Furry Godmother’s business tip: Without proper marketing, zealous admiration is just stalking.
I headed to my parents’ house on the way home. I needed to review ideas for the Jazzy Chicks’ pianos with Mom and brag to Dad about the connection I’d made between Miguel and the other jewelry heist locations. He would know what to do with the information.
I slowed at the end of their block. I’d completely forgotten that tonight was Mom’s benefit dinner. Twinkle lights lined the wrought iron fence around their property. Lanterns hung from the reaching limbs of the ancient oak. Spotlights illuminated the master craftsmanship of their home’s nineteenth-century architect. Neighbors were walking the path to the front door wearing Armani and thousand-watt smiles.
As much as I wanted to find exasperation with the fact Mom was on her second dinner party this week while I was on my second death threat, I couldn’t. A flutter of nostalgia wiggled in me. In high school, Scarlet and I would steal abandoned champagne flutes at these events and pour them into sports bottles until we’d accumulated enough to have a party of our own. We’d climb to the widow’s walk and talk about boys and the future. Mostly boys.
I rolled closer, feeling the urge to peek inside.
A man in an emerald vest smiled and waved from his position behind a portable stand at the drive’s end. He jogged into the street and waved through my closed passenger window.
I powered the barrier down and weighed the merits of jumping a side road home to watch Netflix with Buttercup.
“Are you attending the Crocker dinner?”
I gave the twinkling house a long look. Nostalgia or microwave popcorn and seven seasons of Gilmore Girls? “Yeah. I think so.”
“Great! May I see your invitation? I’ll get you a ticket and take your car.”
“I don’t have my invitation.” I scanned the street, rehashing my options. This was my last chance to drive away. Acceptance pulled my shoulders away from my ears. I was already at the party. I might as well say hello. I shifted into park and freed the driver’s license from my wallet. “I’m on the list. Probably at the top.”
He looked at the identification and passed it back. “Of course, Miss Crocker.”
He rounded my hood while I prepared mentally for whatever awaited me. My mind had a habit of jumping to the worst possible conclusions and absolute ugliest scenarios. Everyone will stare and whisper. They had to wonder by now how I was involved with a murder and a break-in. I’d been listed on more police reports this week than I’d thought was humanly possible.
I’d use the back door and ease into the party. It’d been a long time since I’d attended one of Mom’s dinners. Party situations were tough enough when I lived here. Now that I was grown and involved in a murder, the experience would probably be worse.
Unless I was wrong and everyone would be thrilled to see me. After all, meeting a single thirty-year-old woman in high society was like finding a unicorn. I’d be the belle of the ball. Mothers would drag their newly divorced or obviously gay sons to my feet, listing their grand attributes and smoothing their hair for them.
Soft music drifted from the kitchen on the clang of glass and dishes. I opened the door and slid into the steamy room.
“Oh!” A woman in a gray pantsuit jumped to attention. “Guests enter through the front. This is the service door.”
I dodged her attempt to capture me before I could move farther into the house. “I’m Lacy Crocker.”
She gave me another look. “Lacy?”
“Yep.” I lifted my palms hip-high.
She raised her arms, like security gates, and corralled me toward the rear staircase. “You need to change. Go this way so your mother doesn’t see you, and make a proper entrance via the grand staircase in the foyer.” She gave the French pronunciation: foy-ay.
I did a slow blink and took the first step.
Maybe coming inside was stupid. I’d already eaten. I couldn’t talk to Mom about the pianos in the middle of a party, and upon second thought, Dad might not be as enthusiastic as I was about the jewelry heist link I’d found. He seemed to side with Jack on the topic of me leaving this alone.
“Go on,” the lady shooed.
The narrow passage was lined in wainscoting and had made the perfect escape route for a rebellious teenage girl. I opened the door to my old bedroom. Everything was exactly as I’d left it ten years before. Every blue ribbon, book, and stitch of clothing was precisely where I’d left it, though someone had obviously kept up the dusting.
When I turned sixteen, Mom hired an interior designer, and I’d spent months with her designing and outfitting my room with the perfect color scheme and accessories for my life. We’d trimmed pale-blue walls in white woodwork, and I’d chosen accents in various shades of silver or gray. Glass jewels dripped from the chandelier and lampshades. I used to imagine they were diamonds and I was the queen of a kingdom. The down comforter on my bed was as puffy and inviting as any cloud in heaven. My exhausted body begged to sink into it and sleep forever.
Across the room, an overflowing pair of bookshelves spilled their treasures onto the floor and every flat surface a book could call home. A pile of paperback copies of Wuthering Heights anchored my closet. I still bought a new copy whenever I saw one with a cover I didn’t already own.
Someone rapped on the wall inside my open door. “Lacy?”
I turned to greet the voice I heard in my sleep most nights. “Hi, Mom.”
“What are you doing here?” Her simple black dress was perfection with Grandmother’s striking white pearls. Her hair was pulled into an elegant chignon. Her shoes and nails were understated but noticeable. She was one hundred percent casual elegance. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”
“No.”
She wrinkled her nose and stepped back. “Are you ill? Are you contagious?” She turned in a helpless circle, proving I got my conclusion-jumping skills honestly. “I have fifty guests who will blame my cooking if they leave here sick.”
“You have a caterer.”
“And?”
I shook my head. “Never mind. I’m not sick or hurt. I just came to talk to you about the Chicks, but then I saw the party and thought you’d like me to stay.”
She lifted her eyebrows into her bangs. “You’re staying?”
“If my invitation’s still good. I left it at home. I had to dodge security.”
Her smile came and went in a heartbeat. “You need to change.”
“Of course.” When I’d left home this morning, I’d planned to spend the day sorting the Furry Godmother stockroom. My white tennis shoes and T-shirt weren’t exactly party ready for this crowd.
“I have a rack of LBDs in my room. That’s pop culture speak for little black dresses.”
“Thanks, I know.” I stifled an eye roll. “I’ll take a look.”
She wrung her hands together. “You can stay as long as you like, you know. If you want.” She motioned to the bed. “I haven’t touched a thing in here since you left. It’s still your room. Always.”
“Thanks.”
“Jack thinks you’d be safer here than at your place.”
I once again fought an eye roll. “I’m fine.”
“Don’t do that,” she snapped. “Don’t say you’re fine as if I’m worrying about nonsense.” Lines raced over her forehead and gathered between her brows. “You’re my daughter. My only daughter and my whole world.” She cleared her throat. “I won’t have you dead.” Her eyes were glossy, but her attitude was as firm as ever. “That’s an order.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now change. I’ll make you a plate and find a way to keep the desperate men at bay.”
“Thanks.”
She nodded and turned away. “I can make no promises if I see a solid catch.”
“Deal.” I followed her into the hallway. “That was funny, Mom. When did you get to be funny?”
“Where do you think you get your sense of humor?” Her eyes twinkled. “Certainly not your father. I’m the personality on this cruise.”
“If this week has been a cruise, it was the Titanic.”
She turned for a trip down the grand staircase. “You see? We’re comedy gold.”
“I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
She adjusted her hair and dress. “Maybe this is my lucky night and your father will come in from the office where he’s monitoring a patient.” She used finger quotes around the last three words. “He doesn’t think I know he drinks brandy in there and watches sports.”
“Men, right?”
She took the first step and looked at me over one shoulder. “Like you would know. Zing!”
I turned the spotless glass knob on her bedroom door and inhaled thick scents of makeup and Chanel No. 5. The master bedroom was layered with cast-off dresses. The plush carpet was speckled with shoes that didn’t make tonight’s cut. I opened her closet and walked in. Motion sensor lights lit my path. The rack of black dresses was in the back, near her dressing table, where a collage of photographs had nearly overtaken the mirror. All shots of me, from pageants to proms, graduation to college.
I thumbed through the rack and chose the dress I thought she would’ve picked for me. It was an elegant, knee-length number covered in a layer of Chantilly lace that formed a modest scoop neckline. Little satin buttons hid the zipper in the back, and a wide, matching ribbon formed a belt around my center. The dress was a little loose in the hips, though not as much as I would have liked. I smoothed my hair into a low ponytail and borrowed some earrings. Simple. Classic. Not bad for a girl who spent the day sorting stock. One pair of black slingbacks later and I was on the grand staircase, pretending I’d been there all along.
Mom met me at the bottom with a warm smile and a plate of hors d’oeuvres. “I’m so glad Jack came. He always draws a crowd.”
I accepted the plate from her.
He was easy to spot. Handsome, brooding, and several inches taller than the throng of women surrounding him. My heart did a dumb flutter. “He’s stalking me.”
“That would be difficult, since he arrived first. And from the looks of your previous outfit, you made a last-minute decision to come here, probably while driving by.”
What was she? A psychic?
“I’ve arranged the cover story, as promised, to avoid any unwanted advances from male suitors tonight.” A sly smile reached her eyes. “I’m spreading the word that you’re dating.”
“Oh?” I stole another look at Jack in his timeless black jacket and slacks.
This time he lifted his glass in response.
“Isn’t that clever?” Mom said.
I didn’t hate the idea, but he had been a little short with me this morning. He probably needed to apologize.
Mom’s smile grew. “Here’s your boyfriend now.”
I turned to see who she was referring to. Jack hadn’t taken a step away from his position across the room.
Chase materialized from a crowd of similarly dressed men in khaki pants, white dress shirts, and brown shoes.
Mom stage winked. “You two make such a lovely couple.”
He squeezed her to his side. “What can I say? I’m a lucky fellow.”
“You two have fun.” She patted his cheek and slipped away.
My “boyfriend” wiggled his eyebrows.
I shook my head slowly. “All these men and Mom chose you as my love interest?”
He furrowed his brows. “I’m not sure how to take that.”
I sampled a cheese chunk from my plate. “It’s not you. It’s her. I assumed she’d pick an overachieving, work-obsessed show-off with a high personal station and coffers of money.”
“Maybe she picked the guy she thought you’d have the most fun with.”
“I don’t know. That doesn’t sound like her.”
Mom worked the room, looking for me every few minutes and smiling as if we shared the most delicious secret. I’d never been in on something with her. It was kind of fun.
Chase nudged me with an elbow and took my plate. He set it aside and wrapped my hand around his elbow. “Shall we?”
We made a slow but appropriately cordial circuit through the room, greeting guests and listening to fuddy-duddy rants on local politics. I found my people quickly. They were buzzing with enthusiasm for the upcoming Animal Elegance gala. They knew the keynote speaker and the menu. They recognized me right away and drew me in with questions on my time in Virginia, my fashion degree, and finding the right pet ensemble for any occasion.
Mrs. Neidermeyer arrived on the arm of a man half her age. She dismissed him with a kiss and drifted into our circle with dramatic flair. “Ladies.” She looked me over, taking care to examine Chase as well. She took a seat on the Queen Anne chair across from me and crossed her legs to reveal the telltale red soles of her Christian Louboutins. “Has Lacy told you all about the fabulous ensembles she’s creating for my girls?”
The little crowd lit up. Their eyes went wide at the possible scandal.
Nerves pricked the back of my neck. “I’ve spoken with Mrs. Feller. She’s okay with the change, and she was really pleased with the work I did for her babies.”
The women exchanged mildly disappointed smiles.
Mrs. Neidermeyer fluffed the layers of her chiffon gown around her calves. Her gaze fell to Chase’s hand on mine. “When did this begin?”
The group fell silent. People on the fringe seemed to lean in closer.
“It’s very recent,” I stammered.
“For you,” he said smoothly. “For me, this has been a lifetime in the making.”
One woman covered her heart with both hands. A pair of eavesdropping college girls frowned and left the vicinity. The other women in our circle traded looks.
I nudged Chase. “Well, we should see if my mom needs anything.”
“Anything you want,” he agreed.
I led him away from the circle. “I can feel eyes burning holes in our backs,” I whispered as we made our way through the crowded room.
Chase lifted my hand to his lips and murmured quietly. “Did we greet everyone?”
“I think so.” The only person we’d missed was Jack, and I hadn’t missed him as much as outright avoided him.
“Then our work here is done.”
Voodoo darted through the room and up the steps on silent feet. She stopped several feet up and peered through a set of wide cherry balusters.
Chase stared. “Is that your cat?”
“Yeah.”
“Voodoo, right?”
“Yep.”
He rubbed his forehead. “I think I remember her from high school. Is that possible? She’s got to be the oldest cat in the world.”
I laughed.
“I’m serious,” he said. “Your dad’s either a really good vet or a magician.”
“A little of both, I think.” I tugged his hand. “Thanks for being my boyfriend for a night.”
“The night’s not over. How are you feeling?”
“Let’s go somewhere quiet, eat sugar, and reward ourselves for not leaving sooner.”
“I like how you think, Hawthorne.”
He scooted into my personal space and dropped his lips to my ear. “Did you find any more pieces to that puzzle we talked about last night?”
“Actually, yes, thanks to you. Do you want to hear?”
“Absolutely.” He looked over his shoulders. “Have you told Scarlet yet?”
“Yes, this morning.”
He groaned. “I like to get things over on her, but she’s got the red line to this town, I swear. The only person who manages to hear things before her is my brother, but being everyone’s favorite attorney helps in that area. I don’t know how she gets the scoop on anything while she’s home with three kids.” He hooked his arm with mine and swiped a plate of petit fours and lemon tassies off the buffet.
“She’s got that face. It’s all those freckles. People want to tell her things.”
He added one more tassie to his pile. “It’s all about the freckles.”
I sniped an unopened bottle of champagne from an ice bucket. “Ever seen my widow’s walk?”
He tapped his plate of sweets to my bottle. “Not personally, but I’m sure it’s fantastic.”
I led him to the stairs. “Oh, it’s fabulous.”
We climbed onto the railed rooftop platform and settled onto Mom’s designer chaises. The space was narrow but cozy and lined with plants and solar lights. Warm winds tussled our hair. I set the bottle on a little stand and pulled my feet onto the cushion beside me.
“So,” he prompted, “tell me about your investigation.”
“Well, I’ve obsessively rehashed every detail of my awful week and come to one conclusion.”
He tossed a pink petit four into his mouth. “What?”
“After looking at each situation—the break-in, the threats, the jewel heists—from every angle, I’ve found two consistent common denominators. Sadly, one of them is dead and the other is me.”
“Maybe you should stay with your parents until it blows over. This place is Fort Knox.” He pushed another petit four into his mouth.
I pulled a pillow onto my lap, barring against the wind. “Not really. It’s all smoke and mirrors. I walked right through the back door earlier.”
“Care if I open the champagne?” Chase stretched one long arm to reach it without getting up. “I think I have a sugar flower petal stuck in my throat.”
“You aren’t supposed to swallow mini desserts like aspirin.” I kicked off my shoes and wiggled my toes. “Why didn’t we hang out more when we were kids?”
He twisted the muselet off the cork and wedged his thumbs underneath. “I was your best friend’s boyfriend’s little brother. Not a big selling point in high school romance.” He pointed the bottle toward the streetlight, the trees, the moon. “What should I shoot for?”
“Not my car.” I relaxed into the chaise. “I’ve always loved it up here. I feel like I can see forever, like we’re in a big snow globe where it’s always sunny, or starry, I guess.” Thousands of historic oaks and other Garden District trees muffled the city sounds, making the world beyond our home seem surreal. “Living here is a little like living in a very green storybook.”
“Never thought about it.” The cork burst free, flying into the night and swan diving through the amber glow of a gas street lamp below. Chase swung the erupting bottle away. “Glasses?”
“Oh. No. Oops. Do you want me to go get some?”
He slid onto the floor by my feet. “Nah.” He sipped from the top and passed it to me. “I shouldn’t drink tonight. I’m having breakfast with the folks and a seven AM tee time with Dad.”
I sipped from the bottle and set it aside. “How’s that going?”
He leaned his head against my chaise. “They forgave me for having a career in volleyball and offered me a position at Dad’s law firm.”
“Ah.” I handed him a lemon tassie from the comfort tray.
He chewed and laughed. “If I get unlimited dessert for having disappointed parents, what do you get for living in fear of a psychopath?”
“So far? A headache.” I admired the sky full of stars, lightyears away from the mess in Storybook Land.
He tipped his head back and looked into my eyes. Curiosity played on his handsome face.
“What?” I hoped the light was too dim to see my blush.
He shifted, swiveling onto his knees and rising over me without needing to stand. “Have you given any more thought to our deal?”
“Trading a kiss for a false legal document?” I held his gaze, torn by desperation to flee, memories of a too-recent heartbreak, and a certain detective I couldn’t quite shake from my mind.
“The caveat to our deal was that you have to want the kiss.” His voice was a soothing purr as he inched closer. Soft scents of cologne, sugar, and champagne enticed me to curl my fingers into the fabric of his shirt and seal the deal. “Do you want me to kiss you, Lacy?”
Our breaths mingled in the unreasonably romantic moment. I lowered my eyelids to think.
“Lacy.” His warm lips brushed mine as he spoke.
My eyes popped open. “I’m not ready.”
“Fair enough.” He returned to his spot on the floor with a look of immense satisfaction. “Another time, then.”
I flopped against the backrest of my chaise and exhaled pure adrenaline. “Wow.”
He popped another sweet into his mouth. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”
Jeez.
When the sweets were gone and the wind had worn away my resolve to hide, Chase walked me to the valet and kissed my cheek. “Goodnight, Lacy Crocker. I fancied being your gentleman tonight.”
I curtsied. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Mr. Hawthorne.” Why couldn’t actual dating be as pleasant?
“Keep me posted on that deal we’re negotiating.”
I slid behind the wheel and eased onto the dimly lit street. If a letter from an attorney could help me get Penelope back, I wasn’t above hiring a real one the minute my stalker was caught.
A man in traditional livery waved me down at the corner. “Miss?” He had something that looked like a cell phone in his hands.
I checked my purse and pulled over. Jeez. I powered down my passenger window.
“You dropped your phone.”
“Thank you so much. I can’t believe I did that.”
He jogged to the passenger door and pulled it open, pointing a handgun at me from beneath his jacket. “Scream and die.” His dark eyes were hard and bloodshot. “We’re going to go for a ride. You’re going to take me to the diamonds. Those are mine. He owes me. He knew it. He doesn’t need them anymore, so they’re leaving town with me. Got it?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I blathered, desperately scanning the scene for someone to notice my despair. From outside my car, I looked like someone casually speaking to a member of Mom’s evening staff. Not like someone about to die a bloody death because I hadn’t been able to read the mind of a dead man. “I swear. I don’t know anything about Miguel’s diamonds.” My bottom lip quivered, and I sucked in a fresh breath.
“They’re my diamonds,” he growled. He raised the barrel of his gun inch by inch. “I know Miguel had them when he went into your store, and he didn’t have them when the coroner hauled him out. The only other person in there was you. You’re going to take me to them, now, or I’m going to shoot you.” He emphasized the final words.
Whoever he was, he’d lost his blessed mind. Panic coursed through my veins like lightning. I’d been through this before. I wouldn’t do it again. I said a prayer and crammed the gas pedal against the floorboard.
The phone toppled onto my floor. His gun clattered onto the road.
He vanished with a grunt and a swear.
I sped through stop signs, screaming and pounding my horn while burning rubber down my parents’ street. My car door hung open in the wind. There was no one in the rearview. Did I imagine a carjacking? Was I losing my mind? Had fear finally taken my sanity, too? I fumbled for the phone with one hand and took the next left turn on two wheels. My door slammed shut and someone honked at me.
I hit speed dial and prayed Jack could find the guy before he shot anyone at Mom’s party.
No answer. Why did he even have a cell phone if he wasn’t ever going to answer it?
I dialed Dad’s cell next and spewed the information while barreling through the district with nowhere to go. “You need to pull over and calm down,” Dad insisted. “Don’t drive like this.”
“Hang on,” I sobbed. “Jack’s calling me back on the other line.” My teeth chattered as I took the call. “Jack?”
“Come back,” he answered. “I’ve got the guy, and I need your statement.”
“You’ve got him? Already?” I pulled into a bookstore parking lot to hyperventilate and wipe my nose. I rested my forehead on the steering wheel since I couldn’t get it between my knees. “Really?”
“I told you. I only needed to be at the right place at the right time.”
I sucked in a painful breath and let it out slowly. My fingers were numb from my grip on the wheel. “You were at Mom’s party because I was there?” I whipped my head up and the world spun. “I told her that and she didn’t believe me. How’d you know I was going?”
“I saw your invitation at Furry Godmother the day she gave it to you. For the record, stalking is subjective. I was on the lookout for this guy. I knew he was on the lookout for you. Take a minute to get it together, then get back here. I need your statement before the ambulance arrives.”
I reversed out of the lot and pointed my car back down Prytania Street. “I think he was Miguel’s partner. He said those diamonds were his and Miguel owed him. What ambulance?”
“He’s Levi Marks, and I had to call for medical. You ran over his foot.”