Mom gaped, the last thing she expected me to say, I guess. She recovered quickly enough while Liz laughed, though she smothered her amusement after a single bark.
“Sorry,” the agent muttered. “It’s not funny. But seriously.” Her dark brown eyes sparkled. “Did you really?”
Grumble. I filled them both in on the case, along with Crew’s little act of town defiance making me a deputy. Liz slapped me on the shoulder, grinning, while Mom looked suddenly very worried.
“Welcome to law enforcement, Deputy Fleming,” the agent said.
“Fee, you can’t possibly accept.” Mom hesitated, beautiful face twisting into concern so severe I was about a heartbeat from standing up and hugging her before she pulled herself under control. I’d always thought it was my dad who kept me from being a police officer out of a misplaced—okay, so I was his kid, not so misplaced—need to protect me from the job he loved and that I know was my calling. But I had no idea Mom was so against it, too. How much of her influence led Dad to push my buttons to the point I left Reading and avoided law enforcement all together?
“It’s just a formality,” I said, partially to placate my mom and partially to shut Liz down. “The Pattersons weren’t happy I snuck onto the property. I think Crew was just trying to keep me from getting arrested for B&E.” And, as I said it without thinking, I realized that was exactly what he’d done.
Sigh. I wasn’t sure if I should be all gushy over him having my back or pissed off he didn’t think I could take care of myself.
“Might come in handy, anyway,” Liz said, humor fading. “If what I’m here to talk to you about is true, you could use a badge behind you, Fee.”
Mom looked back and forth between us and I lost the chance to talk to Liz alone when she spoke up. “What are you talking about, Agent Michaud?”
Argh. Just what I needed. Over-protective Mom hovering with a dripping stew spoon giving Petunia enough splatters of tasty yumminess to keep the pug occupied, at least. If only it was so easy to distract my mother.
Liz didn’t seem to notice she’d stirred up her own pot of oh crap. Instead, she focused on me, frowning, pulling those perfectly arched brows together, bow lips pursed. “Crew hasn’t said anything to you about it, has he?”
I gulped. “Is he in trouble?” Please, could we just, for once, catch a break and pretend we might live happily ever after without some kind of disaster crashing our party? I only had three months to go and I’d be married, at least. Surely we could make it to Christmas without our lives imploding over something Crew wasn’t telling me about his past?
Right, because me finding dead folks and almost dying multiple times wasn’t bad enough. Blame it on Crew, Fee. Nice. And yet, he was the one out of town on a mysterious errand he hadn’t said a thing about, right? Secrets and death, the ties that bound.
Liz was shaking her head, enough of a denial I knew I was, in fact, the culprit of this particular story. And while I knew Crew was notorious for not filling me in when he thought he was protecting me, my irritation at being kept in the dark simmered a few degrees hotter as Liz spoke.
“I told him to fill you in,” she said. “That you deserve to know.” Liz shook her head, silken hair shivering in a dark rope of shining threads. I caught the scent of her shampoo while she blew out a soft breath of her own frustration. “He’s not doing you any favors keeping you in the dark.”
Mom’s hand came down on the counter, her expression tight, controlled, demanding. “Spill it.” She looked startled then, as if her abrupt interruption came as a shock even to her. “If you please, Agent Michaud.”
Liz didn’t seem put off by my mother’s reaction, instead returning her attention to me. “A profiler friend of mine has been conducting interviews, kind of a pet project of his. He likes to talk to unusual murderers about their crimes.” I waited while she sipped her coffee, the last, faint trails of steam rising from the black surface before she went on. “He called me a few days ago, worried. About you. After he interviewed Peggy Malone.”
So, the horrible old woman who’d once tried to frame me for her nephew’s death and then attempted to murder me, the same woman who’d been my Grandmother Iris’s friend, along with Marie Patterson of all people, still lingered in my psyche like a toothache I could never quite shake. Just the sound of her name being spoken made me shiver, took me back to that night in her parlor—now the annex next door—when I’d almost died the first time with her gun pointed at my chest. I glanced down when Petunia moaned softly, a reminder that without the pug that same grandmother left me, I’d likely not be sitting here at the moment.
The dog’s shining dark eyes met mine and she snorted once. Did she sense my unease or was it just typical Petunianess that led her to cross to me and sit on my foot while I returned my attention to Liz?
Didn’t matter. The feeling of her hot butt on my toes comforted me like nothing else. Except maybe Crew’s arms around me. And the chance to give him what for over keeping this from me.
“Peggy holds a massive grudge, Fee,” Liz said. “Big enough and scary enough it made my friend pause. And he’s been a profiler for two decades.” She stared down into her mug. “Said he’d never seen such a level of hate in someone before as he did in her.” Her eyes met mine again. “For you.” Liz reached out with one hand and grasped mine in a tight grip, her own anxiety finally showing. “Peggy wants you dead, Fee, and if my friend is right, she has a plan to make it happen.”
I couldn’t respond. What even were words in the wake of such a pronouncement?
Mom, it seemed, didn’t have the same inability to be coherent. “But she’s in prison.” Like that was the be all and end all, in her opinion. “For the rest of her life.”
Her hopefully short and suffering life, for what my dreams and goals for Peggy Munroe were worth.
“All I know,” Liz said, warning in her tone, “is what Harry told me.” She paused. “SSA Martingale.” I didn’t shrug, nod, nada. “According to him, her obsession with you is so consuming, he’s concerned she might find a way to reach you despite being incarcerated.”
I finally did nod, heavy and hating that even though I’d done my best to put her out of my mind, Peggy’s continuing health despite the fact she should never be able to hurt me again, had always lingered as an unhappy reminder my past might catch up with me someday.
“So, since Crew is out of town,” Liz went on, brightening, “and considering my insider qualifications to assist, I’ll put in for permission to help out with your case. If that’s okay with you?”
Wait, what? “Insider qualifications?” I didn’t need anyone to look out for me, not even Crew. Where was he again? And why, if I was so independent, thank you very much, did I suddenly feel so much better knowing Liz was going to hang around?
“I might not have been an Olympic hopeful in my day,” she said with a wink, “but I know enough about the show jumping world to be of service. Besides, I have time coming and, for some reason I just can’t explain, I kind of like it here.”
Was she staying for my benefit or my mother’s? Because the way Mom sagged into the counter, relief visible on her face, I had my doubts Liz said as much to make me feel better.
“We’re delighted to have you, Agent Michaud,” Mom said. “If Fee can’t make room for you at Petunia’s, John and I are happy to have you in our home.”
Wow, Mom really was relieved Liz was staying. The agent just shrugged, reaching for her phone again.
“Going to make a call to the office,” she said, swinging off her stool like an old-time gunslinger prepping for battle at high noon. “Be right back.”
I turned back to Mom when Liz crossed to the kitchen door and spoke quietly into her cell while my mother pretended to smooth the front of her pristine apron, though the bubbling stew pot really needed a stir if she didn’t want to burn supper.
“Please, Fee,” Mom said then, voice cracking just a little, a glaring sign she was upset as she seemed to realize herself she was neglecting her favorite dinner offering, the long spoon dipping into the rich stew. “Be careful. And take the warning seriously. Peggy Munroe has always been a force to be reckoned with.”
Mom didn’t have to tell me twice. Though I lingered more so on the fact Crew failed to inform me this problem was even something I needed to obsess over, but, on a lighter note, finding myself grinning at the fact his ex-partner’s idea of time off was investigating a murder. And wondering what he’d think of the two of us working together without him here to supervise.
I was usually the source and even I smelled trouble.
***