Perilously Fun Fiction: A Bundle Pauline Jones (the red fox clan txt) 📖

“Can you have someone contact Miss Stanley’s friends for her?”

Dillon pulled out a notebook. “Names? Descriptions?”

I looked into his sardonic face and wished I was unconscious again.

“I think you know them…Jerome and Tommy…” I faltered as his brows rose towards his hairline. “…and Drum.”

He stared at me for a long moment, then turned and stalked towards the club. I looked at Kel and Willis.

“That went—” I stopped, because that summed it up.

Someone called Kel, leaving Willis behind to stare at me with brooding gaze, until I finally asked, “What?”

“I think I have you figured out and filed away, then you pop up again. Always as the victim.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t try.

“A great, big question mark that the CIA has thrown a blanket over, so wide that a lowly cop like me can’t penetrate it. Why is that, I wonder?”

I shrugged, my arm protested, making me wince. “I don’t know. I’m harmless.”

“Harmless?” He turned and looked at the body in the black bag being wheeled past us.

I looked away. “He was trying to kill me. And he did kill Mrs. Carter and Paul Mitchell. It’s not my fault he’s dead.”

Willis shrugged. “Well, at least Bobby can’t hurt you now. You should be safe.”

“I certainly hope so.” I sighed. “I have to play the organ for Mrs. Carter’s funeral tomorrow. It’ll be easier now that I know her killer has been caught.”

He nodded somberly and turned to go, then hesitated. “Did you remember that sketch you promised me?”

“What? Oh, sure. I’ll get it to you real soon.” When I found my sketch book. If I found my sketch book. I’d have to ask Kel if he found it.

“I guess you wouldn’t reconsider giving me that one with me and Dillon in it?”

I looked at him. “You recognized yourself?”

He grinned. “Sure. You’re not kind, but you’re good.”

“Well, I guess I could give you a copy,” I said, “when I get my sketchbook back.”

“Back?” He looked surprised. “Did you lose it?”

“Oh, no. Just temporarily misplaced it.”

“Oh, well, I’ll check back with you.”

I nodded. I suppose it was the murky lighting that made his eyes look unfriendly.

The guys were both defiant and solicitous when they arrived with Drum’s dad and my coat. I think they were also chagrined they’d missed the chance to play hero. They wanted to waft me home, but Kel protected me from their overly enthusiastic care by implying the police weren’t done with me yet and that I would be conveyed home officially.

“This is official?” I asked, as Kel settled me into his little Porsche, then expertly maneuvered the car away from my second crime scene. Or was it my third? I’d lost count.

“You could look on it as a chance to discover for yourself what’s under the hood.”

I was too tired to blush, so I gave him a look. He grinned, steering the car with a slight air of bravado, and putting the car through its paces. I’d noticed him eyeing the guys biceps and had to smile. “Your dates were a tad defiant there at the end.”

“Yeah, that must have been some meeting with Drum’s dad. A pity about the goodnight kiss.” I started a silent count. Only got to seven.

“Goodnight kiss?”

“Yeah, they thought it wouldn’t be sensitive to line up on my doorstep, so I was supposed to choose which one got it. It’s just as well. If I picked Jerome, then what would I do about his dad?”

“Why do I feel another bombshell coming?”

“Not a bombshell. A date. With his father.”

“You have a date with Jerome’s father?”

“For bingo and accordion polkas. It’s so depressing. He’d be perfect for my mother. She loves bingo and accordion—” I straightened up and looked at Kel, stunned by my inadvertent brilliance. “Of course. Mike fell for Rosemary. Steve can fall for my mother.”

“Steve.” Kel gave a half laugh. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re one sick puppy?”

“Pretty much everybody. I write about a roach, remember?” I sank back in my seat, covering a yawn with my un-winged hand.

“Tired?”

“I passed tired a long time ago.”

“My shoulders may not be as broad as your young men’s, but I’m told they’re comfortable.”

By who, I wondered, too tired to ask, but not too tired to be curious. I settled against his solid warmth, felt his strength flow into me. And whatever he thought, his shoulders were every bit as broad as the boys—unless you added them all together.

“Would you tell me something?”

I blinked sleepily. “If I can.” Life with my mother had taught me to be wary of committing to unknown questions.

“What was the real reason you ran out on me yesterday?”

“I was hoping you’d forgotten that.” I kept my eyes closed, hoping the discussion would go away.

“It took ten years off my life.”

“Then you owe me some. You took twenty off mine when you dived through the sun roof.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No.” I tried to ignore his expectant silence, but he was good. Almost as good as my mother. “Let’s just say I got a little mixed up…about who was on who’s side and who was doing what to whom and leave it at that, okay?”

“You thought because I was the only one you’d told about your round-headed guy that I was trying to kill you, didn’t you?” He pulled his car to a stop in front of my house and looked down at me.

“Well, yes, but not just because of that.” It seemed impertinent to be using his shoulder after just accusing him of trying to murder me, so I sat up. “You kept kissing me, too.”

“You thought because I kissed you…I wanted you dead?” I could tell he tried hard not to sound incredulous.

“It seemed logical at the time.”

“And what made you decide you could trust me?” He turned to face me and the small car with the big engine shrunk to the space of a heart beat.

Why, I wondered dreamily, was he the one