy,” I mumbled. She was teasing me, but still, I should’ve known that my mother would want to cast a protection spell or do something to celebrate the groundbreaking of our winery’s newest venture.

I could picture Mom doing a spritely interpretive dance to the wine goddess. She would chant bad haiku and sprinkle magic sparkles on the heavy tunneling machines and equipment. It would be amazing and the heavy equipment would turn our tasting cave into a magical space where all would be welcome. Or something like that.

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom said, hanging a dish towel on the small rack by the sink. “While you’re here, you should go to lunch at the new vegan restaurant on the Lane. They serve a turnip burger that is to die for.”

I swallowed cautiously, hoping I didn’t lose my breakfast. “I’ll be sure to check that out, Mom.”

She laughed, and her blond ponytail bobbed gleefully. “Oh, you should see your face. Do you really think I’d be caught dead eating anything so vile?”

“I… Okay, you got me.” I shook my head and chuckled as I carried my bowl to the sink. “I was trying to remember when you’d turned vegan.”

“I didn’t, and I never will. And when did I ever serve my children turnips? Like, never.”

“You’re right, and I appreciate that. But I haven’t seen you in a while. I was a little afraid you’d suddenly turned into Savannah.” My sister Savannah was a vegetarian now, but she’d gone through several austere phases to get there, including a few months when she would eat only fruit that had already fallen from the tree.

“No, sweetie, I was just pulling your leg.”

I smiled at her. “You still got it, Mom.”

“I sure do.” She grabbed me in a hug and it felt good to hold on to her. “Oh, Brooklyn, I’m so happy you’re here.”

“So am I.”

As I washed out my cereal bowl, Mom left the kitchen.

“Let’s get going,” Robin said after I put my bowl away in the cupboard. “I don’t want to miss anything.”

“Wait a second, girls,” my mother called from her office alcove off the kitchen. She walked out, holding two tiny muslin bags tied with drawstrings, and handed one to each of us. “I want you both to carry one of these in your pocket.” Her expression had turned deadly serious. “It’ll keep you safe.”