Third Time Lucky: Volume 1 (The Coxwells) Read online

Dead?

  I opened my mouth and shut it again, not knowing what to say. I couldn’t imagine Lucia dead. She was vital, I had to give her that, and possessed of the strength of ten immortals.

  I tried again and this time managed to croak out something. “Dead tired?”

  “Murdered.”

  Now there is one of those words you don’t much expect to hear in the normal course of conversation—unless, of course, your name is Hercule Poirot or Jessica Fletcher.

  Mine isn’t.

  For a minute, I knew I’d heard him wrong. This was my kitchen, after all, and not usually a hotbed of sordid tales. “Murdered? Are you sure?”

  “No doubt about it.” He looked very grim. “I found her in the greenhouse.”

  I forgot my shyness and sat down opposite him. “But Nick, murdered? Maybe it was an accident. She could have fallen. Or had a heart attack.”

  He looked skeptical. “And jabbed a knife into her throat in the midst of it?”

  I had to admit that seemed unlikely.

  “She’d been stabbed with a little stiletto that I bought for her when I was in Venice.” Nick rubbed his face with his hands, as though he could scrub the memory of the sight away. “I thought she’d enjoy using it as a letter opener. It’s a nasty but ornate little thing.”

  It sounded like something Lucia would like, but that still didn’t give me a clue what to say.

  “Murder’s not something you get wrong, Phil. There was blood everywhere and...” His throat worked and I reached across the table to touch his hand. He closed his fingers over mine, hard, and looked away.

  I had to ask.

  Because this brought the past squarely into the present, and easily explained why he had come to me.

  “Did you do it?”

  “No!” The look he gave me could have cut glass. “Why would I kill her?”

  I tried to remain objective. “You two did have that fight.”

  “Right, so she might have cheerfully killed me, not the other way around.” Nick shook his head. “She was the one who was so angry.”

  Because he had lied to her. The past hovered a little more insistently, but didn’t get any air time all the same.

  “So, why did she invite you back now? Why would she bother?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe because I sent her that gift and re-established contact between us.” He flicked me a glance that spoke volumes. “I didn’t ask a lot of questions.”

  But he came.

  He cleared his throat when I didn’t say anything. His voice dropped lower as though he was confessing a secret. “I missed her.”

  If anyone could miss Lucia, it would be him. Nick had always been a bit unconventional in his tastes—and he had always had that rapport with the Dragon Lady.

  She did have a soft spot or two. Even I’d seen it once, and Lucia and I were far from pals.

  “So, who did it? Who would have wanted to kill her?”

  “Who wouldn’t have wanted to kill her?” he muttered. “Probably most of Rosemount would have been glad to do the honors.”

  “Oh, come on. Lucia was bit—” I had to search for a diplomatic choice “—opinionated, but...”

  “More than a bit opinionated, Phil. They didn’t call her the Dragon Lady for nothing.”

  I hadn’t thought that he knew about that moniker. He pushed to his feet and paced the length of the room and back. I was weak enough to enjoy the view.

  “I think she pissed off everyone in a fifty mile radius at one time or another.” He shook his head and that smile touched his lips again, his next words so quiet that I barely heard them. “She probably kept a list in her phone book, just to make sure she didn’t miss anyone.”

  I didn’t dare laugh. It was probably true.

  “But she was killed with a gift from you, right before your expected return.” I was thinking out loud. “It can’t have been just anybody. That’s too many coincidences. And who would have known you were coming?”

  Nick looked up, his expression wary. “She would have told one person, for sure.”

  I knew we were thinking exactly the same thing. His younger brother Sean might as well have pulled up a chair and joined the conversation.

  “Are you going to let him do it?”

  “Not this time.” Nick shook his head with finality. He sat backwards on his chair again, his expression intent. “But I don’t know what to do to make this come right.”

  “Which was why you came here.”

  “Old instincts die hard.” He grimaced, then met my gaze steadily again. “Being in Rosemount meant I should talk to you.”

  I had a lump in my throat the size of Texas. “For legal advice.”

  “Maybe not just that.” He reached out and took my hand this time, running his thumb across the back of my hand and putting an army of tingles on the march. “When did you become a girl, Phil?”

  The mercury in the kitchen inched up a little higher.

  I watched his fingertip on the back of my hand. It was true that I used to wear a lot of sweatshirts and baggy clothes, trying to hide mass behind fabric. I guess it wasn’t very feminine.

  “Fifteen years is a long time.”

  “Yes, it is.” He sat back abruptly, his eyes narrowed, and my abandoned hand felt suddenly cold. He pushed both hands through his hair and the romantic interlude was clearly over.

  I knew I’d spend hours thinking of all the brilliant things I could have said, if only I’d thought of them in time. Maybe that had sounded like an accusation to him.

  In a way, I guess it was.

  “I must have left fingerprints all over the place,” Nick muttered, his thoughts clearly moving on. “It’s not as though they’re not on file. Mrs. Donnelly probably saw me go in and out.”

  “That old busybody.”

  He was on his feet before I even saw him move, and paced the length of the kitchen like a caged tiger. “They’re probably looking for me now.”

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “How could I? You know what they would think.”

  Yup, I knew what they would think. What’s bred in the bone comes out in the flesh. Another Sullivan good for only locking up and throwing away the key. Here’s our boy again, back to his old tricks. This time, let’s make it stick.

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  He shrugged into his jacket. “I’m going to make sure that justice is done.”

  “The trick is that you’ll have to stay out of jail to do it.”

  He almost smiled. “Got it in one. You were never one to mince words.” His gaze swept over me. “Same old Phil, but in shiny new packaging.” I blushed, though I wondered what I looked like to him.

  He looked good enough to eat to me. Those little lines around his eyes deepened when he smiled and I could see now that there was a little bit of silver at his temples. I remembered that I hadn’t had dessert tonight.

  But then, I wasn’t that kind of woman.

  I wondered whether maybe I should be.

  We stared at each other as the steam from the kettle filled the kitchen. I was telling myself not to offer to help, he was probably telling himself to leave, but something had stirred to life between us, something that made us a little less anxious to part ways this time.

  The kettle boiled and I got up to make the tea. He paced the length of the kitchen again, clearly impatient to do something. I was encouraged that he didn’t choose the walking-out-the-door option.

  “I heard the sirens before I left. Someone must have called the cops when I went into the house.”

  “Mrs. Donnelly being helpful again.”

  He grimaced. “It must be all over the news by now. Phil, I shouldn’t have come here. You shouldn’t be involved, not again.”

  His concern awakened a nice warm glow. I flicked on the radio, because it was close at hand and I wasn’t ready for him to walk out of my life again. I fiddled with the dial and honed in on a station just in time to catch a musical ditty.
br />   “All the news, all the time,” sang the chorus.

  Nick stopped to listen, leaning against the counter right beside me. Even when he wasn’t moving, he seemed to vibrate with an inner urgency.

  Like a volcano on the verge of eruption. I stared at his hands and wondered whether it was fatal to be around this particular fault line. My mouth went dry.

  What if the wheel of fortune had finally rolled around for me? It was a heady possibility and it wouldn’t have taken anything less monumental to make the company move into the black.

  I’ve always believed in luck and always done my best to lure some my way. I’ve been avoiding ladders and skipping number thirteen, petting all black cats and tossing salt over my shoulder for as long as I can remember. A long time ago, Fat Philippa figured she needed all the help she could get.

  And now I had a sense that things were going to pay off big. It was either intuition or indigestion. What if my ship had come in? There might very well be a pair of ruby slippers lurking in my closet, just waiting for me to put them on and dance like Ginger Rogers.

  What if the stars were lined up so perfectly that any fool with a glass of champagne in their belly could make a wish and that wish might come true?

  Okay, so I wished. I’d wished this particular wish a couple of times before, twice to be accurate. You know what they say, third time lucky. Besides, it can’t hurt to keep your options covered, can it?

  A toothpaste commercial was followed by news of two airliners nearly colliding somewhere over the Midwest and testimonial of a variety of aviation experts.

  We stood and waited, and now I know how it feels to have bated breath. I was certain each story would be about the horrific murder of a darling older eccentric in sleepy Rosemount.

  But the newscaster rolled through a succession of stories that became progressively less violent and sensational. The news finished with the rise to glory of a high school girl’s volleyball team, obviously the warm and fuzzy human interest story. The music rolled, followed by a few commercials and the ditty.

  Then, the newscaster started with the same lead story as he had the previous half hour.

  “They haven’t found her yet!” Nick breathed. “How can that be?”

  “Maybe it’s too soon. When were you there?”

  “Around six, right after my flight got in.” He shook his head and headed for the door. “I’ve got to go back there.”

  “Are you nuts? You just said you weren’t going to let Sean do this to you.”

  “Well, I can’t just let her rot there.”

  “So, you’ll walk in and incriminate yourself. Brilliant move.”

  His words came through gritted teeth. “I can’t abandon her there. It’s not right.”

  The words were out before I could stop them, some part of me reaching out to do a little bit more than just wish. He looked so upset and it seemed such a small thing to do. “Then, I’ll “find” her, not you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll discover the body.” He looked at me as though I had gone insane. I was half certain that I had, but smiled valiantly. “Favor for a friend. That’s all.”

  “That’s nuts.” Nick propped his hands on his hips, skepticism personified. “What possible reason could you have for being in Lucia’s greenhouse at one o’clock in the morning?”

  “None. But I could have an excuse at, say, eight in the morning.”

  “How?”

  “She could have hired me.”

  “Lucia has the tightest purse strings of anyone alive.” He frowned at his own use of present tense but kept using it anyhow. “She’d never pay anyone to design her garden.”

  “Older people get whimsical. And who’s to deny that she called me?” I was on a roll, slipping on my sales persona without even realizing it myself. “It could just be a consultation. No one will know but me and Lucia, and she’s not going to tell.”

  He shook his head and I couldn’t begin to guess his thoughts, though the heat in his eyes was enough to fuel Greater Boston for the month of January. “What makes you jump in to help, Phil?”

  I shrugged, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. I’d die before I admitted I did this more for him than anyone else. “It’s just the way I am.”

  “I know. But it’s not the way I am to let other people solve things for me. You’re not going there and that’s that.”

  Ah, male pride. You’ve got to love it. I turned back to the kettle. “Then go yourself. I hear the food’s better at the county jail these days.”

  I felt him glare at me. “Phil, I appreciate your offer, but I don’t think your going there is a good idea.”

  “While your going there is a great one?”

  He started to pace again, then pivoted as inspiration struck. “I could make an anonymous call.”

  “You could, but they’ll track the number.”

  “Then, there’s no other way.” He headed for the door.

  “What if they have found Lucia and are waiting for you to return to the scene of the crime?” I asked sweetly when he was halfway across the threshold. “Isn’t that supposed to be the great weakness of murderers? They can’t leave well enough alone? You could walk right into your pal O’Reilly’s arms. I’m sure he’d love it.”

  Nick spun to face me. “Tell me O’Reilly isn’t still there.” I shrugged apologetically and he swore. “And if you walk in?”

  “I’ve got a cover story. Innocent bystander. It’s perfect, Nick, so you might as well admit it.”

  “I don’t want you involved.”

  Oh, nothing like a little male protectiveness to make a woman get all mushy inside. I did my best to hide my response. “Sadly, you haven’t got any other options.”

  We stared at each other for a long moment and I could virtually see him going through the alternatives, assessing and discarding each one in turn.

  He shut the door firmly, then shook his head. “All right, Phil. You’re on.” He stuck out his hand to shake on it. His thumb slid over my hand in a slow caress that could have stopped my heart cold. “Looks like I owe you again.”

  It wasn’t quite the thanks I had once hoped for, but it was pretty good stuff.

  “We do this on my terms, though.” His expression set stubbornly. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Oh, that’s a great idea. And I used to think you were a smart guy.” I rolled my eyes. Maybe I wasn’t playing too gently with him, but he couldn’t have expected sweetness and light after all this time. “How is being seen lurking around the house going to help you here?”

  “I won’t be seen.”

  “Because you’ll will everyone to be blind? Have you learned voodoo while you were gone?”

  “Phil...”

  “Please, Nick. We’re talking about X-Ray Vision Donnelly here. I’m sure she keeps a ledger of all doings at Lucia’s place.” I flung out my hands. “And how are you going to get there? Do you really think renting a car with a credit card with your name on it in order to drive to Rosemount is a brilliant idea? If you take the bus, do you think no one will see you?”

  “I could walk there.”

  “Mmm. Start now and maybe the commuters won’t all notice you trudging along the shoulder.”

  “So maybe I’m not thinking too clearly.” His shoulders sagged as he rubbed his brow, and I touched his arm gently.

  “You haven’t had a great day, have you?”

  His hand closed over mine and we stood there together in silence. Finally he gave my hand a little squeeze of thanks, then deliberately put some distance between us.

  “And you always said you didn’t have a devious mind.” He leaned against the counter, arms folded across his chest. “Okay, Phil, tell me your plan.”

  “I’ll drive. You can tag along if you want, but you’ll stay in the Beast.”

  “The Beast? Sounds Biblical.”

  “It’s our beloved company truck. Don’t you name your cars?”

  “Never had one.” While I blinke
d at that, he turned away. He picked up one of the business cards from the stack I keep on the counter, always at the ready.

  His obvious approval pleased me a lot more than I should have let it. “Your own partnership? Or are there more Coxwells in the garden than I knew about?”

  “Just me in the garden and yes, it’s a partnership. Elaine Pope and I. She does more interior stuff. I’m the plant woman.”

  “How’s it going?”

  My chest puffed with pride and I couldn’t have stopped my smile to save my life. “We signed a deal today that will make us profitable for the first time.”

  He must have heard the satisfaction that was practically oozing out my pores because he smiled too. “Oh, I remember that day. There’s nothing like moving into the black.”

  I tried to sound casual, but probably failed. “You have your own business too?”

  As if I didn’t know every damn detail.

  Nick shrugged and his smile faded to nothing. “I had an adventure travel business. I just sold it off to the competition.”

  That surprised me, but he didn’t give me a chance to ask anything more. Interrogation interruptus, that was Nick all over.

  He waved my card at me. “Your family must be proud.”

  I rolled my eyes. “As if. Do you remember my family?”

  And he laughed. Nick has a great laugh, though he doesn’t let it lose very often. It seems to roll up right from his toes and flow over everything in its path. “Some things never change, do they Phil?”

  I hoped that he wasn’t just talking about my family. “No, they sure don’t.”

  Our gazes caught again and I caught my breath at the look in his eyes. His smile faded and he stepped closer, lifting one finger to touch my cheek. He was looking at me again, really looking, and I felt like the eighth marvel of the world.

  “Maybe that’s a good thing,” he whispered in that whiskey voice. He hesitated only a moment, as though giving me time to duck away, then leaned down and kissed me.

  You know, some things are eroded by yearning—once delivered, they fall far short of the accumulated height of expectation, whereas on their own, without that yearning, they might have made a decent showing. I had wondered how Nick would kiss for about twenty-five years, off and on, and his kiss might very easily have been a disappointment.