Mystic Mistletoe Murder Page 13

  I spun around.

  Zachary Jones had walked up behind us. He took hold of Diane's arm just above the elbow.

  She tried to jerk away, but he held on.

  "You know your deadbeat husband owed me a pretty penny, and the jerk stiffed me out of it all. So, I'm going to be looking to you to make good on it."

  Diane began to shake and whimper, her gaze shifting to beg me for help. "Don't let him hurt me. Call the police."

  We all three turned as one as Lurch's low moan rumbled around us.

  Zachary let go of Diane like she was a hot potato. He stepped away. "No need to call the police." He was nervous and understandably so. I'd probably have been nervous too if I ran an illegal gambling parlor. He began to move away toward the auxiliary wing where Stella by Starlight plied her wares. But he stopped and looked around. "I'll be in touch, Mrs. Conner. Don't forget. I know where you live." He paused another minute, his gaze turning to me. "You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere else?" He squinted.

  My heart jumped up into my throat. At least it felt that way. "Well, yeah," I said quickly. "I was in the Presto-Change-o Room the other day. Remember?" I wanted to wave my hand in front of him and say, "These aren't the droids you're looking for."

  But he shrugged it off before I had to deny anything else. "Oh. Yeah. Right." Then he turned and walked away.

  Diane cleared her throat and hurried out the front door.

  Lurch and I stood looking after her, and as the funeral dirge played when she crossed the threshold, he said, "Thanks for visiting The Mansion. Please come again." I looked at him. He shrugged. "Mr. Stockton says it's my job to say that. He didn't say I have to mean it." It was more than I'd ever heard him say at one time, and I watched him return to his post at the door, my mouth hanging open.

  In only a few minutes, I'd made my way to the tattoo parlor and unlocked the door that Harry had custom-made just for Dragons and Deities. It was a big arched door made of heavy weathered planks. Iron bars held the planks together, and the handle was a big iron ring.

  He'd had it made the first time a female customer, a Bourbon Street stripper named Fiona the Fairy, had wanted a tattoo of a winged fairy emerging from the center of a lotus blossom on her booty, and there had been no way to give her privacy except by placing a screen in front of the table. Word had gotten around the resort somehow, and a lot of Looky Lous had shown up. A construction crew came the very next day, altered the doorway opening to the arch, and in only another couple of days, the door had arrived. Ever since, when a tattoo was requested on someone's private parts, I closed the door. It allowed for fewer distractions from the gallery.

  The triplets, short, slim, and dressed alike—really?—showed up right on time at nine thirty. They loved the design I'd created of the three chimpanzees with their hands clasped respectively over their eyes, ears, and mouth. Their request had something to do with what their mother had said to them each and every night when she tucked them into bed as children.

  One of them was done, and I was just getting ready to start the second tattoo when my cell phone rang.

  "Excuse me." I moved away from the trio who were busy admiring the extremely hairy little sucker with his hands over his eyes and the mystical vines twining around him that I'd spent the last three hours inking on the client's upper arm.

  "Hello?"

  "Mel, it's Valentine."

  "Hi, what's up?"

  "I need a favor. A big favor."

  "Sure," I said. "What?"

  "We're short-handed in the kitchen. Aaron called in sick this morning. We're in the middle of lunch, and we've still got refreshments to put together for the memorial service this afternoon, and then comes dinner, and—"

  I interrupted her. "So, I get it. You're up to your eyeballs. What do you need from me?"

  "Benjy's at day camp. You know, the community center over by my place?"

  "Yes. I know the one."

  "Well, they're done after sack lunch at one, and I usually leave here for a bit to go pick him up and take him over to my sister's place for the rest of the day. But today, I'm just…I don't…"

  "You want me to do it?" I looked over at the triplets who were still deep in discussion about the body art. "Let me see what I can do. I'll call you right back."

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The air was crisp and cool. The console on Valentine's little silver-grey Nissan four-door said it was only sixty-four degrees outside, but the humidity made it seem a little warmer. When the weather was calm, like it was on that Friday afternoon the day before Christmas Eve, it took about twenty or twenty-five minutes to drive from Mystic Isle to Valentine Cantrell's neighborhood in Estelle.

  I'd sweet-talked the second of my trio of monkey tattoos into coming the next morning when his older-by-three-minutes brother was also scheduled for his appointment.

  Valentine had handed me her car keys. "Oh, Mel, thank you so much."

  "It's no problem," I'd said. And it really wasn't. The customers hadn't seemed to mind making a change, especially when I'd given them each a half-dozen drink coupons for the Presto-Change-o Room to smooth any ruffled feathers.

  I'd driven the route before, having done this same favor for Valentine a couple of times in the past. Holidays and summer vacations were a definite challenge for single mothers, especially when something unexpected came up.

  The community day camp center was in a strip mall on the main drag of the rural town where Valentine had chosen to raise her son. She'd called ahead and told them she was tied up and was sending someone over to pick up Benjy.

  I pulled up and parked next to the curb in front of The Dollar Store and went inside the community center.

  There were still about a dozen or so kids running around, watching cartoons, playing video games, and even a few reading actual books.

  A heavyset woman with tired hair and even tireder eyes met me at the counter by the front door. Her name badge read Agatha Thomas, Day Camp Counselor. I'd never seen her there before.

  "Yes?" She pushed hair off her forehead, but it just fell back down.

  "I'm here to pick up Benjy Cantrell," I said. "His mother called ahead, and I'm on the authorized pickup list anyway." I fished my driver's license from my bag.

  The counselor got a strange look on her face. It was something like a scared rabbit might look if cornered. When she took my license, her hand shook. She looked at it and handed it back to me. "You're the one Mrs. Cantrell called about?"

  I smiled. "I am, all day long." It was something Granddaddy Joe used to say whenever anyone asked a similar question.

  "I don't know what—" She turned away and yelled. "Thelma! Thelma, come quick!"

  Another woman I didn't know, older but more alert and less hassled than Agatha seemed to be, was at the front desk in a flash. "What is it?"

  Agatha swallowed hard. "This woman is here to pick up Benjy Cantrell."

  The two women stared at each other a long beat. "But didn't you just say…?" Thelma spoke first. "Then who…?"

  "Oh my God." Agatha said.

  "How long?" Thelma said, the urgency in her voice apparent.

  My stomach was starting to churn. Something was wrong.

  Agatha rounded from behind the desk. "Only a few minutes."

  "God, no!" Thelma threw up her hands and followed. They both leaned against the bar on the glass door, pushing it wide.

  I turned and followed, hoping and praying that what appeared to have happened hadn't.

  "There!" Agatha pointed across the parking lot and down the street. "That's the car she was in."

  A green two-door compact headed away from the day care center. It was too far away to say what kind of car it actually was.

  "Someone took Benjy?" My voice had gone up at least one octave maybe more. "Was it his aunt?"

  Agatha shook her head. "A white woman. I didn't ask her name. Since Mrs. Cantrell called, I thought—"

  I didn't hear what else she had to say, I was already out
the door, sprinting across the parking lot. Throwing open the car door, I hopped in, slamming it shut. I pushed the ignition then screeched out of the parking lot like my hair was on fire.

  Gas pedal smashed to the floor, heart nearly choking me, I steered like a maniac as I raced after the green car.

  If it had been a movie, I would have picked up my cell and called the police or Valentine or both of them, but it wasn't a movie, and it was all I could do to keep the car on the road.

  A light turned red in front of me, and I practically stood on the brake.

  "Come on." I pounded the steering wheel. "Come on. Dammit."

  After a few cars crossed the intersection in front of me, I looked both ways, took in a deep breath, and smashed down on the accelerator, shooting through the intersection against the light. "Hail Mary full of grace…" was all I managed to get out.

  The green car turned left up ahead. I prayed there were no cops around to stop me for driving like a crazed woman on her way to a Macy's Super Saturday Sale. When I came to where the green car had turned left, I slowed down and made the turn carefully. It would have been cool to go careening around the corner, but I just didn't have the skill to do it on two wheels.

  For a minute it looked like I might have lost them, but as I passed by General Jackson City Park, I saw the green compact parked under a big old willow tree in the shade.

  Walking away were a small boy and a woman.

  Benjy Cantrell.

  And Diane Conner.

  That bitch.

  This wasn't good. Duh. Of course it wasn't good, but the fact that it was Diane Conner who'd taken him somehow made it even worse than I'd originally thought. What should I do? I had no earthly idea.

  Staying at the edge of the parking area but close enough not to lose sight of Benjy and Diane, I dialed Quincy.

  "Boudreaux."

  "Quincy." It was a whisper—not sure why. I was alone in the car, but it seemed appropriate.

  It obviously threw him off. "Is that you, Mel?" He laughed. "You trying to seduce me or something?"

  "Shut up, Quincy, and listen. I'm at General Jackson City Park. Diane Conner took Valentine's son, Benjy. I've got my eye on them right now."

  "Huh?"

  "Really? I have to say all that again?"

  Then the cop in him took over. "She took him? What does that mean?"

  "Valentine sent me to pick Benjy up and take him to her sister's. When I got there, Diane had already come, taken him, and left."

  "And Valentine hadn't sent her?"

  "Of course not. Why would she send that nasty ol' thing? She's the last person Val would want around Benjy. I'm telling you that woman kidnapped him."

  "General Jackson City Park. Is she armed?"

  "How the heck should I know?"

  "I'm too far away to help quickly, but I'll find someone close and send them right over." He stopped for a minute before adding, "Think you can keep an eye on them without landing right in the middle of it?"

  Squinting against the sun's glare on the windshield, I could still see the two in the play area of the park.

  Diane had plopped down on a bench, while Benjy headed for the swings. "Sure. No problem. I'll stay out of it. Just get someone over here, please, Quincy. As fast as possible. I'm scared."

  After disconnecting the call, I debated whether or not to call Valentine. It was a decision I didn't have to make. My cell phone went off. Valentine's face appeared on the screen. The day camp must have already called her.

  Before I could say a word, her panicked voice was in my ear. "Oh, Lord Jesus, Melanie. What's happening?"

  I told her what I knew and reassured her that police were on the way.

  "Why?" Her voice cracked. "Why would the Conner woman take my son?"

  "I don't know why she took him, but I don't think she's going to hurt him, Val."

  "That's my prayer," was all she said.

  Across the grassy stretch between me and the boy, I saw Benjy slide out of the swing and run straight back toward where I'd parked. Diane jumped to her feet and yelled something, but I couldn't hear what was being said. Benjy kept coming, waving now.

  The car. He recognized his mother's car.

  Diane caught him and grabbed him by the arm, yanking him back toward her. The boy struggled but was too small to break loose, and she began pulling him across the park, away from the parking lot, away from me.

  No police, no deputies, not yet. Where were they?

  "Sorry, Quincy." I got out of the car, broke into a jog, and followed them, stopping at intervals, using clusters of trees for cover. She didn't move any faster, so it didn't look like she knew I was following them. But I needed help.

  Valentine's voice was in my head. "Aaron called in sick this morning."

  That meant he was at home. And from what I remembered, his place wasn't far from here. I scrolled through my phone and found his number that I'd put in yesterday when he offered to help clear Valentine.

  He answered on the second ringtone. "This is Aaron."

  "It's Mel."

  "Oh." There was surprise in his voice. "What's up?"

  I told him as quickly as I could.

  Before I could even finish, he said, "On my way. Keep them in sight. I'll text and let you know when I'm there."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Diane picked up the boy and moved deeper into the park where there were fewer people. Benjy looked tense but didn't seem to be struggling against her or arguing.

  I followed along.

  Diane didn't turn around, didn't look behind her. Even if she had, I didn't think she could see me.

  My cell phone vibrated in my hand. Aaron.

  I'm here. How do I get to you?

  I nearly wept.

  I texted back with details. In less than a couple of minutes, he was at my side, his face flushed and anxious.

  He sized up the situation in less than a minute and whispered, "Okay, here's what we do."

  Our heads together, he laid out a plan of attack.

  When he finished, I looked up at him. "I don't know if I can do this," I said. "But I'll do my best."

  Quincy's question came back to me. "Is she armed?"

  Armed? Scared. I was scared—for Benjy. For Aaron. And for me. But it didn't matter. I had to go through with it, and there was a good possibility we might all get through this without anyone getting hurt. Aaron's plan was pretty smart.

  Aaron laid his hand on my shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "You'll be great," he said, handing me his cell phone. "Don't worry."

  I nodded. He turned, hunched down, and made his way around to my left, using trees and bushes for cover.

  In the clearing in front of me, Diane had Benjy up in her lap. She was talking to him, her face serious. Benjy listened, shaking his head every now and then, nodding as well.

  After waiting long enough for Aaron to get in place and set up, I looked down at the screen on his phone. He'd opened his music app. In the other hand, I opened mine, pulling up the song we'd chosen on both phones. Volume up as high as it would go. A phone in each hand.

  Move out of the cover of the trees.

  Take a deep breath. Control the nerves that churned in my stomach, quickened my heart rate, and made me take rapid, shallow breaths.

  Now.

  A phone in each hand, I pressed Play.

  Miley Cyrus's "Wrecking Ball" blared from each phone. People a block away could probably hear it.

  And I began to run, gathering speed until I was running full out straight at the bench where Diane sat with Benjy.

  Diane's head jerked up in my direction.

  Right on cue, Aaron stormed out of the bushes behind her and vaulted the back of the park bench.

  Diane jumped up, her grip on Benjy still firm.

  Diane's startled yell rose above the sound of the blaring music.

  Aaron skidded back around, wrapping one arm around Benjy while he shoved Diane away with his forearm. She stumbled back, letting go of
the boy, landing on her butt in the grass, but was back on her feet when I ran up.

  Before she could come at either of us, I grabbed hold of Benjy's hand. "Come with me, Benjy."

  He knew me, had seen me with his mother, and I'd picked him up from school and day care before. So, thank God, he never questioned me or hesitated, running with me across the yellowed winter grass until we stopped about twenty or so yards away.

  Far enough Diane couldn't get to us.

  But I didn't need to worry about her coming after us. Aaron had her prone on the grass face down, a hand on her neck, a knee on the small of her back. All the fight seemed to have gone out of her.

  Her sobs carried on the wind, but Aaron didn't move or even look up. He was totally focused on her.

  I pulled Benjy up against me and wrapped my arms around him.

  "I want my mom." His small voice shook. "Where's my mom?"

  From the direction of the parking lot, two sheriff's deputies ran toward us, pulling their guns as they ran.

  A voice rang out. "Stay where you are."

  They reached Diane and Aaron. One of the deputies, gun aimed, slowed down and approached them more slowly.

  The other one stopped a ways back, keeping his weapon trained in their direction.

  Another deputy came from the bushes behind me. He took hold of my arm and pulled me around to face him.

  "What's your name?" he demanded.

  "Hamilton," I said. "Melanie Hamilton. This is Benjy Cantrell. That woman over there, she—"

  "I know, Miss Hamilton. Chief Deputy Boudreaux sent us. I just needed to make sure who you are." He knelt in front of Benjy who was now clinging to my leg, his frightened gaze riveted on the deputy. "Are you okay, son?"

  Benjy gulped in air and nodded. My heart broke for him. He must have been scared half out of his wits.

  The deputy looked up at me. "Why don't the two of you relocate to the parking lot, Miss Hamilton? We've got things covered here."

  After looking, it was obvious the deputies did have things covered. Aaron was on his feet, hands waving around as he spoke beyond my hearing to the deputies.

  Diane was now seated on the park bench, her head lowered, her hands covering her face.