Double Shot (13 page)

Sarina blinked back tears as the figure of Mrs. Dickerson receded into the background. Indeed, the ordeal was so terrifying that the lovely damsel could but assume she was being taken to the gallows!

***

Just how the dashing Duke of Luxley was going to deliver Sarina from such a fate was something Adelé Nightingale had yet to decide. Luckily my mother’s arrival saved me the trouble. I buzzed her in and rushed downstairs to help with her luggage.

“Goodness gracious, Honeybunch. What happened to your hair?” she offered by way of greeting.

I told her it was nice to see her too and led her to the elevator.

“Thank Karen for me?” she said as we rode up.

The elevator in our building had been forever on the blink. But after some issues a few weeks earlier, Karen finally got herself licensed to repair it. Even though I always use the stairs, I was happy the thing was in operation for my eighty-two year old mother.

She found a seat on the couch and greeted Snowflake while I made tea. When I glanced over from the kitchen, the cat was rolling around on her back, purring in ecstasy as my mother rubbed her tummy.

“How was the drive?” I forced myself to ask.

Mother didn’t answer, which could mean almost anything—that she didn’t hear me, that her habitual lead foot had almost caused an accident or two, that she had acquired a speeding ticket, or that her drive up from her home in South Carolina had been uneventful. Trust me, that last possibility was the least likely scenario.

“I’m afraid I was half asleep when you called last night,” she said. “Tell me again what you need me to do, Jessie?”

I repeated the plan. My mother was going to infiltrate The Cotswald Estates Retirement Home and get the lowdown on Ethel Abernathy and Doreen Buxton.

“There’s something fishy about those two,” I said as I poured our tea. “It may have something to do with Ethel’s deceased husband Harmon, but they’re being very cagey about it. Wilson’s concerned about their sons also.”

“You met Ethel and Doreen at this Wade On Inn establishment?”

I handed her a cup and sat down with Snowflake between us. “I’m not sure I would call the Wade On Inn an ‘establishment.’ Two people have been shot out there.” Mother grimaced and I continued, “Wilson insists the murders are related to a bet that went wrong at the pool table. But I’m wondering if the history between the old ladies might be relevant.”

“And you say Avis Sage plays there? I can’t believe you’ve run into him after all these years.” Mother offered the skylight a benevolent smile. “Bless his heart.”

I reached over and held her hand. “Were you listening last night when I mentioned Fritz Lupo?”

“Yes.” She squeezed hard. “The Fox is dead. Oh, but that makes me feel old.”

“He was a good player, wasn’t he?”

“Not as good as your father. But, yes, Fritz was good. And such a nice young man.”

I mentioned that Fritz Lupo was in his sixties when he was killed, and Mother mumbled something about how time flies.

“Wilson actually has you shooting nine ball at this dangerous bar?” she asked. “I’m surprised he’s allowing such a thing. That darling man loves you so much.”

I frowned. “Wilson Rye is far from darling. And it’s far from love.”

She let go of my hand. “He is darling. And it is love. Listen to your mother.”

I decided not to argue and reiterated what I hoped she would accomplish at The Cotswald Estates.

“I made an appointment for you,” I told her. “You’re meeting with the weekend manager, a woman named Tracy Brody. She’s going to show you around and introduce you to a few residents. Then she’s going to leave you on your own in the dining room for their Sunday brunch. I told her you wanted to try the food.”

“I’m to act interested in moving there, correct? And I’m to sit with Ethel and Doreen at lunch and see what I can discover?”

“Exactly. So, you’re willing to give this a try?”

“Willing?” She clapped her hands. “I can’t wait! I’ve never been a detective before.”

We drank our tea and worked out the details of her impending excursion. Mother wrinkled her nose when I mentioned her alias was Martha Smith.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “But I had to think up something quick when I was on the phone with Ms. Brody this morning.”

I explained my own alias at the Wade On Inn. “You can’t very well be Tessie. I don’t want Ethel and Doreen to wonder why they all of the sudden know two Tessies.”

“It’s so sweet you’ve been using my name, Jessie. I’m flattered.”

“Well, just remember you’re Martha Smith. And if it comes up, I told Ms. Brody my name is Susan Smith.”

“Martha and Susan,” Mother repeated carefully. “Got it.”

She sipped her tea. “Now then, how will I recognize Ethel and Doreen?”

As Karen would say, oh boy. I hadn’t thought about the fact that the dining room of The Cotswald Estates would be chock full of old ladies.

“Okay.” I thought about it. “Doreen is heavy-set. And Ethel is even thinner than you.”

Mother frowned. “I’m going to a retirement home looking for a skinny old lady and a fat old lady? That’s not very helpful, Jessie.”

I tried harder. “Doreen uses a cane.”

Mother was still frowning. “And?”

I thought some more. “And they’re very loud,” I said. “They’re loud even in a barroom setting. I imagine you’ll hear them before you actually see them. And look for two women with remarkably blue hair,” I added. “Their hairdresser must use the same rinse on both of them.”

I admired my mother’s lovely and natural white hair. “Thanks for not going that route yourself.”

She was checking out my hairdo also. “I don’t like to criticize,” she said. “But that color really doesn’t suit you.”

“I know that, Mother. But it’s part of my disguise. I can’t be recognized at the Wade On Inn.”

“The blond was so becoming,” she mused and continued staring at my head.

I promised her I would go back to blond as soon as possible.

“Thank goodness! Now then, let me freshen up a bit, and I’ll be on my way.” She stood up and made her way toward the bathroom.

I glanced at Snowflake. “If Wilson ever finds out about this, he’ll kill me.”

The cat did not argue.

***

Mother looked marvelous when she emerged a few minutes later. She started rummaging around in her suitcase.

“I think I should wear pumps, don’t you, Jessie? I need to look like I can afford a place like Cotswald Estates.”

I helped her find the shoes, which, I noticed, matched the purse she had brought with her. Then I crossed my fingers, handed her the directions to The Cotswald Estates, and led her to the door.

“How do I look?” she asked as I gave her a good luck hug.

I held her at arm’s length and studied her. My mother looked like Queen Elizabeth. I mean, exactly. Especially since she was wearing her most perfect old-lady powder blue skirt suit, replete with matching shoes and purse.

“You look like a little old lady,” I told her and walked her to the elevator. “A very charming little old lady.”

Mother stepped in and pushed the button. “And you look like Eddie Munster.”

I told her she was giving me a headache, and she disappeared.

***

Speaking of headaches, Ian arrived shortly after Mother left. He handed me the binoculars, snarled for good measure, and headed to the shower. But he stopped short at the suitcase blocking his path.

“Who’s here?” he demanded.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” I said as I pulled various ingredients for his gourmet lunch out of the fridge. “But Mother is visiting.”

“Tessie!” He jumped and looked all around. “Where is she?”

I smiled to myself and assured him my mother was not on the premises at the moment. I must say it was rather rewarding, how the thought of sweet little old Tessie Hewitt could send big, bad, Ian Crawcheck into serious panic mode.

I got busy frying bacon and had the BLT’s waiting when Ian emerged from the bathroom.

He sat down at the counter and plunged in with gusto. I myself remained standing on the opposite side and ate with a little less enthusiasm. I suppose we could have sat down at the table, but breaking bread with my ex was surrealistic enough without making it any sort of pleasant occasion.

“You got the pictures?” he asked.

I nodded and mumbled a thank you.

We kept eating, but curiosity got the better of me. “Did you have any trouble out there?” I asked. “Did anyone see you?”

“Some teenage girl ran out the front door and started screaming at me. Weird.”

I bit my lip. “Did you talk to her?”

“I didn’t plan on it, but she stormed right up and asked me what I thought I was doing, like she owned the place or something.”

I stopped eating while Ian continued, “The kid gave me a hell of a time, but I already had your damn pictures, so I told her to cool her jets and made a run for it.” He sneered. “For such a sweet looking thing, she was tough. She actually chased me to my car. I jumped in and locked the doors before she attacked.” He shook his head. “Weird.”

I cleared my throat. “Did anyone else notice you?”

“No,” he said and drank some water. “The teenager from hell was crazy enough, thank you.”

I stifled a smile. Wilson’s team really was good at undercover surveillance. Evidently even Mackenzie Quinn didn’t know the cops were watching the place.

“So what’s this scene that’s so all-important?”

“Scene?”

“Earth to Adelé Nightingale.” Ian dug into another sandwich. “The scene at the waterfalls? The reason I risked my life at the Wade On Inn?”

“Oh, yeah.” I waved a hand. “That scene.”

Of course, there was no waterfall scene whatsoever in
An Everlasting Encounter
. All the heavy action in my current masterpiece was occurring in the lavender field.

“Well, let’s see.” I thought fast, and the tropical paradise of Hawaii came to mind. “My heroine,” I appealed to the skylight for ideas, “is Delta Touchette. She’s, umm, being held captive deep in the jungle—”

“Since when do they have jungles in Europe?”

I pursed my lips. “I’m branching out from medieval Europe for this one. We’re somewhere in the South Pacific. Anyway,” I continued, “Delta’s assailant must get rid of her, and all evidence of her, as he is being chased by the law—a Tarzan-type character named, umm, Skylar Staggs. He’s the hero.”

“Tarzan?”

I contemplated Tarzan. “I think Tarzan lived in Africa, but Skylar has the same skill set—swinging from vines, diving from cliffs, that sort of thing. So, the evil kidnapper, whose name I am still working on, has decided to throw Delta to certain death into the waterfalls of the Goochie Leoia Gorge—”

“Come again?”

“Goochie Lee-O-I-A,” I repeated as the name started to grow on me.

I shrugged. “That’s as far as I’ve gotten.” Well, that certainly wasn’t a lie! “Skylar will arrive just in time to witness the villain tossing Delta into the watery depths. Skylar will dive in after her, and inevitably we’ll have a hot and heavy love scene in some verdant grove of banyan trees at the bottom of the waterfalls—”

I glanced up to see my ex smiling at me in a most disconcerting fashion.

“Not we, we,” I clarified. “Delta and Skylar.”

“I’ve missed this,” he said, and I frowned accordingly.

“Finish your lunch and get out of here,” I ordered.

“No, really, Jessie. You have a great imagination. You’re always so entertaining.”

I blinked twice and repeated my request that he go away.

Chapter 16

Lavinia Barineau stood in the doorway of the drawing room and frowned at her son, who continued staring out the window at nothing. Whatever had gotten into her normally active and robust offspring? Indeed, Trey had been daydreaming the entire week.

It wasn’t healthy, Lavinia surmised, and it could cost him his title. For Trey’s father had stipulated in his will that his son must marry by age twenty-eight, or lose his inheritance.

Lavinia knocked briskly and moved into the room. And before even offering her son a proper good morning, she reminded him his birthday was only one short week away.

Trey listened politely as his mother discussed the Barineau family traditions. Gentlemen were to marry and settle down properly, she insisted. She folded her arms and inquired, not for the first time, as to which St. Celeste maiden he had in mind.

When Trey’s only response was to return to the window, poor Lavinia lost her patience. She stamped her foot and scolded that unless Trey made a decision soon, Luxley Manor would pass to his cousin Hubert. Hubert might not possess Trey’s charm and good looks, Lavinia said, but at least the man had the decency to be married with two children and another one on the way.

Trey Barineau smiled at his distressed mother and promised he would find himself a bride forthwith. And with that, he rang for the groom and directed him to saddle up his most trusty steed.

***

I, too, determined immediate action was called for. I saddled up Wilson’s truck and drove to Hastie’s Diner. After all, I reasoned, I couldn’t very well send my elderly mother off sleuthing if I wasn’t willing to do a bit of it myself. Wilson wouldn’t approve. But he seldom follows my logic, impeccable though it may be.

He had mentioned that Hastie’s Diner is a dive, and on that we could agree. Even the parking lot screamed greasy spoon. I parked in one of the many empty spaces and tried to blame the lack of customers on it being a Sunday afternoon.

A few sleigh bells hanging from the door handle announced my arrival, and Melissa Purcell saw me instantly. She stood up from the counter, where she and another equally unbusy waitress were leaning, and waved furiously.

I smiled brightly and ventured forth to be introduced to Tammy. She was not exactly thrilled to meet me. But when I reached my hand across the counter, she did manage to lift her head and wobble it slightly. Then she resumed staring glassy-eyed at the front door.

Melissa grabbed a coffee pot, which almost shouted lukewarm and stale, and led me across the room to one of the many unoccupied booths overlooking the parking lot.

“Sit over here, Tessie.” She waved to a seat where the vinyl wasn’t torn. “The coconut cream pie is really good today, so save room.”