Double Shot Page 23

  I nodded and the tears started flowing.

  There was a whole lot of commotion behind us, as the paramedics arrived. I heard Wilson and Russell calling out orders behind me. But I figured they knew what they were doing, and indulged in a good cry with the Wiseman.

  Eventually we got a grip, and I explained what I had been doing with myself the past few decades, how I ended up playing pool at the Wade On Inn, and what the heck I was doing with masquerading as a brunette.

  “And your Mama?” Mr. Sage asked. “You be sure to apologize for my rude behavior the other night. I didn’t suppose she wanted me to recognize her, either.”

  “But you did?”

  “Oh, little girl, I’m not likely to forget Tessie Hewitt. You know about your Mama?”

  “What about her?”

  “She invited me into her home and to her supper table, didn’t she? A white woman in South Carolina? This was back in the early seventies, remember.”

  I stared at Mr. Sage as it dawned on me what he was saying.

  “Not only was Tessie Hewitt beautiful, she was gracious beyond all get out. Inviting a black hustler like me to Easter dinner with her family?” Mr. Sage was shaking his head. “Old man will never forget that.”

  “Mother was sorry she couldn’t acknowledge you the other night,” I said and explained why I had gotten her involved in things.

  Avis asked after her health, but it was him I was concerned about. “No offense, sir, but you’re getting too old for this.” I waved at the pool table.

  He disagreed and insisted he was even planning to go back on the road. “In honor of the Fox.” He chuckled and assured me he’d probably be dead within a month. “I’m ready, though. When it happens I’ll join your Daddy and Fritz at that big pool table in the sky.”

  I was threatening to cry again when Wilson tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around to accept a huge hug and an even bigger scolding. He didn’t let go of me, but he did offer a significant lecture about putting myself in danger. Yadda, yadda, yadda.

  Eventually we remembered Mr. Sage, and Wilson freed one arm to shake his hand.

  “This is Captain Rye.” I turned around to Avis. “I believe you’ve already met?”

  “He your beau, Miss Jessie?”

  I nodded. “Yes, Mr. Sage. I suppose he is.”

  Avis looked up at Wilson, who was at least twice his size. “Me and your lady friend are thinking of taking us a road trip.” He winked at me. “The two of us could hustle the pants off every shark from here to San Francisco. What do you say, Miss Jessie?”

  I raised an eyebrow at Wilson. “That does sound tempting.”

  “Take some advice from the old man.” Avis spoke to Wilson. “Hold on tight to this lady friend of yours, before someone younger than me comes along and steals her away.”

  “Don’t worry about that, sir.” Wilson pulled me back against him and spoke into my left ear. “I love this lady friend of mine way too much to let anyone steal her away.”

  I blinked at Mr. Sage.

  Wilson Rye loves me? Way too much?

  And here I thought I had just escaped grave danger.

  Epilogue

  “Today we’ll work on the happy ending,” I told Snowflake.

  The confrontation between Trey Barineau, Sarina Blyss, and Winnie Dickerson versus the altogether evil Agnes promised to be a doozey indeed. But Adelé Nightingale was far too exhausted to think about it that morning.

  Especially since I had not yet decided how Norwood would react during the showdown at the Blyss family home. Like his wife, was he evil also? Or would he take the side against Agnes, and in support of his lovely sister Sarina?

  “We’ll worry about poor Norwood’s dilemma tomorrow,” I said, and instead concentrated on Father Conforti and Barnaby. I worked on moving them along to St. Celeste at a nice, slow, steady pace befitting of Adelé Nightingale’s mood.

  As promised, Father Conforti finally did meet with Constable Klodfelder, and he formally identified Sarina Blyss. All charges against her were officially dropped. And as soon as the Constable made known her innocence, all of St. Celeste was atwitter in eager anticipation of the Duke of Luxley’s impending nuptials.

  Thus, on the day before Trey Barineau’s twenty-eighth birthday, Father Conforti united him and his lady love in holy matrimony. The bride looked more radiant than ever in her golden necklace and the glorious wedding gown Mrs. Dickerson had created for the occasion.

  Trey’s white carriage awaited the newlyweds as they emerged from the church. As the Duke lifted the new Duchess into the passenger seat he mentioned how anxious he was to show her Luxley Manor.

  Sarina blushed and said her new home would have to wait. “I would much rather visit the lavender field right now, dearest,” she said.

  Happy to oblige his bride’s every desire, Trey drove them away.

  ***

  I was still writing the climactic—and I do mean climactic—love scene in the lavender field when Wilson arrived. He let himself in and read over my shoulder as my fingers flew across the keyboard. Adelé Nightingale was in a groove.

  Wilson waited.

  Finally, I had the lovers resting in a bed of lavender, panting gently in each other’s arms.

  I sat back. “What do you think?” I asked, my eyes still on the computer screen.

  He reached over and pointed to the passage that had left even Trey Barineau sapped of energy.

  “Let’s give that a try,” he suggested.

  I twirled around and reminded him of his age. And mine. “I’m not nearly as lithe and limber as Sarina Blyss-Barineau,” I warned.

  He grinned. “Well,” he sang, “let’s give it a try anyway. What do you say?”

  I said I admired his optimism.

  We were recovering a while later when Wilson broached the all-important subject. “So, Jessie?” He put his arms behind his head and stared at my ceiling. “How much money did you end up winning this week?”

  “Enough.”

  “Enough to take an overworked and underpaid civil servant out for a few fancy dinners?” he asked hopefully.

  I reached over and pulled a seriously impressive stack of fifties and hundreds from my nightstand.

  “In Hawaii,” I said and dropped the cash onto his chest.

  The End

  Please Keep Reading

  All her sleuthing in Double Shot just about wore Jessie out. She and Wilson are headed to Hawaii for a much-needed vacation. But of course things won’t work out exactly as planned. Find out why in the third book in Cindy Blackburn’s Cue Ball Mysteries series: Three Odd Balls.

  Amazon

  Three Odd Balls - Sneak Peek

  Chapter 1

  “I’m loving it, Babe!” Louise shouted into the phone. “Love, love, loving it!!”

  I held the receiver a foot away from my ear and wondered why my literary agent even bothered using a telephone. Geez Louise Urko speaks so loudly, and with so many exclamation points, I would have heard her if she had simply opened her office window and bellowed out. Never mind that she works in Manhattan. And I live in North Carolina.

  The reason for her excitement? My South Pacific Paramour, my alter ego Adelé Nightingale’s next novel. Adelé was venturing into new and untried territory with this one. Instead of placing her energetic and altogether over-sexed lovers somewhere in Europe, sometime in the sixteenth century, Adelé had Delta Touchette and Skylar Staggs seeking adventure and discovering romance in a tropical paradise.

  “In the nineteenth century no less!” Louise was shouting. “It’s, like, practically a contemporary, Jessica!”

  I shook my head at Louise’s math. “Maybe by Adelé Nightingale standards,” I said. “But the sixteenth century was starting to bore me.”

  “Oh, absolutely! All those lords and dukes and earls, with their castles and turrets and dungeons? They were getting downright dreary.”

  “And this new setting makes sense.” I winked at my cat Snowflake. “What w
ith Wilson and I heading to Hawaii tomorrow for seven days of sun and fun.”

  “You’ll be inspired, Jessica! A vacation is just the ticket!”

  Speaking of which, I remembered the task at hand and returned to packing. “Heck,” I said as I dropped a tube of sunscreen into the suitcase on my bed. “I may even be able to write off part of this vacation as a research expense. The IRS doesn’t need to know I never bother with anything so tedious as actual research, do they?” I rummaged around in the closet for the ridiculous pair of daisy-adorned flip flops I had purchased for the trip. “But no.” I stood up, flip flops in hand. “I’m far too law-abid—”

  “Oh my God!” Louise interrupted. “I just had a fantastical idea, Jessica! I mean, beyond fantastical!”

  “Oh?” I tossed the new shoes onto the bed, where Snowflake took immediate interest in the fake daisies.

  “I’m coming!” she shouted.

  My face dropped. “Excuse me?”

  “To Hawaii! With you! And Wilson! What an utterly fantastical idea! I’ll meet you there!”

  My face dropped a little further with each new exclamation point, and I struggled to find my voice as Geez Louise continued on her merry and insane way.

  “I need a vacation,” she shouted. “And I’ve never been to Hawaii! And I’ve never met that hunky heartthrob of yours! The man who inspired Adelé Nightingale to new heights of sexual fantasy? I am dying, dying, dying to meet Wilson Rye the mystery man for myself. I must meet your paramour, Jessica! Must, must, must!”

  “But now?” I squeaked. “During my vacation?”

  “Yes, now! Of course, now! I can help you with him.”

  “Help?” I took the sandals away from Snowflake and hid them in the suitcase.

  “Yes, help! I’ll help you uncover the mystery man’s deep dark secrets! You know how you’ve been wondering about his past, Jessica? Well, just leave it to Louise! By the end of this vacation, all will be revealed. Every single, scintillating detail. The man will be an open book, I tell you. Oh! And that gives me another idea, Jessica!”

  “I think I need to sit down,” I said.

  “The plot for My South Pacific Paramour! I’ll help you with that, too! No more plot plight for Adelé Nightingale. We’ll lounge by the pool, sip silly drinks—you know, the kind with little umbrellas in them—and brainstorm together. I can’t wait! Can’t, can’t, can’t!”

  I sat motionless and blinked at the cat.

  Louise cleared her throat. “Now then,” she said, all business-like. “Tell me your exact travel plans.”

  I was so stunned I actually did so.

  Snowflake was still staring at me as I hung up the phone . “Wilson is going to kill me,” I told her.

  The cat did not argue.

  ***

  “Oh now, Honeybunch, you and Wilson just go on and have a grand time,” Mother said. “I don’t want you to worry about me even for one minute, do you hear?”

  My mother might not have the lungs of Louise Urko, and she definitely needed the aid of the telephone, but I heard her loud and clear. I again cringed at the cat and wondered why I had ever chosen to answer my phone that day.

  “No, Mother,” I argued as I arranged a stack of shorts into suitcase number two. “I cannot go off and have this grand time you’re insisting on, knowing you’ll be alone for Christmas. Why aren’t you going to Danny’s? Wasn’t that the plan?”

  The fact is, I had never, in all my fifty-two years, spent a Christmas away from my mother. So when Wilson and I planned our Hawaiian vacation, I took pains to be sure she could visit my brother Danny and his family for the holiday. But, as Mother was now informing me, Danny’s wife Capers had decided otherwise.

  “Capers says she needs a vacation, too,” Mother explained. “They’re taking the twins to Saint Martin for the holiday.”

  “And they just informed you of this today?” I gave up on packing and plopped down on the bed.

  “Oh, Jessie, please don’t be mad at me.”

  I hastened to tell my mother that I most certainly was not angry with her, but with my hapless brother and his inconsiderate wife, who lives to make my life difficult. Of course, Capers wouldn’t tolerate me, Jessica Hewitt, enjoying a fun-filled tropical vacation if she couldn’t do so herself. So of course, she made these last minute plans. And of course, she thought nothing of leaving my eighty-two-year-old mother in the lurch.

  “The Live Oaks is planning a very nice Christmas party for us residents,” Mother was saying. “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

  She was putting up a brave front, but I knew she wasn’t looking forward to spending Christmas without any family, even if she did have lots of friends at The Live Oaks Center for Retirement Living.

  I pursed my lips and made an executive decision. “You’ll come with us,” I said. I ignored Snowflake’s shocked expression and headed toward my desk.

  Mother started protesting, but I was already getting online to see about her plane tickets on such short notice. While she repeated over and over that she wouldn’t dream of interfering in my vacation, I played with the internet and made her reservations. The Hawaiian gods were smiling on me—there was even space available at the resort where Wilson and I were staying.

  Interrupting a rather involved description of the elaborate Christmas Eve dinner The Live Oaks was promising, I gave my mother her flight information. I had gotten her on the early morning flight from her home in Columbia, South Carolina to Atlanta.

  “Wilson and I will meet you at the Atlanta airport,” I said. “And from there, the three of us can fly together.” I tapped on the keyboard some more. “Believe it or not, they even had a last minute cancellation at the place we’re staying. Soooo,” I hit the enter key, “I’ve just booked you a bungalow at The Wakilulani Garden Resort. Wilson keeps calling it the Wacky Gardens. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

  “Jessica Hewitt!” she scolded. “You are not listening to me. I will not be ruining your vacation with that darling beau of yours. I will not be a third wheel, so you just cancel those reservations this minute!”

  “Non-refundable,” I argued. “And besides, you won’t be a third wheel, but a fourth. Louise Urko is meeting us there, too.”

  Mother skipped a beat. “Geez Louise is coming?” she asked, her tone considerably brighter. “Well then, I’d better start packing, hadn’t I? What should I bring, Jessie?”

  I told her to remember a bathing suit and hung up.

  Snowflake was watching me. “Wilson is going to kill me,” I said quietly.

  Once again, the cat did not argue.

  ***

  “You’re gonna kill me,” Wilson informed me the second he made it through the door of my condo. He’s a big guy, but even he was struggling with everything he was lugging. He turned around and gestured to the bottle of champagne he had tucked under one elbow, and I grabbed it before it fell.

  “Hopefully that will keep you in a good mood, despite my news,” he said as he set down his luggage and the huge cat carrier he was holding. He bent over to open the door and glanced up. “Ready?”

  “Of course we’re ready.” I offered an encouraging nod to my cat. “We’re looking forward to seeing our new friends, aren’t we, Snowflake?”

  She yowled and jumped to the top of the refrigerator.

  Okay, so maybe not. But Wally was banging his skinny black body into the door of the cage, and Wilson did the honors anyway. Out Wally popped, and right behind him came Wilson’s other cat, an enormous calico named Bernice.

  She took a moment to glower at Snowflake, yawned dramatically, and found a corner of my couch for her next nap. Meanwhile, Wally had located a jingle-bell ball under the coffee table and started flicking it across the floor and going for the chase.

  Wilson sat down with Bernice. “You still think this will work, right?”

  I sure did hope so. I poured the champagne and reviewed our cat-care plans. My downstairs neighbor and good friend Candy Poppe had volunteered to look aft
er our pets while we were away. So far, so good. But her offer rested on all three cats staying at my place for the week. And what if Wally and Bernice didn’t like my place? Or what if Snowflake wasn’t the most gracious hostess?

  With the what-ifs in mind, we’d been practicing for days, and Wilson had been bringing his cats over for play dates. Thus far, no one had actually played together. But then again, no one had started fighting either. I decided to take that as a positive sign.

  “Our cats are not going to kill each other,” I reassured everyone. I took a seat beside Wilson and handed him a glass. “But you may kill me.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, umm, Louise called this afternoon,” I began in the breeziest voice I could muster. “She’s very excited about my new book.”

  “Isn’t Geez Louise always excited?” He clicked my glass. “To Hawaii.”

  “In fact,” I continued, undeterred, “she became so enthused with the tropical paradise theme Adele Nightingale is planning, that you’ll never guess what she’s decided to do.” I tilted my head and waited for him to guess.

  His face dropped. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I grimaced. “She’s meeting us in Hawaii! Please don’t kill me.” I grimaced again and kept going. “Louise has no family at all, Wilson. She considers me her family. And it is Christmas. And she wants to help me with my book. And—” I stopped and tried to think of more excuses. “And, umm—” Nothing more was coming to me, but when I hazarded a glance sideways, Wilson was actually grinning. Indeed, he seemed altogether disinclined to kill me.

  “Are you feeling well?” I asked and then repeated that Geez Louise Urko would be joining us on our vacation. “She pulled a few strings and booked herself a last minute bungalow at the Wakilulani Gardens and everything.”

  He kept grinning.

  I eyed him suspiciously. “What exactly is the bad news you have for me?”

  ***

  Whatever it was, Wilson’s news would have to wait—Bernice was on the move. She hopped down from the couch, yawned expansively, and in typical Bernice-fashion, sauntered past several cat toys, ignored Wally’s invitation to play, and found the food dish. Snowflake’s food dish. Wilson and Snowflake were on it in a flash.