Death Rides a Pony, page 11
‘Oh, thank heaven.’ Summer breathed a weighty sigh of relief. ‘You had me worried there for a minute. The last time that happened – well, you know how it turned out …’ She shuddered.
‘The cost was very high,’ Hope agreed somberly.
Dylan looked back and forth between them with a mixture of fascination and incredulity. They paid no attention to him.
‘You’re right,’ Hope continued to her sister. ‘There are too many variables to take such a risk. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.’
‘He certainly isn’t,’ Summer concurred. Then, with a smug air, she turned to Dylan. ‘You should thank me. I just saved your bacon.’
‘You can’t be serious.’ There was no gratitude in Dylan’s tone. On the contrary, there was a good deal of derision. ‘You can’t seriously be implying that without your intervention, Hope would have placed a ghastly curse on me—’
‘Not only you,’ Summer interjected. ‘You and all of your descendants. A curse includes them, too.’
‘It doesn’t always include them,’ Hope corrected her. ‘There are some exceptions. But in most cases, yes, the curse attaches to the descendants also.’
‘I have no descendants,’ Dylan said.
‘You don’t now, but you may have in the future,’ Summer pointed out.
‘Some consider that to be unfair,’ Hope remarked. ‘The sins of the parent passing to the child.’
Summer shrugged. ‘Fairness has nothing to do with it. If a person doesn’t want to bear the consequences for themselves or their progeny, then they should take care not to get cursed in the first place. Or, in the alternative, they can get the curse lifted.’
Hope shook her head. ‘You know that’s much easier said than done. Lifting curses is quite tricky. It requires a significant amount of preparation and knowledge. There aren’t many who have the necessary skill to achieve a positive outcome.’
‘How about this for a simpler solution?’ Dylan proposed. ‘Just as they did in the olden days, kill the witch that’s responsible for the curse.’
If he was hoping to provoke their outrage or indignation with the remark, he didn’t succeed. The sisters looked at each other and laughed.
‘It won’t work,’ Summer told Dylan in between guffaws. ‘In fact, that’s the worst possible thing anyone could do. Then the curse can never be lifted. It’s made permanent for the entire bloodline.’
They were left to guess how Dylan might have responded, because in the next moment – without warning – Detective Nate stepped through the front curtains of the booth. Both Hope and Summer jumped slightly in surprise. Dylan, on the other hand, showed not the least sign of astonishment. It made Hope wonder whether he had been expecting the detective’s arrival. Was that the reason Dylan had said he had no intention of leaving?
Nate greeted them as a group, but just as he had upon his appearance at the carousel the night before, his eyes lingered on Summer, making it amply clear that he held no grudge regarding the prior evening’s course of events or conversation. Any residual embarrassment or awkward feelings on Summer’s part also seemed to have been forgotten, because she gave Nate a warm welcome.
‘Busy day so far?’ Dylan asked him.
‘Horrible. Absolutely horrible. I haven’t been able to stop for even a second to catch my breath.’ Nate sank wearily into an empty chair next to Dylan. ‘Not that there’s any air to catch in this miserable weather.’
‘You can take that chair instead,’ Summer offered, motioning toward the one that she had recently vacated in front of the fan. ‘It’ll give you a little breeze, at least.’
‘Thanks’ – Nate gave her an appreciative nod – ‘but I’m fine here. To be honest, I just don’t want to get up again. And I apologize for being late.’
‘Late?’ she inquired.
Nate glanced at his watch. ‘Dylan and I agreed to an earlier time.’
That answered one of Hope’s questions. Dylan had indeed been expecting the detective’s arrival at the booth.
‘It’s not a problem,’ Dylan told him. ‘Although you did miss an extremely interesting dialogue. Just before you came in, the sisters were instructing me that a curse can’t be lifted by killing the witch that’s responsible for it.’
Nate appeared momentarily startled. Then he exchanged a look with Dylan. It gave Hope the distinct impression that the two men had previously discussed – at least once and possibly more often – her and Summer’s connection with the mystical world.
‘That’s a helpful piece of information,’ Nate remarked, betraying a hint of a smile. ‘I’ll be sure to remember it the next time I encounter a witch’s hex.’
Hope was keen to switch the subject as quickly as she could, but Summer – who didn’t seem to have noticed either the look or the smile – spoke first.
‘A hex isn’t synonymous with a curse,’ she said.
The hint of a smile resurfaced. ‘It isn’t?’
‘No. A curse can be a hex,’ Summer explained. ‘But not all hexes are curses.’
Nate and Dylan exchanged another look.
Again, Hope tried to shift the topic, and again Summer pre-empted her.
‘For example, there are plenty of harmless hexes. There are no harmless curses, however. Isn’t that right, Hope?’
The three of them collectively turned toward Hope, awaiting her response. Summer was earnest. Nate was now openly smiling. Dylan was nearly grinning. Hope threw Dylan an irritated glance, and then she addressed Nate.
‘So what brings you to our booth, Detective?’ Although she recalled what Morris had told them earlier about Nate intending to stop by with regard to some unanswered questions from the evening before, she added politely, ‘Business or pleasure?’
‘You could try getting a palm reading,’ Dylan suggested to him. ‘But I must warn you that it’s not an easy thing to attain. I paid more than my fair share’ – he indicated the tickets that were still lying on the table in front of them – ‘and I was summarily denied. Perhaps fortune will shine more favorably on you.’
Nate chuckled. ‘I’m sorry to say that I don’t have any tickets.’
‘No tickets would be required for you,’ Summer responded sweetly. ‘Consider it complimentary in appreciation for your job as a first responder. Like a gratis cup of coffee at a restaurant.’
‘Except gratis cups aren’t allowed anymore,’ he told her. ‘There have been memos from the higher-ups declaring that the receipt of free coffee – or any other complimentary beverage – smacks of graft, bribery, and corruption.’
‘That’s absurd!’ Summer protested. ‘Obviously, you can’t accept a case of wine or a keg of beer, but how on earth could receiving a bottle of water or a can of soda be viewed as crooked?’
Nate shrugged. ‘I can’t explain it. But I learned a long time ago that, in my line of work, I don’t make the rules.’
‘And the people who do make the rules,’ Dylan said, ‘have clearly never gotten up from behind their cushy desk or worked a shift longer than eight hours.’
‘Ain’t that the truth,’ Nate agreed.
‘Well, if Hope and I had any coffee or soda in the booth to give to you, we’d definitely violate that stupid policy—’ Summer interrupted herself with an excited shout. ‘Wait, I have a much better idea! You can come with us to the Green Goat this evening, and we’ll treat you to a cocktail there!’
Even in the limited light, Hope could see Nate’s ears grow slightly pink.
‘Drinks at the Green Goat? That sounds great,’ he began eagerly, only to stop with a gloomy sigh. ‘But I can’t make any promises. It depends on how the investigation is proceeding.’
‘Of course.’ Summer nodded. ‘We understand. But if you can manage to find the time, we’d love for you to join us. A seat – along with a cocktail – will be reserved especially for you!’
The ears became pinker, and Nate responded suavely, ‘I’d rather treat you to the cocktail.’
It was Summer’s turn to flush.
Doing her best to suppress a smile, Hope glanced at Dylan to see if he was as entertained by the exchange as she was. She found him already looking at her, his expression expectant. It wasn’t difficult for her to guess what he wanted.
‘Feel free to join us tonight, too, Dylan,’ Hope said.
It was a tepid offer, primarily because she was still annoyed at his comments about her palm readings. But now that the number of participants in the Green Goat expedition appeared to be growing, it seemed somehow inevitable that Dylan should be included, no matter how reluctantly on Hope’s part.
‘How can I refuse such an enthusiastic invitation?’ Dylan remarked dryly.
Apparently, Summer hadn’t forgotten his comments, either, because she replied with equal dryness, ‘Consider yourself lucky that you got any invitation at all. If you want unbridled enthusiasm, have another dinner with Larkin. I’m sure that she would be thrilled to fawn and flatter your ego.’
Dylan glared at her.
‘Larkin?’ Nate questioned. ‘I met someone named Larkin earlier today.’ He pulled out a notepad and began thumbing through the pages. ‘It was while I was talking to Morris. She was assisting him in some fashion.’
‘That’s Larkin,’ Dylan confirmed.
Nate continued flipping through the notepad. ‘Very nice woman. She was exceedingly friendly – and helpful.’
‘I bet she was,’ Summer muttered.
‘Ah, yes.’ Finding the page that he had been searching for, Nate studied it for a minute. Then he raised his head with a grave expression, and his tone grew formal. ‘I’m afraid that it can’t be put off any longer. Regardless of the consequences, the time has come to get down to business.’
A crease appeared in Summer’s brow. ‘All right.’
‘I suggest that you take a seat,’ he directed her stiffly.
The crease deepened, but Summer didn’t argue. She walked to the chair in front of the fan and began to carry it back toward the table.
Hope started to rise. ‘If this is going to take a while, I should do something about the ticketholders who are waiting in line—’
Nate lifted his hand, indicating for her to stop. ‘There’s no need. I’ve already taken care of them.’
‘You have?’ she asked in surprise.
‘Yes. I cleared the line and sent everybody away as soon as I arrived. A uniformed officer has been stationed at the entrance to advise passers-by that the booth is closed for the remainder of the day.’
‘What!’ the sisters exclaimed in unison. Summer was so startled that she dropped the chair.
Standing up, Nate motioned for Hope to return to her seat.
With a frown, Hope slowly sat back down. That explained why the previously bustling area outside the front curtains had gone quiet earlier. But was it really necessary to shut the booth with a policeman standing guard?
‘There is no question’ – Nate went to pick up Summer’s chair – ‘that this is an unpleasant and uncomfortable situation for all involved, especially considering …’ He paused and gave Summer an awkward glance. ‘In any event, I have a duty, and the law must be obeyed.’
There was something so rigidly official in Nate’s manner that it was beginning to make Hope feel rather ill at ease, as though she and Summer should contact an attorney before remaining in the booth and permitting the conversation with the detective to go any further. Almost involuntarily, she looked at Dylan.
He leaned toward her, faintly amused. ‘I believe that it’s you – and not me – who needs their bacon saved.’
At first blush, Hope wasn’t sure how to interpret the remark, but a moment later, Dylan was proven correct.
Setting Summer’s chair upright and offering it to her, Nate said, ‘I regret to inform you that you and Hope have been accused of murder.’
TWELVE
‘Rot,’ Summer said. ‘Utter rot.’
There was a brief hesitation, then Nate once more offered her the empty chair. Summer took a pronounced step away from it and from him.
‘Rot,’ she said again.
After another hesitation, Nate returned to his own chair next to Dylan.
Summer remained standing and put her hands angrily on her hips. ‘I demand to know who had the gall to accuse—’
‘Don’t,’ Hope stopped her. ‘Don’t say another word on the matter. Not before we consult with an attorney – or, at a minimum, find out precisely what the charges are.’
‘Yes. Absolutely. Excellent point,’ Summer concurred. Then she turned back to Nate. ‘Are you going to arrest us? Charge us? Tell us right now. Is this considered an interrogation? Don’t you need to read us our rights?’
Nate looked taken aback. ‘Good god, I’m not going to arrest you.’
Summer squinted at him. ‘You aren’t?’
‘No. Of course not. On what grounds would I arrest you, or charge you, or even bring you in for formal questioning?’
Although she had no immediate answer, Summer’s squint remained, indicating that she wasn’t fully convinced.
Hope gave an internal sigh of relief at the detective’s response. Then fury bubbled out. ‘If you’re not going to arrest us or charge us with a crime, then don’t close our booth without our consent and post a policeman as a guard! Don’t make menacing statements about your supposed duty and obeying the law! Don’t try to intimidate us with your bureaucratic tone and demeanor! And don’t start throwing around accusations of murder!’
Summer nodded vigorously in accord.
‘And you can forget about getting any free drinks here, or at the boutique, or anywhere else ever,’ Hope continued heatedly. ‘The only complimentary cocktail that you’ll be receiving from us at the Green Goat this evening will be the one that we throw in your face.’
‘He wouldn’t dare show up there after this,’ Summer growled.
Hope’s eyes moved from Nate’s flabbergasted expression to Dylan’s, which was decidedly less solemn.
‘What are you smiling at?’ she snapped.
‘You,’ Dylan said. ‘The family resemblance is remarkable. You sound just like Olivia did this morning when she was berating the carousel people. Brimstone and daggers. The purr of a kitten one second, followed by the roar of a lion the next.’
Under other circumstances, Hope would have issued a stinging retort. But a favorable comparison to her grandmother was considered high praise in the Bailey family.
‘Thank you,’ Hope said coolly. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
‘Trust me, it is one.’ Dylan’s smile grew. ‘I was fully prepared to assume the role of the gallant hero and ride to the rescue on my snow-white steed by providing you with an irrefutable alibi for the time of Davis’s death, but it’s evident that you don’t need a champion and you’re capable of saving your own bacon.’
‘I certainly am,’ Hope replied. ‘Summer and I don’t allow ourselves to be bullied any more than our grandmother does. And you can stop pretending that you were about to engage in some wonderfully valiant act. By providing me with an alibi, you also happen to be conveniently providing yourself with one.’
From the way Dylan chuckled, it was clear that the idea had already occurred to him. ‘That may be the case, but – unlike you – I don’t need an alibi. I had no connection whatsoever with Davis Scott. I never met the man while he was alive. And the first time I ever saw him was with you when we discovered his body on the carousel.’
‘We only have your word for that,’ Hope countered.
‘And even if your statement is accurate,’ Summer chimed in, ‘just because you hadn’t previously seen or met Davis doesn’t automatically guarantee that you weren’t involved in his death. There are other potential scenarios. For instance, you could have paid someone to kill him.’
Dylan chuckled harder. ‘I hired a contract killer? You really have a fantastical imagination. I suppose, in some bizarre way, I should be flattered. First, you blame your attic, then you blame a pug, and now you’re blaming me.’
‘I’m not blaming you,’ Summer returned peevishly. ‘I’m just offering it as a hypothetical. We need to consider all the possibilities, no matter how seemingly remote—’
‘Then we should consider you, too,’ Dylan interjected. ‘Because in contrast to your sister, you don’t have an alibi.’
‘Yes, I do! You saw me arrive at the carousel.’
‘Exactly. You arrived after Hope and Megan and I had already found Davis’s body and I had reported it to the police.’
‘Well, technically that’s correct,’ Summer admitted. ‘But from a timing standpoint, it isn’t feasible for me to have played a part in the death. I would have had to kill Davis, slip silently away without anyone noticing me, and then return moments later, perfectly calm and unruffled, pretending to be as stunned as everybody else by the discovery. I’m not that good of an actress!’
Dylan merely shrugged.
‘And furthermore,’ Summer went on, ‘it isn’t remotely logical. Why would I want to murder Davis Scott?’
‘You gave us a long list of reasons on that subject yesterday,’ Dylan reminded her. He enumerated: ‘Davis was a slippery fish; he wasn’t selling your marital home quickly enough; you wanted a new realtor so that your divorce could be finalized; Davis was pestering your family about putting the brownstone on the market; and – my personal favorite – your attic didn’t like him.’
Appearing rather chagrined at the recitation, Summer shot back defensively, ‘There are plenty of other people who thought that Davis was a slippery fish. Amelia and Stanley Palmer, for example. They’ve had terrible problems with the sale of their house. Stanley is convinced that legitimate offers have been held back in order to push them into accepting a lowball proposal. It’s caused Amelia so much stress that she’s been having the most horrible headaches. Gram said—’
Hope shook her head to stop her sister. ‘But we don’t know for sure that Davis was the Palmers’ real estate agent.’
‘Of course he was,’ Summer rejoined. ‘It’s obvious. Amelia was the one who first called him a slippery fish. What more proof do you need?’
