4 Four Play Read online

  “How about, I have Wilson on speed-dial.”

  Now that got a reaction. My guest emitted a rather creative string of four-letter words.

  “That was educational,” I said when she came up for air.

  “Prison was good for something.”

  “I enjoy learning new words,” I said for lack of anything better. “I’m a writer.”

  “I know who you are. A copy of Everlasting Encounter floated around my cellblock for over a year. I read it four times.”

  “Thank you.”

  “There was nothing else to read.”

  I folded my arms and glared, and told Ms. Calloway she had a choice. “You can tell me why you’re here, or I can call Wilson, or I can threaten you with my paring knife. Take your pick.”

  “Would you give me a break?” She let out an elaborate sigh. “I was curious about you, okay? Haven’t you been curious about me?”

  I swallowed a sigh of my own, mumbled something about regretting this later, and went back to the living room. “Don’t you live in Raleigh?” I asked.

  She did. But apparently she was in Clarence for the day, visiting an uncle.

  “Uncle John is the only person in my family who’s still talking to me,” she said. “He keeps me posted on Wilson and you.”

  My mouth dropped. “You’re spying on us?”

  She told me not to flatter myself. “I’m only here to see my uncle.”

  “You’re in my home, Dianne. And you’ve already admitted you’re curious.”

  “Jimmy Beak certainly thinks you’re curious.”

  “Would you please leave?” I said cordially.

  I meant my condo, but Dianne pretended to misunderstand. She told me she was due back in Raleigh the next day. “I have rules to follow, you know?”

  No, I didn’t know. But I assumed the rules had something to do with parole. “Well then!” I stood up. “You need to go home and get some rest.”

  She remained seated.

  I swung my arms back and forth toward the door to clarify my intensions.

  She remained seated.

  “When’s the wedding?” she asked, and I dropped my arms.

  She smirked. “You’re stalling.”

  “Speaking of which, you can leave now.”

  “I don’t blame you for stalling. When it comes to Wilson, you should be cautious.”

  I folded my arms and glared. Or maybe I was already doing that.

  “Nooo,” she sang and pretended to assess her manicure. “I don’t see you guys marrying at all. And I have excellent intuition about these things.”

  “You need to leave,” I said.

  She was busy with the smirking, and I was busy trying to quell the nausea, when the phone rang.

  “Saved by the bell!” she chirped as I stepped away to answer. “I bet that’s Wilson.”

  “Yes, Dianne.” I picked up the phone. “You’re downright brilliant.”

  ***

  “Who’s brilliant?” Wilson asked.

  “Umm. Snowflake.”

  “You two feel like company?”

  “Two?” I blinked at my unwanted guest.

  “You and Snowflake. Are you okay, Jessie? Did I call too late?”

  I told him that wasn’t exactly the issue and asked where he was.

  “At the corner. I’m on my way up,” he said and clicked off.

  ***

  “Shiiiiiit!”

  I repeated the sentiment several times and gestured frantically for Dianne to stand up. “Would you get out of here, already!” I said, and the woman finally got the hint.

  She stood up and strolled—and I do mean strolled—toward my door.

  I rushed ahead, opened the door, and waved both arms. Maybe the air current would move her along.

  “You have got to get out of here,” I said in case it still wasn’t clear. “Wilson is on his way!”

  “I knew that.” She tapped her temple. “Intuition.”

  “Yeah, right.” I pushed her over the threshold. “Even my cat could tell you what’s going on here.”

  In fact, Snowflake jumped onto the kitchen counter, presumably to have a better view of the world war that promised to ensue if Wilson Rye found Dianne Calloway on my doorstep.

  “He uses the stairs,” I said as I none-too-gently prodded her into the elevator. I pushed the down button and said a little prayer of thanks when the door closed.

  “What are you doing pacing around out here?” Wilson was on the top step when I twirled around.

  “Oh!” I exclaimed and then caught myself.

  “Ohhhh,” I tried again. “Umm, I was acting out a scene from my book.” I waved a hand at nothing in particular. “Trying to get the timing just right.”

  “It must be some fast-paced timing,” he said as he stepped inside my condo. “You’re all sweaty.”

  ***

  I laughed nonchalantly, or perhaps hysterically, and was even more giddy when Wilson made a beeline for my coffee table. Surely my supply of Sensual and Scintillating would distract him. It had all my other guests.

  But no. He stood over the table, his back to me, and I remembered the incriminating champagne glasses Gabby and I had been using.

  “Candy was here earlier,” I lied.

  “She give you this?” He turned around with my Clarence High School Hall Pass dangling from his fingertips, and I made a giant leap across the room.

  I grabbed the lanyard and whisked it away to the kitchen.

  “What is that?” Wilson was following me.

  “Oh, nothing.” I rummaged around in my junk drawer looking for a place to hide the stupid thing. “It’s my Hall of Fame badge.” That sounded good. “Roslynn delivered it this morning. You remember? She was here this morning?”

  “Your what?”

  “My Romance Writers Hall of Fame badge.” I concentrated on maintaining a straight face. “Perpetual Pleasures Press asked Roslynn to present it to me. They didn’t want to put it in the mail. It’s quite an honor, you see.”

  “No, I don’t see.” He was struggling to get a view around me. “Especially since you’re hiding it under your hammer.”

  I slammed the drawer shut.

  He backed off and studied me. I concentrated on looking innocent.

  “What is that thing?” He pointed to the kitchen drawer but kept his eyes on me. “Who’s been drinking your champagne?” He pointed to the glasses on the coffee table. “And who was in the elevator?”

  “Elevator?” I asked. “What elevator?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m so happy you don’t have a car right now. Whatever you’re up to, you’re home and staying out of trouble.”

  I had news for the guy.

  But deftly avoiding the what’s-Jessie-been-up-to tangent of conversation, I steered him toward that popular spot on my couch, and pointed out the nearest copy of S and S. And lo and behold, he picked up the book.

  I winked at Snowflake and headed back to the kitchen. “Champagne?” I asked.

  “What I could really use is some bourbon.”

  ***

  He got champagne.

  “How was your day?” I asked as Snowflake and I sat down. “Did you find the killer?”

  “I found nothing.” Wilson frowned at his bubbly. “There’s no motive. Miriam Jilton was well-liked and a good teacher. Pretty tough, by all accounts.”

  “So I hear—” I cleared my throat. “Could a disgruntled student have killed her?”

  “Densmore’s looking into it.” Wilson caught my eye and told me there was another possibility involving students. “It has a connection to you.”

  “Oh?”

  “Miriam Jilton was the judge for that essay contest you got fired from.”

  It took me a moment to figure out he meant Focus on Fiction.

  “It wasn’t essays,” I corrected. “It was fiction—short stories to be exact.” I shook my incredulous head. “Miriam Jilton ended up judging that?”

  “Interes
ting, huh?”

  I agreed the coincidence was astonishing, and Wilson explained the details. Apparently there had been some controversy about the winner. Ms. Jilton picked three finalists, but only one student won the thousand-dollar scholarship for college.

  “The two runners up were pretty unhappy,” he said.

  “And one of them killed her? That seems pretty far-fetched.”

  “That’s the problem. It’s not much of a motive. And we’ve checked them. And their parents.”

  I cringed. “Maybe it’s a good thing I got fired.”

  Wilson agreed being the town pornographer did have its advantages and mentioned my license plate. “That’s still the million-dollar question,” he said. “Jilton was having an affair. And the killer was making a statement.”

  “Have you found her phone?”

  He shook his head and told me Lieutenant Densmore was checking her phone records and e-mails instead. “We’ll have the answer soon enough.” He groaned. “But not nearly soon enough for Superintendent Yikes and Rita Sistina.”

  “Have they been in touch?” I asked oh so casually.

  “Pestering me all day. You’ll be happy to know Dr. Yikes is not acc—”

  “—accustomed to waiting,” I said.

  Oops.

  Wilson stared at me. “What have you been up to?”

  “On, nothing,” I said. “But I think I read somewhere that Dr. Yates is rather impatient?”

  He kept staring. “Rita Sistina’s not much on patience, either. You might be a little scary, but that woman’s a lot scary.”

  Speaking of which, Dianne Calloway popped into mind, and I whimpered slightly.

  “What are you up to?” Wilson repeated, and I wondered if I should ask him the same thing.

  ***

  I suggested it was time for bed and stood up to clear our glasses. “I assume Loretta is on cat-care duty at the shack?”

  “It’s not a shack, and yes.” Wilson stood up and stretched, and we agreed how lucky he was to have a cat-loving neighbor. Loretta Springfield adored Bernice and Wally, and the feeling was mutual. Good thing, since Wilson had to leave his cats alone a lot.

  “If you lived with me, Bernice and Wally wouldn’t be cooped up all alone,” he said as we got ready for bed.

  “They have each other, and Loretta, and their cat door onto the porch,” I said. “And if Snowflake and I weren’t here, you’d be driving out to the boondocks right now.”

  “If you lived out in the boondocks, you wouldn’t have to worry about Alistair Pritt protesting outside your door.”

  I thought of a retort as we brushed our teeth.

  “If you arrested Alistair, he wouldn’t be able to protest,” I said as we climbed into bed. “Does he even have a permit?”

  “Not today, he didn’t. It’s Sunday.”

  I refused to lie down. “I can’t believe you let him stay out there illegally! You should have done something.”

  “Think, Jessie. What would happen if someone from the department cleared Pritt off the street?”

  I had to agree it would only give Jimmy Beak more ammunition against me. He’d have a field day claiming the police were offering me undeserved protection due to my relationship with Wilson.

  “And it’s not like Pritt’s a violent criminal,” Wilson said. “I had Sergeant Sass check.”

  “I’m surprised you bothered. Alistair must be low on your priority list right now.”

  Wilson reminded me he doesn’t like coincidences. “This sudden book-banning craze at the same time as the murder? I don’t like it.”

  “I’m not too crazy about it either,” I said. “Did Tiffany learn anything incriminating?” Dare I say, I was hopeful? Sergeant Tiffany Sass is a good cop, and very thorough.

  But unfortunately Wilson shook his head. “Pritt’s a law-abiding citizen, with lots of law-abiding family. No connection to Jilton.”

  I sighed dramatically and slipped under the covers. “I assume all those law-abiding family members are helping him with his protest?”

  “Yep. According to Sass, they’re also manning the coffee shop. He’ll have plenty of free time to harass you again tomorrow.”

  “Oh goody,” I said and turned off the light.

  Chapter 11

  Willow LaSwann stood at the edge of her property and gazed at the house in the distance. Kipp Jupiter’s house. She sighed dramatically and her bosom strained its bonds. Pretending to be a man was so very difficult. But what choice did she have?

  Willow recollected Uncle Hazard’s final warning.

  “Beware!” he had written in his last missive. “Guard your true identity, my dear Willow, or the varmints who call themselves your neighbors will eat you alive. They’ll seize your property and drive you out of town. That is, if you’re lucky!”

  Willow shuddered at the thought of it.

  Kipp Jupiter couldn’t be one of those varmints, could he? Why, that very morning he had come by for a nice neighborly chat. “About the water situation,” he said.

  But as Mr. Jupiter started explaining the problem with her well, Willow felt herself blushing and had shooed him away. Indeed, she had treated him as if he were nothing more than a vicious hornet pestering her cattle!

  But what if Uncle Hazard was wrong? What if Kipp Jupiter wasn’t a varmint at all?

  Willow vowed to find out. She would saddle up her horse Sparkle and ride into town that very day! Surely someone in Hogan’s Hollow could tell her the true nature of Kipp Jupiter’s character.

  Willow strode over to her barn with new resolve. Today was the day! The day she would learn whether Kipp Jupiter was a good guy or a bad guy.

  “I hope he’s a good guy!” she exclaimed to Sparkle.

  ***

  “Oh, for Lord’s sake, Willow! Of course he’s a good guy!” I hit the off button on my computer with far more gusto than necessary, and Snowflake tore her eyes from the scene below to glance over.

  I curled my lip at the bad guys on Sullivan Street and phoned Karen.

  “Ready for some sleuthing?” I asked her.

  “I’m surprised you’re still up to it. I take it you didn’t watch Jimmy Beak’s report this morning?”

  I blinked twice. “Why?”

  “Girlfriend! Haven’t you heard of keeping your friends close and your enemies even closer?”

  I reminded Karen my enemies were close enough. “Right below my window, to be exact.”

  “Which is exactly where they were when Wilson left this morning.”

  “Excuse me? Wilson left at six a.m. to get back to work. Surely Alistair didn’t start that early?”

  “No, but Jimmy Beak and his cameraman did. They were in our parking lot when Wilson got out there.”

  I rolled my eyes. “And let me guess. This encounter made it onto the news?”

  “Oh yeah. Jimmy made a big deal about catching him red-handed—spending the night with you without the benefit of wedlock.”

  “He actually said that?”

  “You think I could make this stuff up? He accused Wilson of cavorting with the enemy, and then accused him of illicit and licentious behavior.”

  I scowled. “I’m surprised Jimmy knows how to use licentious in a sentence.”

  “That’s exactly what Wilson said.”

  ***

  “Lookee what I have.” I stood in Karen’s doorway proudly jiggling the hall pass dangling from my neck. “Gabby Yates herself gave it to me.”

  “Yates as in Yikes?” Karen seemed skeptical, but I insisted it made perfect sense and explained the deal Superintendent Yates and I had brokered the evening before.

  “So you see?” I said. “Everyone wants me to solve this murder. Even Gabby.”

  “I can’t believe she lets you call her Gabby?” Karen motioned me into her condo while I outlined the plan.

  “You’ll use your hall pass to talk to the janitor, and I’ll use mine to interview the principal and some teachers. We’ll make an excellent team.”<
br />
  “Speaking of which, Kiddo feels left out.”

  “Not anymore. I called her at work and gave her an assignment.” I grinned. “A task that has Candy Poppe written all over it.”

  “You’re a little scary,” Karen told me.

  I pointed to the huge dining room hutch and table parked in the middle of her living room and argued the same could be said for her. Karen’s condo is in reality her carpentry workshop, replete with tools, power tools, and—

  “What is that smell?” I asked.

  “Varnish.” She went around the room switching several industrial-sized fans to high. “The first coat’s always the worst,” she yelled over the din. She took off her tool belt and hoisted it over her shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I hope you’re okay with taking time away from your work,” I asked as we stepped out to the lobby.

  Karen explained her latest project as she locked her door. “The Fister-Bickerson wedding is this Saturday,” she said. “Between their parents and the bride’s extended family, the happy couple will have every piece of furniture ever invented by mankind. In size large.”

  “And let me guess. You’re in charge of building it all.”

  “I can handle it. But I can’t handle them.” She pointed to the outside door looming before us, and presumably to the bad guys on the other side. “What’s your getaway plan?”

  “Let’s do it the old-fashioned way,” I said.

  She turned slowly and glared. “Meaning we’ll make a run for it and hope for the best.”

  “You know we can outrun Alistair.”

  “Yeah, and what about Jimmy?”

  I had to agree Jimmy was far more nimble on his feet. “But his cameraman is almost as clunky as Alistair,” I said optimistically. “By the time he gets the camera rolling, we’ll be halfway down Sullivan Street.”

  Karen shook her head. “Your getaway plan stinks,” she told me.

  ***

  Maybe so, but it worked.

  We peeked out the door, and when Alistair turned his back, Karen and I made a run for it.

  Ace reporter that he is, Jimmy Beak saw us, or else he heard Karen’s tool belt clanking. He raced right over and reached us just as we dove into the van.

  Karen threw her tool belt at me and locked the doors while I complained that hammers hurt when they hit your lap.

  “The public has a right to know!” Jimmy rapped on my window.