Relentless Pursuit (34 page)
"Come on back to the kitchen. We'll hear if anybody comes in." Theresa led them back to the little kitchenette area behind her shop. Before she'd moved in with Max, she'd lived in the one-bedroom apartment above her retail space. The living and sleeping areas were upstairs and the kitchen downstairs.
Within a minute she had everybody's cup ready, and slid the creamer and sugar on the countertop.
"You know, I never really got to look around much the night Remy and I stayed here." Jinx glanced around the space with its cozy warmth and inviting vibe. It wasn't modern or updated, no contemporary granite or stainless steel, but it felt welcoming.
"Well, you were kind of busy, hiding out. You were barely here overnight before you got hauled out by the Russians. Checking out my kitchen probably wasn't high on your list of priorities."
Jinx chuckled. "I was way more interested in getting Remy out of his pants. Chances were good we were going to die and I wanted one last night with him."
"But it worked out and you're together. I've never seen Remy so happy."
There was a companionable silence for a few minutes, before Theresa decided to wade right in.
"I know why you're here."
"You do?" Alyssa met her stare directly, not backing down or intimidated by Theresa. "Why are we here?"
"Max sent you. Darn it."
Alyssa looked at Jinx, who shrugged and rolled her eyes, before turning back to Theresa.
"Sorry, Madame Psychic, but we haven't talked to Max."
That couldn't be right
. Max had been pushing all week, wanting to set a wedding date—and she couldn't. Not yet.
"Of course he sent you."
"Actually," Jinx interrupted, "I sent us. I mean it was my idea to come here, because—Remy and I are engaged!"
She held out her left hand, showing Theresa the diamond ring on her finger.
"Really! That is so awesome."
"Seriously—you kept that thing hidden from me the whole drive over here?" Alyssa playfully smacked Jinx's arm. "When did he pop the question?"
"Last night."
"Was it all romantic—Remy seems like he'd be the kind to get down on one knee and propose." Alyssa sighed dramatically and fluttered her eyelashes. Theresa looked at Jinx and they burst out laughing.
"Remy down on one knee, please, girlfriend, pigs will fly out of my butt before he'd do something so normal." Jinx chuckled at the look on her friend's face.
"How did he propose then?" Alyssa demanded.
Theresa felt a tickle at her psyche right before a picture of Remy popped into her mind's eye. She watched the events unfold, like a mini movie playing behind her eyelids, which flew open along with her mouth, forming a perfect O."
"He didn't!"
Jinx's cheeks turned bright pink at the realization that Theresa
saw
Remy's proposal.
"Oh, yeah, he did.”
End of Excerpt
Coming Soon
Connor’s Gamble
Connor’s Gamble Excerpt:
A pool of matted dark red blood spread out in a macabre halo beneath the gray hair of Mrs. Abigail Spencer. For one brief moment, Connor gave thanks he hadn't eaten breakfast yet. It wouldn't do to spew chunks all over the poor old woman.
He whirled around at Alyssa's sharp intake of breath right behind him. Damn it, he'd told her to wait outside. Then again, why was he surprised she hadn't listened? The whole time they'd been married, she'd never listened to anything he'd said then, either.
“Connor? Is she . . .?”
“Dead?” Connor knelt beside the old lady, careful not to touch anything. Reaching forward, he pressed his fingertips against the side of her neck, checking for any indication of life. He felt nothing. No pulse. No rise and fall of her chest. “Looks that way.”
“Oh dear,” she whispered. “There's so much blood.”
“Yeah.”
Standing, he took a couple of steps back, reached into his pocket for his cell phone and dialed nine-one-one.
“I need the police at the Wayward Wanderer Inn on I-10. There's been a death . . . That's right . . . No, there are two of us in the room . . . Yes, ma'am, we'll wait right outside the door for the officers to get here. Thank you.”
Within minutes the familiar wail of sirens drew closer, accompanied by flashing lights. Killing the siren, one uniformed and one plainclothes officer alighted from the patrol car and walked toward him. Since all the rooms were located on the ground floor, spectators filled the parking lot and milled about in the now crowded hallways.
Connor spotted several folks from the tour group standing a few doors away, anxiety and concern clear in their expressions. Mrs. Spencer was one of their own. He knew Alyssa would deal with the aftermath of this tragedy, offering compassion and sympathy to each Whispering Pines resident. Who'd share a little sympathy with her, he wondered?
“Lyssa, why don't you talk with your group while I explain to the officers what’s happened.” The only thing that would keep her from dwelling on finding a dead body, especially someone she knew, was to keep her busy. He knew Alyssa well enough that giving her something to focus on, a task to perform, made the most sense. Pale, in obvious shock, she went into immediate helper mode. He wished he could hold her, comfort her through the trauma of what she'd witnessed, but he had to deal with the cops.
The people from Whispering Pines Senior Living Center needed to be handled gently.
Damn. First a bus crash and now one of them is dead. How much more can these old folks take?
The clearing of a throat brought things rushing back to the here and now.
“Officers, I'm Connor Scott. I called in the death.”
Without a word, the uniformed police officer, a tall, rail-thin Hispanic man walked through the door into Abigail Spencer's room. The other stayed next to Connor. Pulling out a notebook and pen, he got right down to business. That's good, Connor thought.
“Mr. Scott, I’m Detective Taglier. How did you know the deceased?” The southern drawl followed by an 'I'm your good buddy' grin immediately grated on Connor's nerves. Hell, he didn't even know this guy and already the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention and he wanted to growl a warning to back the hell off.
“Mrs. Spencer was a passenger on our tour bus. We had an accident yesterday afternoon. Slid on an icy patch on the interstate. Veered off the road.”
“Yeah, I heard about it down at the station. Was she injured in the accident?”
“Nothing serious that I'm aware of.” Connor stood with arms akimbo, looking at the policeman. Something didn't sit right about him even though he was just doing his job.
“She had a bump on her forehead, I think. It bled a bit but she was checked out at the emergency clinic by a physician and cleared. Everybody was, except for the driver.” At the officer's raised brow, Connor continued. “Broken leg, fractured pelvis and a concussion.”
“Ouch.” Jotting down notes, the detective glanced through the open doorway behind Connor.
“The young lady with you, where does she fit into all this? Was she with you when you found Ms. Spencer?”
Connor bristled at his tone but answered. “Her name's Alyssa Scott. She's the Activities Director for the tour group. Works at the senior living center where they're from.” The officer nodded again. He gave an exasperated sigh before continuing. “A few of the other passengers were worried when Abigail, Mrs. Spencer, didn't come to the restaurant for breakfast. They sent Alyssa to check on her. I came with her.”
“Was the door locked when you arrived?” The officer's question was directed at Connor, but his eyes kept straying to Alyssa, and it pissed Connor off.
“No. I knocked several times. When there was no answer, I turned the knob and it opened.”
“Uh, huh.”
The second officer came out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him. After a quick whispered conversation with his partner he strode over to the patrol car, his wide steps quickly eating up the distance.
“So, Mr. Scott, you opened the door and . . .”
Connor turned back to the cop. “I told Alyssa to wait outside and I went in to check on Mrs. Spencer. Immediately upon entering the room I saw feet sticking out from beside the bed. When I got closer, that's how I found her.”
“And Ms. Scott stayed outside the whole time?”
He would like to say yes but knew forensic evidence would show she'd been in the room. “No, she came into the room and saw the body as well.”
“Did you notice anything else, Mr. Scott?”
“Yeah, I noticed blood on the edge of the night stand by the body.”
The officer jotted down a few more notes in his bent, crumpled notebook before continuing.
“Anything else? See anybody hanging around the parking lot?”
“No. I called nine-one-one and waited here for you.”
“Okay. Thanks. I'll need to speak with Ms. Scott, take her statement. Same last name. Any relation to you?”
“Ex-wife.”
“Huh. Amicable I take it.”
Connor quirked a brow, refusing to rise to the subtle baiting question.
Connor knew most of the questions were standard procedure, he'd been around enough cops in his job with the fire department to know it, but he didn't want this guy talking to his wife.
Ex-wife, dammit.
End of Excerpt
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FOR BOOKS BY KATHY IVAN VISIT:
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READING ORDER FOR NEW ORLEANS CONNECTION SERIES
Desperate Choices
Connor's Gamble
Relentless Pursuit
Ultimate Betrayal
Keeping Secrets
OTHER BOOKS BY KATHY IVAN
Second Chances (Destiny's Desire Book #1)
Losing Cassie (Destiny's Desire Book #2)
Copyright
Copyright © 2015 by Kathy Ivan
Formatting by
Ink Lion Books
Cover by Kim Killion and The Killion Group, Inc.
Release date: March 2015
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Table Of Contents
Ultimate Betrayal (New Orleans Connection Series Book #3)
Keeping Secrets (New Orleans Connection Series Book #4)