| |
Evangeline
THE WEATHER FINALLY cleared up two days later, so despite feeling the highly unfamiliar emotion of disappointment, I left Nashville behind and headed to Savannah.
I’d texted with Shep a few times before leaving, and I think the reason I was feeling disappointment over leaving Nashville was because I was going to miss him.
No, that couldn’t possibly be it.
“Ms. Monroe?”
I was pulled from my thoughts by the deep voice, and I glanced up at the flight attendant. “Yes?”
“Would you like more wine?”
No, what I want is Shep Waller’s face between my legs, but that’s not on the menu.
“Yes, wine would be great, thank you.”
I paced myself with the wine, since the flight was short, and once we touched down, I headed to my hotel. I didn’t have anything on the agenda for the evening, so I took a hot shower, and opened a bottle of wine.
* * *
The next day, my speaking engagement finally wrapped up, and I had just sat down at the table getting ready to sign books when a familiar voice washed over me.
“Will you sign mine first, ma’am?”
I glanced up to find Shep standing in front of me, and I forced myself not to sigh like a love-struck schoolgirl.
“Shepard Waller, what are you doing here?” I demanded, standing and making my way around the table to hug him.
“At the risk of sounding like a stalker, I had a rental property I needed to check on, plus my mama has been buggin’ me to visit, so I figured now’s a good a time as any.”
“And it had nothing to do with the fact you knew I was going to be in town?”
“I’ll give you the answer to that question over dinner tonight? What time do you wrap up?”
“Wow, you’re pretty pushy for a stalker, I thought you guys hung back in the bushes.” I tapped my lips with my fingertips as though I was in thought. “No, wait, that would make you more like a peeping tom, huh?”
“A bad one, if that’s the case. I’m afraid I left my good binoculars at home.” Shep smirked. “Would you settle for a hungry Shep? I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I’d love to join you for dinner,” I breathed out. “But I might not get out until late.”
“No problem. I’m used to eatin’ late. Chef’s hours and all.”
I grinned. “Right.”
“Text me when you’re ready and I’ll pick you up. Until then, I’ll make myself scarce.”
I nodded and watched him for a few long seconds as he walked away.
* * *
Shep
I couldn’t stop the shit-eatin’ grin as I climbed into my rental and headed to my mother’s home. To say I was happy that Evangeline accepted my dinner date was an understatement. The truth was, I was fuckin’ ecstatic. I hadn’t been able to get her out of my head for the last two days, and I knew flying down for the week was a risk, but I wasn’t lying when I said I had a rental I needed to check on, or a mother who wanted to see me. Of course, I’d just been here two months ago, but my mother sure as hell wouldn’t complain about seeing me again so soon.
I pulled into the driveway and turned off the car, then grabbed my bag and headed to the front door. Ringing the doorbell, I tried the doorknob, unsurprised the door opened, and pushed inside. “Mama?”
“Kitchen!” she called back.
I closed and locked the door, dropping my bag on the floor, then made my way to the back of the house, finding my mother elbows deep in a chicken. I grinned. “What are you doin’, woman?” I demanded, wrapping my arms around her from behind and kissing her neck.
“What does it look like I’m doin’?” she sassed. “I’m makin’ my boy dinner.”
I sighed, crossing my arms and leaning against the counter.
“Well, shit,” she breathed out. “You got plans.”
“I do.”
“It’ll keep.” She shrugged, giving me her signature, million dollar smile. “You gonna be here tomorrow night?”
I chuckled. “I can be.”
“Correct answer, child of my loins.” She wrapped the chicken up and set it in the fridge then washed her hands before hugging me. “How was your flight?”
“Good.” I hugged her back, then grabbed a beer and sat at the kitchen table. “How are your gutters?”
I’d patched them last time I was in town, but it had been raining heavily over the past month, so wasn’t sure how long they’d last. They’d ultimately need to be replaced.
“No leaks,” Mom said.
I tipped my beer toward her. “For now.”
“For now,” she said, pouring a glass of wine and sitting across from me. “Now, tell me about this girl.”
I glanced at my wristwatch. “That took you all of four minutes, Mama. A record.”
She rolled her eyes. “Tell me everything.”
I laughed. “I don’t know everything. I just met her.”
“Then tell me what you do know.”
For the next hour, I filled my mother in on everything I knew about the beautiful Evangeline Monroe. Well, the PG version of it, anyway. Once Mom was satisfied as much as a nosy southern mother could be, I took a quick shower, and finished dressing just as Evangeline texted she’d be ready in about thirty minutes.
I grabbed my keys and told my mother not to wait up before heading out.
* * *
Evangeline
The last reader had lingered a little longer than I would have liked, telling me all about her daughter, mother, and niece who’d all been abused. Of course, not as badly as I had been (her words), but she was convinced her sister’s brittle bone disease had been brought on as a result of the sexual trauma she’d experience in high school and wanted to know my thoughts on this phenomenon.
Within my studies, I couldn’t recall ever reading any medical journals positing a link between sexual assault and osteogenesis imperfecta, but admittedly, I wasn’t a medical doctor, so I did my best to gently guide her to reach out to one. When she said she’d already done that, I was about to recommend her sister talk to a counselor when I was once again interrupted Shep’s velvety voice.
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
We turned to face him and the woman, I think her name was Barbara, let out a quiet giggle. “Um, yes?”
“I’m so sorry, I’m Ms. Monroe’s publicist, and I have to steal her away for a scheduled interview.”
I checked my wrist for a watch that wasn’t there. “Oh, is it that time already?”
“Does she really have to go?” Barbara complained. “We were in the middle of such a good conversation.”
“I’m afraid so,” Shep said. “If she’s even a minute late, the people at Cat Fancy will chew me out.”
“Oh, they’re the worst,” I breathed out. “I keep telling him to take them off the list. But the readership is just so loyal.”
“I love Cat Fancy. You don’t have to tell me, I’m a subscriber,” Barbara said.
Shep took my hand. “Well, then, be sure to look for her article.”
I pressed my lips together and forced back a laugh as Shep extracted me from the situation, practically having to put himself between me and the woman before walking me away.
“Oh my god, thank you,” I said. “I didn’t know how I was going to get out of that.”
“I’m not kidding, this bitch with Cat Fancy is scary.”
I laughed. “Now Barbara’s going to be really upset when she doesn’t find an article. I’m going to get a very long letter of annoyance.”
“Don’t worry about it, they’re just doin’ their best to ‘ride the bull.’”
“Huh?”
“Tryin’ to hit that eight-second mark before the buzzer.” He settled his hand on my lower back and guided me to the room behind the signing table. “If they can keep you engaged and talking for as long as possible, they will keep doing it, and come back over and over again because you’re famous in their eyes, so to them you become their friend and confidante.”
“Oh my god, that makes total sense.”
He grinned. “You’ve just gotta figure out how to buck ’em off quicker.”
“Or bring you with me to every engagement.”
“Or that.” Shep chuckled. “Are you good to go, or do you need to pack up?”
“I’m good to go.”
“Are you hungry?”
“They actually fed us, so I’m good, unless you need to eat.”
He shook his head. “I’m fine. Come on. I’ll show you around Savannah.”
We walked out to his car, and he drove me down to Forsythe Park, where he parked, and then he took my hand and we continued along the brick lined streets of the Historic District, walking hand-in-hand, the cool southern evening air chasing away the heat of the day.
I’d never known peace the way I had when I was with Shep. Every man I’d ever known had entered my life as a stranger and left the same way. With Shep, the more I learned about him, and spent time with him, the safer I felt.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Shep asked.
“What? Oh, sorry. Did I go away for a little while?”
“Yeah, but not like I’ve seen before,” he replied.
I stalled. “What do you mean, before?”
“Last week, when you were speaking at the Mandrake House, and a few times since we met, I’ve got the sense that you sometimes dissociate.” He shook his head. “I hope it’s okay that I said that. I don’t mean to pry or anything—”
“It’s okay, Shep. You’re not wrong. I’m just surprised you’d notice something like that.”
“My mother said I was a sensitive kid, and even though my pops tried to toughen me up, I think that part of me stayed pretty true. It’s what made me a good firefighter and now a chef, if you can feel what someone needs before they can even form it into words, your job is half done.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, tell me then. What do I want right now?”
“You want two things,” Shep replied, confidently. “First, you want one of these.”
He leaned down and kissed me gently. Slowly, exquisitely. God, this man knew how to use his mouth, and my body ached with the thought of him using it all over me.
“Okay,” I said, once he’d broken the kiss. “You got number one right, what else do I want?”
“You want me to take you to my favorite place in all of Savannah.”
“Ooh, sounds fancy.”
He cocked his head. “Well, the favorite place of nine-year-old Sheppard Waller.”
“Hmm.” I bit my lip. “That sounds less fancy.”
“Come on,” he said, guiding me across the street and around the corner to Professor Norman’s House of Magic, Toys, and Games.
“Your stellar empathic skills told you that I wanted to come to a toy shop?”
“‘The toys and games are merely a ruse for the uninitiated punters,’ Professor Norman himself would say.”
I laid my hand on my chest. “Oh, my god. You were a magic kid.”
“The words you’re looking for are junior prestidigitator.”
I scrunched up my face in horror. “Jesus H. Jones, you were a creepy magic kid?”
“I was Professor Norman’s best and brightest student. I was so gifted at the art, the Professor gave me private lessons for free.”
“Is the professor still with us?” I asked.
“Sadly, no. He was already quite old when I was hanging around here. Somewhere around one hundred and thirty years old as best I could figure,” Shep said, holding the shop door open for me.
“A hundred and thirty? Get out of here.”
“The professor was a wise and powerful man,” Shep said as we entered.
“He was a cranky old bastard who made his living selling gimmicked decks and fake vomit,” a middle-aged man said, making his way toward us.
“Evangeline, may I introduce you to the Professor’s son?” Shep said, waving his hand toward the man. “Professor Junior.”
“Gimmie a break with that shit, will ya?” He gave Shep a gentle slap of the cheek before turning his attention to me. “Evangeline, I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Lawrence. This is my family’s shop.”
I smiled. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lawrence.”
“Come on, Larry. Don’t tell me you’re still the straightest arrow to ever stick in the mud,” Shep teased.
Lawrence turned to me with and tsked. “Evangeline. I’m not sure how you met this, this...this... hang about. This loiterer but let me tell you something. He’s a dreamer and he’s never going to amount to anything.”
Shep’s mouth dropped open in mock disgust. “Did you just call me a loiterer?”
“You are the master and chief of loitering.”
I did my best to suppress my laughter at the affectionate bickering between these two men.
“You should have seen this little pest back when my father still ran the place,” Lawrence said. “He’d hang around for hours and hours without buying a single thing.”
“Untrue,” Shep said.
“Oh, sure. On occasion you’d scrounge up enough change to buy a false thumb tip or a comic book, but the rest of the time you’d be on that stool next to the counter pestering my father into showing him how to do all the tricks in the shop. And instead of my father doing the smart thing for the business and demanding that you buy the tricks and learn them, he’d always cave in and show you how to do them.”
“Pop always did like me best,” Shep said with a grin.
“You know, he’s not joking.” Lawrence wagged his finger. “I half expected the old man to leave you the shop in his will.”
“He did, but I thought it would be cruel to keep it from you, so I had the lawyers put it in your name.”
“Oh, so I have you to thank for all of this?”
“You’re welcome,” Shep replied.
The two men embraced. Complete with the hearty back slapping that always seems to accompany a good ol’ fashioned man hug.
“It’s good to see you again, Shep. Mom and I still really appreciate everything you did for the family when dad died.”
“It’s nothing. The least I could do for the professor. You know how much I loved him.”
Lawrence shook his head before turning his attention back to me. “This man is as good as they come, Evangeline. Now, I can tell by the look on this kid’s face that he’s sweet on you, but if you aren’t yet convinced about him. Let me tell you, he’s a keeper.”
“Alright, Larry. Take it down a notch, buddy, or I’ll send you some rubber vomit.”
I laughed, but I was terrified. I could no longer deny it. I was developing feelings for a man who seemed to be too good to be true, and I couldn’t help but be afraid I was going to get hurt, and that none of this would end up going well for either of us.
“Come on, let me show you around,” Shep said, taking my hand before walking me up and down the aisles.
As we perused this magical kingdom of toys, Shep kept me entertained with magic tricks and gag props. The aisles were lined with masks, costumes, and magic kits, fake arrows through the head, fake knives, even a fake full-sized guillotine. A house of deception and misdirection. My kind of place indeed.
After a while, we said goodnight to Lawrence and the Norman family magic shop and continued our wonderful stroll through Old Town. Still, as much fun as I was having with Shep, I was unable to step out from under the black cloud hanging above my head. I only hoped Shep couldn’t sense my feelings of impending doom. We didn’t have much time left together, and I wanted it to be unforgettable. I was enjoying my time with him, and even though I knew it couldn’t last, I wanted to at least play pretend for a little while longer.
* * *
Clarke
I returned to Black Sheep Hollow to find my inbox filled with the usual. Noise complaints from warring neighbors. Reports of vandalism and petty theft. Melinda Mayflower, one of our local whores, slipped and fell inside the Nickel and was threatening to sue, but apparently Deputy Jost was able to calm her down after getting Larry to agree to give her seventy-five dollars from the till. The bidding had started at fifty, to which Melinda countered with one hundred. Jost closed the deal at seventy-five, and Ms. Mayflower went along her merry way. Hiring a local boy as my deputy proved to be a wise decision. Jost was far brighter than I’d have thought, and everyone in town seemed to like him. In fact, I had zero fear of leaving him in charge next time I left town, which I hoped would be soon.
Since returning home, I’d been consumed with thoughts of Evangeline. I could barely focus on what little work I had, let alone on the secret case, which I was now sure was heading nowhere. I jerked off to thoughts of her every night. Going so far as to creating AI porn out of pictures I found of her on the internet. I kept thinking about what would have happened that night if she hadn’t been called away on an emergency. She wanted me to fuck her, that was clear. I only hoped the invitation inside her pants would still be open the next time we met.
There was no use in trying to concentrate on this petty horseshit anymore. I was about to buzz Betty’s desk and tell her that I was leaving early when Jost knocked on my open office door.
“Come on in,” I said.
“Hey, Sheriff,” Jost said, closing the door behind him before handing me a file folder. “I managed to get Evangeline Monroe’s credit card statements from the past six months.”
“Find anything interesting?” I asked, perusing the records.
“Nothing out of the ordinary at all. She eats Chinese takeout more than you’d think for someone as fit as she is. She pays her statement, every month, right on time. According to these records, she’s about as boring as can be.”
There is absolutely nothing boring about Evangeline Monroe.
“Alright, Deputy. Good work. With this and everything else, I suppose we can safely rule out Ms. Monroe as a person of interest.”
“Yeah, unless you want to bust her for that unpaid parking ticket,” Jost said with a laugh.
“What ticket?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing. She parked her rental car in a no parking zone while in Miami a few months back and got a ticket she still hasn’t paid.”
My blood ran cold.
“She was in Miami? You’re sure?”
“Yup. It’s in there, page three I think,” he said, pointing to the file.
Sure enough, Evangeline had rented a car in Miami during the timeframe in which Judge Faulkner ‘drowned.’ The parking ticket she received was only one block away from the Judge’s beach house.
She lied to me.
Holy shit, Evangeline Monroe is the killer.
