Little Shop of Homicide (21 page)

“You’re late.” Her disapproval was evident in the steel grip she took on my arm. “Hurry up.”

It always amazed me how fast Birdie could move, considering her size and age. Trailing her down the corridor, I had trouble keeping up. She led me to the largest of the three rooms and steered me over to one of the five long tables at the front.

“We’re sitting here.” She gestured at a spot with four sheets of paper bingo cards taped to the table’s surface, and an array of brightly colored markers known as daubers lined up ready to help make us rich. “Put your coat on these two chairs so no one takes them.”

Birdie’s jacket was already draped over two other seats, so although I followed instructions, I wondered why. Mentally shrugging, I checked the old-fashioned round wall clock. There were still seventeen minutes until the game commenced, so I looked around.

People were six-deep at the rear of the room, chatting. They’d created a human wall that blocked the sight of whatever was behind them, but the delicious odors of roasted meat, pickled peppers, and baked goods beckoned
me. I was hoping for Italian beef sandwiches on homemade rolls and chocolate cupcakes with vanilla icing.

Following my nose, I sauntered over to the mob. I could smell the food. Now if I could just get close enough to taste it.

Gran accompanied me, and as I reached the group, she announced in a loud rah-rah voice, “Here’s Devereaux.”

The crowd turned as one and stared at me as if they were waiting for me to perform a song-and-dance act. I felt like a guest on a late-night talk show. Either that or the crazed killer in a Stephen King novel. I wasn’t sure which prospect horrified me more.

As I was pondering that choice, the throng swarmed around me. They were all talking at once, and it was difficult to hear any one individual, let alone answer all their questions about my health, business, and social life.

I was trying to focus when a woman who barely came up to my chest tugged on my sleeve and in a stage whisper announced, “I heard you and Dr. Underwood made up at the homeless shelter meeting.”

I shot a worried glance at Gran. I hadn’t told her about my encounter with Noah. “No.” I tried to hush the pint-size troublemaker. “We didn’t make up—I mean,” I stammered, “we were never fighting—so there was nothing to make up about.”

The woman patted my arm and tutted. “Of course not, dear. But it’s good you cleared the air with him, especially since he’s free again. Someone told me that after you left yesterday, Dr. Underwood said you were as pretty now as you were at sixteen.”

Really? “How sweet of him.” I struggled to keep the smile off my face, ridiculously pleased that Noah thought I was still pretty.

“Will you be dating him now that his fiancée is dead?”

I recoiled. “No!” All I needed was for Detective Woods to hear a rumor like that.

“Definitely not.” Gran put her arm around me. “My granddaughter has moved on to bigger and better men
than Noah Underwood ever was or will be.” She gave me a look that said once we were alone, we’d be discussing my failure to keep her apprised of my activities. “In fact, you’ll get to meet her new beau tonight.”

Before I could process Gran’s statement, a voice boomed across the bingo hall, “Birdie Sinclair, where in the Sam Hill are you?”

A
t seventy-seven Tony Del Vecchio was an imposing figure. Like his grandnephew, he was tall and handsome, with the same intoxicatingly blue eyes. Hard work had kept Tony lean and muscular, but his hair was silver rather than black.

I had, of course, met Tony on many occasions, but now that I knew he and Birdie had nearly gotten married, I looked at him differently. Previously, he and Birdie had been cordial, but there had been no hint that they’d ever been anything but neighbors. Now he was beaming at her.

He marched over and swooped her into a bear hug, whispering something in her ear.

“Tony.” Birdie’s face softened into a smile and she squeezed him back, murmuring, “I’d forgotten all about that day.”

Apparently, he had taken Birdie’s calling him to ask that his nephew help me as a signal that she was ready to change their relationship. And from her expression, it appeared he’d been right.

So that was why Gran had wanted me to come to bingo. She needed my moral support in order to take this new step with Tony. I could certainly understand that. But since it seemed to be going well, maybe I could
sneak away and wouldn’t have to stay for the whole evening.

Lost in thoughts of my getaway plan and having the house to myself for a couple of hours, I failed to notice the next arrival. That is until a familiar voice near the entrance said sharply, “What are you doing here?”

Birdie’s friends closed ranks around me as smoothly as a precision drill team. I appreciated their show of support, even though it was probably more for Birdie’s sake than for mine.

In the interim, Jake waded through the crowd and now stood in front of me.

The miniature firebrand who moments ago had been quizzing me about Noah marched up to him and poked him in the stomach. “She’s with us. Who are you? And what are
you
doing here?”

“You all remember my grandnephew, Jake.” Tony joined us and slapped his nephew on the back. “The one who’s a U.S. Marshal and was injured in the line of duty.” Tony puffed out his chest. “He’s helping me out on the ranch.”

“Oh.” My defender melted and grabbed Jake’s hand. “What a sweet boy.”

Sweet? Seriously? Jake? I shook my head. Sexy. Handsome. Hot. Yes. But not sweet. And certainly not a boy. Unfortunately for my state of mind, he was all man.

While the bingo ladies turned their attention to Jake, I pulled Gran aside and hissed, “Is this why you wanted me here so badly?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Gran’s face was wreathed in an innocent smile.

“You set this up with Tony, didn’t you?” I was beginning to put together the conversation I’d had with Birdie in the morning with the one I’d had with Jake in the afternoon.

“Sweet Jesus!” There were bright circles of pink on her baby doll cheeks. “What are you talking about, child?”

“Oh, please.” I gave a choked scream of frustration. “This. Matchmaking.” I only just managed to stop myself from stalking away. “Jake and me.”

“Sweetie. I swear.” Gran put her hand on her heart. “I’d never interfere in your… uh…”

“Love life,” I supplied with a raised brow.

“Exactly.” Gran nodded.

I started to point out that she wasn’t anywhere near as good a liar as she thought she was, but Tony materialized at Gran’s side and glared at me as he asked, “Everything okay, ladies?”

“She thinks we planned this whole evening just to get her and Jake together.” Gran pointed at me accusingly. “Tell her we’d never do something like that.”

“I’d like to hear this, too.” Jake had freed himself from his admirers and joined us. “Is she right, Tony?” He gazed at his uncle accusingly.

“Yep.” Tony twitched his shoulders. “Dev is tee-totally correct. Birdie and I think you two would be perfect for each other, so we decided to help things along.” He grinned. “You should thank us. We discussed it, and it’s clear you both have the hots for each other. And you’re both single. So what’s the problem?”

I stared at Gran and Tony with equal amounts of incredulity. Finally I threw up my hands in speechless frustration.

Jake and I stood in glum silence, digesting the fact that our loved ones had conspired against us behind our backs. It wasn’t until I heard a titter that I looked around and saw that we had an audience.

LADIES: PLEASE REMAIN SEATED FOR THE ENTIRE PERFORMANCE. I gazed at the oval sign adorning the back of the bathroom stall door. The words were framed by a drawing of parted stage curtains, and although the sentiment was amusing, I wasn’t smiling. However, I was perfectly willing to follow the instructions and stay exactly where I was.

A few minutes ago, when I realized that several of the
oldest raisins on the Shadow Bend grapevine had heard Tony’s comment, I had run away to the ladies’ room. Now I was afraid to come out.

After reminding myself that I had survived much scarier circumstances, I stood, swung open the door… and immediately regretted my decision when I saw Vivian Yager in front of the sink.

She was not only Vaughn’s aunt; she was also the owner of the Curl Up and Dye beauty salon. The women in town went to Vivian’s for all the news that didn’t make the weekly paper.

It was too late to go back into the stall. If I did that, it would be all over town that I had irritable bowel syndrome, or some other gastric embarrassment. Instead, I said, “Hi, Viv,” and braced myself for her questions.

“Dev.” She jumped. “You scared the pants off me. I thought I was alone.”

“Sorry.” I washed my hands, even though I hadn’t used the facilities.

“I was running late tonight,” Vivian said. “I just got here.”

“Oh.” That explained why she wasn’t interrogating me. Now I just needed an innocuous topic until I could gracefully make my exit. “Hope your friend liked the Valentine’s Day basket I made for you.”

“He loved it.” Vivian winked. Then as she watched me smooth an errant curl behind my ear, she said, “I know you probably think I’m just a small-town blue rinse and Final Net jockey, but if you give me half a chance, I could make your hair look amazing.”

“I’m sure you could.” I started to demur, then paused. Vivian’s own short, sleek style was terrific, and I hadn’t had a cut since I’d quit my investment job. Maybe I should take her up on her offer—at the very least get my split ends trimmed.

“I have an opening Monday morning at nine, and since your store doesn’t open until noon…” Vivian let her voice trail off.

“Well…” I was about to take the appointment when a thought occurred to me. “Was Joelle Ayers a client of yours? Her hair was just beautiful.”

“No. None of the country club crowd come to me.” Vivian addressed my image in the mirror, concentrating on applying her lipstick. “They all go to a place in the city called Imagination.”

“Cool name,” I responded automatically. Now that Vivian mentioned it, I remembered that Noah had said Joelle was getting her hair done in the city after she left the hotel key card for him last Saturday afternoon.

“Yeah.” Vivian tucked the gold tube in her purse. “Those women think I’m not good enough because I charge a quarter of what they pay at that salon.” She chuckled. “Funny thing is, the stylist who does their hair there went to beauty school with me, and I graduated number one while Melanie, aka Sarin, was at the bottom of the class.”

I assured Vivian that although I couldn’t take the Monday slot she offered, I would let her do my hair when I had a little more time. What I didn’t share was that before then, I would be getting a cut from Sarin.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Father Flagg was hurrying down the hall. He stopped and asked, “Devereaux, how have you been?”

“Fine, Father.” As a lapsed Catholic, I was uncomfortable with the priest’s scrutiny.

But before he could ask why I wasn’t coming to church or about any of my other sins, the bingo ladies descended on him. The women were a force of nature, kind of like a tsunami; chiding him for his tardiness, they swept him away to call the game.

Relieved at my narrow escape, I didn’t see Jake looming in front of me until he said, “I’m sorry Uncle Tony shanghaied you like that.” He shook his head. “I don’t know what got into him.”

“No problem.” I felt my cheeks heat up. “It was probably Gran’s idea.”

“Maybe.” Jake stared at the floor, not meeting my eyes. “But Tony could have said no. In fact, up until a few days ago, I would have sworn he wouldn’t have any part of something like this.”

“I don’t know what’s with Gran, either.” I rubbed my temples. “She’s never shown the slightest interest in matchmaking before.”

“Weird.” Jake stuck his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

“Too bad everyone heard.” I toyed nervously with the tiny pearl buttons on my blouse. “The whole town will know by noon tomorrow.”

“Maybe that’s not a bad thing.” Jake kept his voice low against eavesdroppers. “Your friends told me about their idea to get Woods off your back by making him think you were already involved with another guy, and thus would have no reason to want Underwood’s fiancée out of the picture.” His lip curled. “Considering Woods’s mentality, it might be a pretty good idea.”

“Maybe.” I tried to read Jake’s expression, but as usual, it was impossible to decipher. He had one of the best poker faces I had ever run across, which was annoying when I was trying to gauge his feelings. All I could hope was that he had just as much trouble reading me. “Although I’m not sure anything will deter Woods’s quest to see me behind bars.”

“It’s not like we can undo the fact that fifty people just heard Tony and Birdie declare we were hot for each other.” Jake’s tone was resigned.

“True.” Was he unhappy to have his name linked with mine? “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to let people think we were dating.” I let my eyes drift up to meet his. “But that would mean we’d have to act like we were really into each other when we’re out in public.”

“I doubt that’ll be difficult.” Jake’s gaze burned into mine.