Corpse in the Crystal Ball (24 page)

I rounded the corner and ended up in the kitchen once more. Walking over to the counter, I was about to reach for the phone when Morty pounced, landing on the countertop from out of nowhere—no bow tie in sight.

“Eeeek! Darnit, Morty, don’t scare me like that. Unlike you, I don’t have nine lives.” I took a minute to catch my breath and then noticed the piece of paper he stood on.

A note.

I shooed him off and read what it said.

“Well, Morty, looks like it’s just you and me.” I glanced up, but Morty was gone. Scratch that. Morty wasn’t about to waste his night of freedom, either. “Have fun, you old rascal,” I called out softly to wherever he was.

After raiding the refrigerator for leftovers, I wandered upstairs into one of my favorite places in this old house. The bathroom. The freestanding claw-footed tub was gilded in gold. Next to that stood a pedestal sink and toilet that were hand-painted with various scrolls, florals, and sea figures. The sink sat in front of a huge gilded mirror with gaslights on either side. The walls were made of heavy wood
paneling and all the fixtures were made of brass. Small pieces of furniture like an old-fashioned shaving stand, small table, and chair that constituted the sitting area finished off the room.

My own perfect oasis.

I stripped off my clothes and turned on the water in the tub and looked out the huge window, hoping to have a chance to take my bath if the storm let up. The window overlooked my backyard, which butted up next to the woods. I hadn’t bothered to add any curtains because no one could see me except maybe the deer that occasionally wandered into my yard.

I loved looking out at the stars and the moon. Tonight, though, there were swirling storm clouds with loud booms of thunder that rattled the windows. Flashes of lightning were coming much closer together now, lighting up the sky as they streaked diagonally from cloud to ground. I shut off the water and sighed. So much for my relaxing bath.

I loved storms, but something about this one made me nervous. The lights flickered and then turned off, sending the room into inky blackness. Great. Just what I needed. A power outage. Feeling my way along the sink, I opened the drawer and found some matches. I struck one and, after the tip burst into an orange-yellow flame, I lit the candles on the windowsill by the tub, and looked longingly at the steaming hot water I’d give anything to sink into.

When the lightning didn’t let up, I grudgingly pulled the plug to let the water out. My muscles felt like rubber bands, and I nearly dozed off while standing up, so I decided it was time to call it a night and go to bed. Granny was right. I was exhausted. I was reaching for my robe when I heard a noise from downstairs.

I froze. Something told me it wasn’t Morty. He never made noise. I shimmied into my terry-cloth robe, grabbed a flashlight from the linen closet, blew out the candles, and then tiptoed to the top of the stairs.

“Morty? Is that you, boy?”

No answer and no sign of him. I bit my bottom lip. If there was trouble, Morty would be right by my side, not letting me go down the stairs. Then again, what if he wasn’t even in the house? After all, it was his night of freedom, too. No Granny, no bow tie, no night-nights. He was probably in the next town over by now.

Looked like I was on my own.

I ran to Granny’s room and grabbed her cane. Granny Gert was fit as a fiddle. The cane had been my grandfather’s, and right now I was so glad she was a hoarder. Making my way quietly down the stairs in my fuzzy slippers, robe, and little else, I held the flashlight in one hand and the cane in the other.

I searched through all the rooms but didn’t see anyone or anything amiss. I checked the lights downstairs, but they were off as well. I lit a couple candles in the kitchen and glanced out the window. I sucked in a breath. Something had just dashed across the yard. Like before, I was positive it wasn’t an animal. Someone was out there. Watching me. Waiting for me.

Only this time I was alone.

I grabbed the phone, but the phone was out as well. Snatching my cell phone, I hit number two on my speed dial without even thinking.

“Stone here,” said a sleepy voice.

“Oh, thank God, Mitch.”

“Sunny?” The voice sounded more alert now. “Is something wrong?”

“Can you come over?”

A pause filled the line. “You want me to come over? Now?” Another pause. “Why?”

“I think someone’s outside.”

“Oh.”

Was that disappointment I heard? I shook the fuzz from my muddled brain. I had to have been hearing things.

“Wait,” he continued, “you think someone’s outside your house right now?”

“Yes. I saw something dart across the lawn. And I heard a noise.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t an animal? And there’s lots of noise right now. There
is
a thunderstorm going on, you know.”

“It’s not an animal, and it’s not the storm. Will you just come over …please?”

Another pause filled the line.

I sighed. “Never mind, I’ll—”

“I didn’t say no, Tink. Sit tight. I’m on my way.” He disconnected before I could say another word.

I darted upstairs and had just changed into a tank top and my Looney Tunes pajama bottoms, which is what I slept in this time of year, when I heard a car door outside, followed by a knock on my front door. I peeked out the side window and let out a sigh of relief, jogging down to answer the door.

“Come in, please.” I pulled the door open wide and then closed it after the detective ducked inside.

His sweatshirt was already damp, and he shook the drops out of the thick strands of his jet-black hair. “Thanks.” He
pulled his sweatshirt off and hung it on the coat tree, revealing the white tank top he had on. His shoulders and arms were thick and muscled and tan. How was he so tan in springtime?

I looked like paste.

“You okay, Tink?” his deep voice rumbled. “You having another spell? Because you look like you’re in shock.”

I snapped my slack jaw closed. “I’m fine. Just frazzled and a little scared,” I admitted.

His face softened. “You stay here. Let me check around outside.”

I saw the flash of a gun in his sweatpants. “Hey.” I grabbed his forearm. “I thought you had to turn in your badge and gun.”

He looked back at me, and his lips twisted a bit. “I did. Let’s just call this my backup.” He winked, then snatched my flashlight and an umbrella, darting outside in just his sweats, a tank top, and black rubber sandals.

I crossed my arms and peeked out the window. Mitch searched the entire outside of my house as thunder and lightning boomed and flashed around him.

Granny would have a fit if she were here. She hated thunderstorms and never let me step foot outside, talk on the phone, or turn on the water when lightning was around. And here I’d practically pushed Mitch out the door all in the name of protecting me. I couldn’t help it. I was scared senseless.

Minutes later, Mitch reemerged. I opened the door before he reached it, and he ducked back inside. “It’s coming down in buckets out there.”

“I know.” I shifted my weight from bare foot to bare foot. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He searched my face. “You had a right to be scared. There were footprints out there.”

Adrenaline shot through me. I was terrified, yet I still blew out a breath of relief. “So I’m not going crazy, then?” I really had feared I was losing my mind.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” His lips twitched.

I smacked him on the shoulder, then took the umbrella from him. “Did you lose power?”

“No.” He frowned. “Did you?”

“Yes. I thought everyone in town did.”

He paced, rubbing the back of his neck, then stopped and stared at me. “Where’s your fuse box?”

“In the basement.” I scrunched up my face at him. “Why?”

He tweaked my nose and grabbed the flashlight again. “Show me. I’ve got a hunch.” He started to walk toward the stairs to the basement, then stopped abruptly. “Wait. Where’s the Demonator?”

“You mean Morty?” I rolled my eyes. “He’s enjoying his break from the Grannyator.”

This time
he
scrunched up his face. “Come again?”

“Never mind, just follow me. You’ll be fine, you big scaredy-cat.”

“It’s not your hide he aims to claw to death,” Mitch grumbled, but followed me nonetheless.

I led the way down the stairs and to the fuse box. Mitch opened it, and scanned the inside, then shook his head. “Just as I figured.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“You didn’t lose power. The master fuse has been turned off.”

“I don’t get it. What does that mean?”

He looked me square in the eye with a concerned and angry expression. “It means that someone was inside your house. You should call the police.”

“I already did,” I said. “I called you.” I poked him in the chest.

“Sunny, this is serious. I—”

“Just say you’ll stay with me, Mitch.” I rubbed the chill from my arms.

“Okay.” He turned the switch back on, then faced me and pulled me into a rare hug, repeating softly, “Okay.”

I hadn’t realized how tense I was and forcibly relaxed my shoulders. “Okay, then.” I hugged him back tight, then stepped away. “Let’s go. We could both use some sleep.”

“I’m not holding out hope of getting any shut-eye.”

“Oh, please.” I led the way up the stairs. “Unless you’re a bed hog, you’ll be fine.”

I heard him miss a step from behind me. “Bed? Together? I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You have to have a spare room. This house is huge.”

I glanced over my shoulder and met his gaze, finding the courage to admit my fears. “We’re adults, Mitch, and I’m scared. We both need some serious sleep. Unless you think you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” I added to make light of the situation.

He smirked. “I seem to remember you were the one who was all over me last time.”

“I was asleep, and my car’s really small.” I rolled my
eyes. “Trust me. There’s no chance of that happening again.” I turned around and headed up the stairs. I didn’t say another word until I had locked up, blown out the candles, and led the way up to my bedroom. I acted like it was no big deal. I was scared and just wanted to feel safe. That was all.

“Bathroom is down the hall, and there are towels in the linen closet. You can go first. I’ll just get, the um, bed ready.”

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat and ducked into the bathroom.

A whiff of his manliness engulfed my senses—aftershave, soap, and something pure Mitch. I could get used to this. I patted my cheeks and ordered my wits to return to my brain immediately. He would be back any minute, and getting caught acting like a dim-witted loon simply would not do.

I scrambled around the room and picked up my discarded items, shoving them in my closet. He emerged in record time, so I smiled awkwardly as I passed him, and then darted into the bathroom myself. I only took about five minutes to brush my teeth and prepare for bed.

Knowing I couldn’t stall any longer, I took a breath and walked out of the bathroom as though having a man in my bed was something I did often. Piece of cake, no big deal, easy-peasy, blah blah blah.

Only, it wasn’t anything of the sort, and I was quickly spiraling into a major freak-out. I almost preferred being scared of what was outside, because how he made me feel on the inside was a lot more terrifying.

He’d already turned the lights off, but the storm had stopped and a bright moon had emerged in a miraculously clear and brilliant starry sky. I took a moment to admire the
view. “Wow,” I said in barely more than a whisper as I stared at the night sky. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

No answer.

I turned to look at him. He lay sprawled out on half of the massive four-poster, king-sized bed with his bare upper torso exposed. “Wow.” He really was a beautiful man when he wasn’t scowling.

I slid into bed beside him, careful not to move too much as he was already fast asleep. He looked so peaceful in his sleep. The normal stress and torment missing from his face, the tension gone from his shoulders. It must be exhausting, carrying the weight of the world around.

I couldn’t help it; I peeked under the covers and admitted a small sliver of disappointment sliced through me. He might have shed his tank top, but his sweatpants were still firmly in place. Something told me sleep would be a long time coming.

My nose itched. Like something was tickling it. I rubbed my face back and forth trying to scratch it, but it just tickled more. I snuggled in deeper.
Morty
, I thought, blinking my eyes open, and then jerking my head up.
Not Morty …Mitch.

And I was snuggled up next to him with my face lying on his chest!

I lifted my head and stared into knowing, twinkling, smirking eyes that weren’t doing a thing to move me.

“Refresh my memory. Weren’t we supposed to keep our hands to ourselves?” he asked.

“You were warm, and I was cold, and, and …” I groaned, mortified. “You’re hilarious, you know that.”

“I’m not trying to be funny.” He shrugged. “I’m just presenting the evidence as I see it.”

“You are insufferable. Has anyone ever told you that?” I rolled away from him.

He chuckled.

“Help yourself to the shower. I’ll start the coffee.” I scurried out of the room without looking back but snagged my robe along the way. PJ bottoms and tank tops in the light of day was something I couldn’t handle at the moment.

Ten minutes later I’d not only made coffee, I had made bacon and eggs and bagels. Mitch came downstairs fully dressed in his sweat suit, looking refreshed.