Double Shot Page 24
While Snowflake scolded her guest, Wilson spoke to me. “This will be the issue while we’re gone.” He pointed to Bernice, who was involved in an intense stare-down with my cat. “It’s the reason she’s so fat. She steals food. She eats Wally’s all the time.”
I shifted my gaze to Wally. But he had discovered one of Snowflake’s catnip mice and was completely unconcerned about the food-dish showdown. I shrugged and reminded everyone Candy had been apprised of Bernice’s dietary regimen. “She promises to make sure everyone eats only the food allotted to them.”
“Good luck, Candy,” Wilson mumbled. He picked up Bernice—no easy feat—and returned to the couch.
“Your bad news?” I asked.
He cleared his throat. “You know Chris?”
I blinked twice. “No,” I said. “I do not know Chris. Your son refuses to meet me, remember?”
“Well, he’s changed his mind. He’s tagging along.”
“With us!?” I jumped and would have spilled my champagne if Wilson hadn’t caught the glass.
“The ski trip to Vermont with his buddies fell through,” he explained and quickly put the glass back in my hand. “His roommate Larry broke his leg.”
“Excuse me?” I shook my head in dismay. “That’s what happens while one is skiing, not before.”
“Maybe. But Larry was cramming on his way to his chemistry final and wasn’t watching where he was going. Bumped into a brick wall and fell backwards down a flight of stairs.”
I groaned and took a gulp of my beverage.
Perhaps I should mention that Christopher Rye is a junior at the University of North Carolina. And yes, I had never met the guy. This, despite the fact that I had been dating his father for months, and despite the fact that Chapel Hill is quite close to Clarence, where Wilson and I live. Apparently Chris chose to hate me, sight unseen.
“Larry will be fine,” Wilson was saying. “But it ruins the ski trip. Chris sounded pretty disappointed.”
“So you asked him to join us.”
“He’s meeting us at the Atlanta airport. I can’t stand the idea of him being alone for the holidays, Jessie. The kid’s pretty independent, but.” He caught my eye. “You okay with this?”
I considered the news. “Maybe. But I thought he hated me?”
“Well,” Wilson sang. “Maybe he’s changed his mind.”
“Maybe? Chris has never even given me a chance.”
“So here’s your chance. What do you say, Jessie?”
I had to say I was quite curious to meet the Rye offspring. “Who knows?” I said. “Maybe I’ll win him over, and he’ll tell me all your deep dark secrets.” I raised an eyebrow. “Unless, of course, you’d like to do that yourself?”
Wilson kept his gaze steady and said nothing.
I sighed dramatically. “Okay, so Chris is unlikely to tell me anything of any use,” I grumbled. “But will he at least be civil to me?”
“Absolutely. But I doubt we’ll see much of him. I booked him his own bungalow at the Wacky Gardens. And if I know my son, he’ll spend the week surfing and chasing bikinis.”
Thinking the matter settled, he leaned back and relaxed. But that would just not do.
“Umm, Wilson?” I said soothingly. “Going back to the idea—your idea—that no one should be alone for the holidays? There’s one more teensy reason you may want to kill me.”
He blinked at the index finger I was holding up. “What’s that?”
“My mother.”
“Your mother, what?”
“She’s coming with us!” I blurted out and quickly dived into the whole spiel about Danny, and Capers, and the twins, and Saint Martin.
But Wilson stopped me before I had gotten very far. “Tessie Hewitt goes Hawaiian.” He offered one of his signature grins. “This, I have got to see.”
I reached out and squeezed his hand. “Mother is right about you, you know?”
“She thinks I’m darling.”
Testimony to our whimsical and flexible natures, we toasted our impending vacation and vowed to have a fantastic time, despite the three odd balls who were tagging along, and the three odd cats we were leaving behind.
It was only later that night, as I was tossing one last bathing suit into my suitcase, that a thought occurred to me.
I shooed Snowflake away as she tried to join the bathing suit and spoke to Wilson. “I wonder why the Wakilulani Gardens had so many last minute cancellations during the holiday week. I mean, isn’t it interesting that everyone got their own private bungalow? On such short notice?”
Wilson looked up from pushing Bernice out of his suitcase. “Interesting,” he agreed.
“Downright wacky,” I said and closed my suitcase.
Amazon author page
Still curious? Learn more about Jessie and her creator Cindy Blackburn at www.cueballmysteries.com. Cindy also writes a blog. Read her altogether embarrassing and exceedingly awful poetry at cueballmysteries.com/blog
Book 1: Playing With Poison
Pool shark Jessie Hewitt usually knows where the balls will fall and how the game will end. But when a body lands on her couch, and the cute cop in her kitchen accuses her of murder, even Jessie isn’t sure what will happen next. Playing With Poison is a cozy mystery with a lot of humor, a little romance, and far too much champagne.
Playing With Poison
Acknowledgements
I could not have written Double Shot without gobs of help from gobs of people. Thanks to everyone who offered me their support, encouragement, and time. I am bound to forget someone, but here goes: Jean Everett, Anne Saunders, Sharon Politi, Jane Bishop, Joanna Innes, Bob Spearman, Kathy Powell, Megan Beardsley, Betsy Blackburn, Martha Twombly, Karen Phillips, Shari Stauch, Teddy Stockwell, Sean Scapellatto, Carol Peters and my friends at the LRWA. Special super-duper mega thanks to my husband John Blackburn, my technical guru extraordinaire and my hero.
Contents
Double Shot
Copyright
For Teddy
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Please Keep Reading
Book 1: Playing With Poison
Acknowledgements