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Authors: Joelle Charbonneau

Murder for Choir (29 page)

BOOK: Murder for Choir
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“Your friend Mr. O’Shea dropped by.”

My heart jumped. “Devlyn was here? Why?”

“I don’t read minds so I can’t help you there. He knocked
on the door, dialed someone on his cell—which I’m assuming was you—and got back in his car.”

Huh. Maybe he left a message. I unzipped my purse and went diving for my cell phone. Sure enough. Devlyn wanted to know if I was okay and told me to call him tomorrow. I was touched. Yes, the guy had a secret, but my gut told me it wasn’t murder.

“Devlyn was checking up on me. He’s a nice guy.”

“I’m sure he is.”

My stomach clenched at Mike’s tone. “But?”

“But what? If you like him, that’s your business. It only becomes my business if he kills someone.”

“But he didn’t kill anyone. Right?”

Mike took one look at my face and sighed. “What do you think you know that I should know? Something happened at the memorial service today, right?”

I considered my options. Ratting Devlyn out to Mike wasn’t high on my “like” list. But if Devlyn was a killer, not ratting him out could land me six feet under. Since I wasn’t interested in eternal rest, I said, “Devlyn ducked out in the middle of the service. I thought he was looking for me so I followed him.” Mike’s expression didn’t budge as I told him about Coach Bennett’s desire to have Drew Roane back on the team and his threat to reveal Devlyn’s deep, dark secret.

When I was done, Mike smiled and said, “Well, if Devlyn didn’t have an airtight alibi that would have put him on the top of my list. Too bad.”

An airtight alibi was good. So, “Why is it too bad?”

Mike gave me a grim smile. “Because I don’t like the guy.”

“Why?”

“It’s a guy thing.” He closed the gap between us so I could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“What kind of guy thing?”

“This kind.”

The last time I was surprised into immobility. This time I saw it coming. I should have ducked, run, or pointed the pink pistol at him. Instead, I let him kiss me. Worse yet, I enjoyed it. His lips were warm, and his arms felt safe as he pulled me against him. Safe was something I hadn’t had a lot of in recent days, and the feeling had an aphrodisiac effect. I threw myself into the kiss with an abandon I wasn’t aware I possessed.

My hands wove into Mike’s curly hair and pulled him closer. Mike made a groaning sound deep in his throat that made me feel more daring. I pulled my mouth away from his and nipped at his neck. He smelled like woodsy pine-scented soap. I wasn’t an outdoor person, but in this case I was ready to make an exception.

Mike’s warm hands slid up and down my bare back, sending sparks of excitement shivering through me. My body wanted even more while my brain warned this was a bad idea. His fingers dipped toward the fabric covering my behind, and my brain shut down. Then Mike’s mouth disappeared, and he took three steps back.

Not again. I shivered as my body yearned for the warmth of his. “What’s wrong?” As if I didn’t know.

“We agreed this was a bad idea.” Mike sounded like he’d run a marathon. Well, I hoped he was in shape, because he was really going to start running now.

“I never agreed to anything.”

“This morning we said—”

“This morning you said kissing me was a mistake. Silly me for thinking that when you kissed me tonight it meant you’d changed your mind.”

“Cops can’t get involved with witnesses.” Yeah, I’d heard that line before. “I’d like nothing better than to hop into bed with you, but—”

“You think I was going to sleep with you?” Blood rushed to my head, and my fingers curled into fists. Mike took a step back and had the nerve to look confused. Cop school must have taught him not to engage a pissed-off woman, because he didn’t say anything. Which was good, because I had plenty to say. “Look. Just because I was blowing off a little sexual steam after being shot at and scared to death doesn’t mean I was going to hop into bed with you. I don’t sleep around.”

Mike took a step back. “I didn’t say you did.”

“Really? Because that isn’t what I heard.” My voice rang in the foyer. Yeah, I could be loud when I wanted to be, and I really wanted Mike to pay attention. And if Aunt Millie woke up, so much the better. She’d taken another swing at matchmaking and had struck out so hard she’d landed her butt in the mud. “The next time your hand touches my ass I’m ordering Killer to chew it off. Got it?”

Mike didn’t get it. He gave me a condescending smile and said, “I apologize for getting carried away. Seeing you in this getup distracted me. Friends?”

Not on your life.

I marched over to the door and flung it open, careful to stay out of the doorway. If the shooter was out there, I wanted him to have a clear shot—at Mike.

Mike looked at me for a moment, then sighed and sauntered toward the door. “You know, this case won’t last forever. Once it’s over, you might change your mind about the friends thing. Who knows where it might lead.”

He smiled at me from the stoop. I smiled back and
slammed the door. The sound of click, click, click echoed through the foyer as Killer walked in. “You’re late,” I snapped as I stalked upstairs and peeled off my evening attire. As far as I was concerned, this evening was over and good riddance.

Once again, Killer took up residence in my bed, but this time it wasn’t his cover hogging that kept me awake. Devlyn had an alibi for Greg’s murder. That put him in the clear, which was good. It also meant I was back to square one.

I tried closing my eyes and counting sheep, but instead found myself going over the suspect list. Coach Bennett enlisted Devlyn to help get his star player back. Patience didn’t strike me as one of Coach’s virtues, so he might have opted to take out his competition instead of waiting for Devlyn to succeed where he had failed.

Still, my gut said that for all his blustering, Coach Bennett’s bark was worse than his bite. That might not be good enough for the cops, but I was operating on a different proof threshold. Besides, after tonight both the coach and his wife were never going to talk with me. Unless I found a new source for information, I was at a dead end with them. Time to move on.

Only, where to? Larry had great motive and opportunity, only the guy was gone, leaving a trail of blood and a trashed house in his wake. My stomach rolled. Larry wasn’t my best friend, but the thought of him injured or worse was freaking me out. He might be guilty, but my gut believed someone wanted Larry out of the way. Why? Was it because Larry knew who the killer was? Devlyn seemed to think he did. Wait. Maybe Larry provided the killer with her alibi on the night her ex-husband was killed?

The more I thought about it, the more likely that seemed. Too bad Detective Mike already ruled out Dana as a suspect
because of her alibi. That meant if I wanted to turn over that particular rock, I’d have to do it myself.

What the hell was that? Oof. I bolted awake as Killer scrambled over me, onto the carpet, and out the door, barking all the way. I heard Millie scream, and my feet hit the floor. Hurtling down the stairs, I raced for the kitchen, then changed directions as Millie screamed again. The front door was open. Millie was outside.

Blood pounding in my ears, I grabbed the pink gun off the hall table, ran through the front door, and felt my heart stop. Sitting in the middle of the driveway was a flaming car.

My car. And Aunt Millie was climbing into it.

“Aunt Millie, stop!”

Millie didn’t look up. Black smoke rose from the hood of my Cobalt as my bare feet flew down the stoop and across the driveway. I grabbed Millie as she was ready to dive into the car and pulled her back. Now that I could see into the car, I understood why Millie was acting crazy. Aldo was slumped over the steering wheel—out cold or dead. I had no idea which.

“Call the fire department and stay back,” I yelled as I approached the car. The flames seemed contained to the engine—for now. I had no idea how long it would take before they spread. The car radiated with heat as I grabbed Aldo’s arm and pulled.

Shit. He was belted in.

Carefully, I positioned Aldo’s shiny head back against the seat and leaned over to deal with the seat belt. Damn it. Drops of sweat stung my eyes as I tried to find the release button. It had to be here. I took a deep breath and started to
choke. The smoke was getting thick. Aldo’s head slumped into my chest as my fingers found the seat belt release and set him free.

I shifted Also so his back was facing me. Then I wrapped my arms around his torso and pulled him free. Ugh. The little guy was heavier than he looked.

“Is he okay?” Millie appeared behind me. “Aldo?”

I didn’t answer. Between the smoke inhalation and my uncertainty about Aldo’s condition, I figured it was best not to try. Instead, I focused on dragging him to the relative safety of the grass. Kneeling down next to him, I took his hand and felt for a pulse. Relief washed through me. “He’s alive.” It was then that I noticed his state of dress. Or undress. Aldo was wearing a white tank, black boxer shorts, white tube socks, and black dress shoes.

Somewhere in the distance, I could hear sirens. A pink-robed Aunt Millie knelt next to Aldo and held his hand while telling him everything was going to be okay. I hoped she was right as I stood up and took a couple of steps closer to what used to be my car.

My legs started to shake and my throat burned as I watched the smoke billow out from the hood. This couldn’t have been an accident. I walked around so I could see inside the car. Keys were dangling from the ignition. I had no idea why Aldo had decided to take my car for a joyride, but doing so had almost cost him his life.

I couldn’t breathe. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. I was scared. Someone wanted me dead and didn’t care who they took out in the process.

Sirens screamed, and doors slammed behind me. Heavy footsteps charged up the driveway. The cavalry had arrived.

“He’s over here.” Aunt Millie’s voice traveled over the noise. She was waving her arms so hard she tilted backward
onto Aldo, who had been sitting upright. The momentum sent Millie and Aldo sprawling onto the grass.

The paramedics charged up the driveway with a stretcher and looked from Millie to Aldo, trying to decide who was the one most in need of attention. A firefighter directed me to move to the grass. I did as the firefighters turned on the hose and doused the remaining flames. The fire was out within seconds. The fear remained.

Mike’s Mustang parked at the edge of the driveway. Cop lights blinked from his back window. He climbed out and made a beeline for me.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” Detective Mike’s eyes belied his light tone. They were glittering with frustration, anger, and worry.

“Someone blew up my car.” I was a master of the obvious.

“They did a bad job. The car is still in one piece.”

“You say that as though it’s a bad thing.”

His smile was grim. “The person behind this isn’t a pro. That’s good. He’ll make a mistake.”

“He already made a mistake. Aunt Millie’s friend Aldo was in the car. Not me.” My heart squeezed as I watched the paramedics load Aldo into the ambulance waiting on the street. Millie waved at me, tightened the belt on her robe, and climbed in after him. Seconds later, the ambulance backed up and drove off.

“The fuse must have been connected to the ignition. Does anyone else typically drive your car?”

“No.” My throat clenched.

A firefighter walked over to Mike and whispered in his ear. Mike whispered back then turned to me. “I’m going to take a look at the car. Then I might have some more questions for you and your aunt. In the meantime, you should go inside and put some clothes on.”

Yikes. I was wearing an oversized Northwestern University T-shirt that reached just below my ass and nothing else. Feeling Mike’s eyes on my bare skin, I raced inside the house and locked the door behind me. My legs shook as I walked up the stairs. I reached my room, sat on the edge of the bed, and hugged a pillow to my chest as tears began to fall. My shoulder and neck muscles ached. My stomach clenched. It hurt to breathe.

Something warm and fuzzy rubbed against my bare legs. Killer jumped up on the bed and whined as he curled up next to me. I must be in bad shape if the dog that wanted me to starve was being nice.

BOOK: Murder for Choir
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