Murder in Real Time Read online

  He pursed his lips.

  I took that as my cue to skedaddle. “See ya. Try to get some rest.”

  I bounded out the door and down the steps to the sidewalk, ignoring the crowds and unprecedented island traffic. Sunlight twinkled over the little circle of broken glass in my windshield. Someone had shot my car.

  My stomach churned on black coffee, too little sleep and too much wine. I looked over my shoulders at the parade of people, living their lives oblivious to my mini panic attack.

  The curtain inside my living room window dropped shut. I doubted peeping Adrian could see what I saw. His angle was bad, but my view was perfect. I ran a fingertip over the smooth glass outside the splintered hole and cringed. Who would shoot an empty car and why hadn’t I heard the shot? I’d slept on the couch under my front window. I curled shaky fingers. This wasn’t a drive-by shooting. The car was perfect, save for one bullet hole in the windshield on the driver’s side. I stared through the hole. Inside, a matching hole tore through the fabric on my headrest. My heart hammered painfully and instinct insisted I run back to my apartment, barricade the door and embrace agoraphobia. The infuriating, super-stupid part of me insisted if I did that, I’d never know if Sebastian was safe.

  Was he following a strong lead right now? His FBI buddies were here for a reason. I hoped the reason wasn’t new intel about Jimmy the Judge dispatching a hit man to Chincoteague.

  I slid behind the wheel and inhaled the new-car-and-cranberry-air-freshener smell. I exhaled with less chest pain, but now a new problem occurred to me. I couldn’t drive my car around town with a bullet hole in the windshield. Bullet holes were conspicuous and I was undercover. Not to mention, Sebastian’s Range Rover was still impounded. If the police took my car too, I’d have to borrow the pony cart from Mom again, beg the love bus from Sebastian or walk. I drummed my thumbs against the wheel, praying for a moment of brilliance. It hit me.

  Ha! The prayer worked. I jumped out and ran around the back of my car to the trunk. Dad had made an emergency car kit for my birthday. I popped the trunk and dug into the little purple crate. Protection stones. Ashes. Water. Condoms. Aha—duct tape. I ripped off a silver hunk and slapped it over the hole in my windshield. I pressed another piece to the headrest for good measure and dusted my palms together.

  Back in business, I started the engine and scanned the street. Where are you, Sebastian Clark? I sent the telepathic query into the cosmos and waited for the force or a tingling in my nether regions to guide me. Hey, the prayer for brilliance had worked. Telepathy could work, too.

  This time, I got nothing.

  Fine. I didn’t need divine intervention. I scooted lower in my seat to see under the duct tape. If Sebastian was still on the island, I’d find him. There wasn’t much ground to cover. I started with the police station. Three black SUVs and two cruisers. No obnoxious blue-and-white love bus. Next stop, Main Street. I crawled along the busiest blocks, watching fans and ghost hunters spill in and out of my favorite shops.

  Bingo.

  The love bus sat at the curb outside Island Brew. I parked at the open meter beside Puff-n-Stuff, a cigar shop with a questionable back room. The pipe smokers who emerged from there rarely smelled like pipe tobacco as much as incense and pot. I’d spent my high school career trying to get a look in that back room. The owner protected it like the Holy Grail was housed inside. Someday I’d make it a priority to soothe my curiosity. Meanwhile, I slipped onto the sidewalk and crept along the edge of Island Brew, peeking between giant block letters painted on the storefront window. Inside, a little blonde poured coffee and laughed with an older woman I recognized as the shop owner. Sebastian sat against the wall with a stranger. Two manila files rested on the table. Sebastian shook hands with the man, who was wearing a rumpled suit, and accepted a stack of papers from him.

  Was this a sting operation? Who was that man? I looked around for Sebastian’s team, but he appeared to be there alone, aside from the suit.

  The men stood and turned for the front door. Busted. I scrambled out of sight, tripping over my feet to get around the corner. My back scraped against the building’s rough stone exterior. My left ankle stung where my right foot landed on it as I trampled myself getting to safety. I wiggled my sore foot and tried not to think too hard about the degree of unhealthiness in my behavior. Boyfriend stalking wasn’t something I normally condoned, but this was different.

  See? Denial won.

  Sebastian moved toward the love bus, and I baby-stepped farther into the narrow alley between shops. A huge smile split my face. Maybe I could be an agent, if I wanted to, which I didn’t. Still, I impressed myself. Who knew I was so vigilant and stealthy? I licked a fingertip and dragged it through the air in a score-one-for-me tally mark.

  “Ah!” I squeaked and slapped a hand over my mouth. Adrian leaned motionless against the opposite alley wall, watching me mark my awesomeness in the air. Jeez.

  He pried his body off the wall with a little cringe and closed the distance between us. “What are you doing?”

  I huffed and crossed my arms. “Meeting a client. I already told you once. Did you forget your meds? Are you feeling confused?” Turning the argument around was a great debate strategy, unless you’d had five million arguments with the same person and he knew what you were doing.

  “I’m taking Extra Strength TYLENOL not LSD.” He walked to the end of the alley, looking both ways, and then returned to me. “You’re following Sebastian.”

  I let out a long sigh of irritation. “Yes, Mr. Nosy. I’m worried Todd was right about that reporter following me and that Sebastian might be following him.”

  “Why do you care? That’s a good thing.”

  “Not necessarily. If that guy was sent by Jimmy the Judge to find Sebastian, then I don’t want Sebastian following him.”

  Adrian rolled his eyes. “That’s his job, Patience. I don’t know if you’ve seen the guy lately, but your boyfriend’s kind of scary. Some dude posing as a reporter isn’t much of a match for Seb. Anyway, Todd’s always been a drama queen. I’m sure it’s nothing. You’re getting your panties all knotted for no reason. Let Sebastian handle this and let’s go home.”

  I pulled my chin back and arched a brow. “Excuse me? Don’t talk about my panties. Also, I don’t overreact. Todd might be a drama queen, but I’m not. I’m following my leads. Todd says this guy’s shady, so I’m checking him out. If he’s just a reporter, or a fan posing as a reporter, fine. If he’s dangerous, I want to know. Sebastian’s always saying Jimmy the Judge would come at me to get to Sebastian if he knew where we were.”

  Adrian shook his head. “Well, you aren’t following the reporter. You’re stalking your boyfriend.”

  “Am not. Whatever. You know what the problem is? You don’t understand logic.” He also didn’t have all the facts. I grabbed his sleeve and pulled him close for a whisper. “Someone shot my car this morning. Maybe all this is about me. Maybe Jimmy’s taunting Sebastian, and Rick and Anna were in the wrong place at the wrong time. You said Sebastian left five minutes before I got up, and I left ten minutes later, so in that little timeframe, someone marched right over to my car in broad daylight and shot it. Whoever did that knew Sebastian was gone and I was home.” My voice cracked.

  Adrian’s eyes bugged out. He grabbed my elbow. “Someone shot your car today? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I slapped his hand, but he didn’t let me go. “I am telling you. I don’t understand your protest. You were the one who wanted to look into this.”

  “I wanted to look into Rick and Anna’s deaths, not get you involved in some mob guy’s vendetta against your boyfriend.” He towed me out of the alley by my arm. My feet twisted and I stumbled behind him. When we were fully exposed on the sidewalk, he stopped. Several cars down the block sat my Prius with a six-foot-two guard dog leaning against the hood. The duct tape from my wi
ndow stuck to his thumb.

  I snatched my arm free and straightened my spine. “Traitor. You saw him there when you looked a minute ago, didn’t you?”

  “Yep.” Adrian walked to Sebastian’s side and angled his back to me. I dawdled on the sidewalk.

  “Where’s your Jeep?” Sebastian watched me as he spoke to Adrian.

  “In the alley.”

  Sebastian nodded. “Take her home. I’m taking the car to impound. This is officially a crime scene.” He huffed and shoved black Ray-Bans over his cool brown eyes.

  I sighed and tossed my keys to him. He opened the door and ran fingertips over the duct tape on my headrest before ripping the tape off. A string of words harsh enough to make Coach Peters blush rumbled out on one long breath. His blank agent face contradicted the wild frustration in his words. The momentary untamped emotion sent tingles over my skin. Sebastian was mad and I was the reason. Again. As if I had anything to do with what happened to my car. I was the obvious victim here.

  Adrian returned to my side. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

  Sebastian folded his body behind the wheel of my new car and powered down the window. “This crime scene is ruined. You stuck tape over the holes.” He glared through my windshield.

  I narrowed my eyes and sucked in my cheeks, waiting for my car to disappear around the corner. I whacked Adrian. “Fink.”

  “Ow!” Adrian rubbed his arm where I slapped him. “I’m trying to help you.”

  “Are not. You’re trying to make me crazy. Why are you driving me home? He could’ve at least offered me the keys to the bus.”

  “Yeah, right. So you could follow him some more?” Adrian tossed his keys into the air and caught them in one hand. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your track record with cars sucks. Anyway, my ride is so much sweeter than that love bus.”

  “Stop talking like that.”

  Adrian lifted his foot behind us and kicked my bottom.

  “Stop.” I shoved him. “I swear. You’re twelve.”

  “You’re twelve.” He kicked me again.

  “Stop it.” I cracked a smile. Adrian was impossible, but I couldn’t stay mad in his presence, which said a lot because I could hold a grudge like a champion.

  He flipped the hood on my sweatshirt. “You look like you did in high school wearing this.” He tugged the hem. “You wore this hoodie to all my games. Remember?”

  I remembered. “Well, for old time’s sake, can I drive your sweet ride?”

  Adrian chuckled darkly. “Baby, you never have to ask for my sweet ride. Ow!”

  “Don’t call me baby. Give me the keys.”

  “Mean.”

  “Dork.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Adrian shoved me across the threshold at his mom’s tanning salon. “Mom?”

  “What are we doing here?” I asked for the tenth time. “I want to wait in the car.”

  He caught my wrist as I spun to leave. “I told you. I need to drop something off.” He tapped the little silver bell on the counter.

  “I’m coming!” His mom hustled to the counter with an exasperated expression. “I heard you the first time. You don’t have to yell. That’s what the bell’s for.” Her attention moved to me. “What’s this?”

  Adrian swung the keys to his Jeep around one finger, smiling. He whistled a tune I didn’t know, but it sounded a lot like neener-neener.

  His mom fluffed her big pageant hair and moved to my side. “Why, hello, Patience. What a lovely surprise. What brings you here?”

  What brought me here? Adrian Davis the lying liar who lied, that’s what. He’d lured me to the salon under the guise of “dropping something off,” but his hands were clearly empty. I bit my tongue.

  Adrian rocked on his heels and his smile widened. “I’m dropping her off.”

  I clutched his sleeve. “No. Adrian.” I curved my lips into a begging frown and widened my eyes, trying to look as pitiful as possible.

  He kissed my head. “Sorry, sugar, but you can’t be trusted and I need to meet with the mayor to finalize some last-minute campaign issues. Having his endorsement is huge. I can’t miss this meeting, but I can’t take you with me, and I can’t leave you alone.”

  I fumed, running through possible escape scenarios and weighing how much I truly cared if his mother hated me or not.

  Mrs. Davis pulled the band from my ponytail and ran her fingers through the thick of my hair. “Good thing curlers set better on dirty hair.”

  I jumped and ground my teeth. “Good thing.” I gave Adrian a telepathic you-will-pay message.

  “How long do you need, Ma?” Adrian rubbed his mouth with one hand, nearly choking on his laughter.

  Why did I want her approval? She was mean. We always argued. That was our thing. A couple of near-death experiences this summer and suddenly I felt compelled to make nice with everyone. What was wrong with me?

  She sighed. “Oh boy. I don’t know. Give me two hours at least.”

  “Two hours!” I lunged for Adrian as he ducked out the door. My head snapped back when Mrs. Davis didn’t let go of my dirty hair.

  “Come on. We’ve got lots to do. Let’s start with a spray tan while your curlers set.”

  Oh my Lord in Heaven, kill me now. I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, but lightning didn’t save me. My heart drooped. Death by electrocution sounded far superior to what I faced. Beyond the front room, a line of beauty shop chairs stood like dance hall girls before a wall of mirrors. The mirrors were illuminated by a thousand lights. The temperature was at least ten degrees warmer than it had been in the reception area. I tugged the neckline of my sweatshirt.

  “I don’t know, Mrs. Davis. I’m feeling a little nauseous. I should go home and eat something. I can come back later.” Or never. Whichever.

  “Nonsense.” She pushed me backward into a big pink swivel chair and sprayed a cloud of perfumed droplets over my face, pumping the bottle wildly with her dimpled fingers.

  I coughed and waved my hands over my face. “What is that?” My mom would have a stroke and keel over dead if she walked into a room with so much product of any kind in the air. Her perfect skin would turn gray and sag on contact with Mrs. Davis’ beauty shop of horrors.

  She clucked her tongue. “It’s conditioner, so I can comb through this mess. Surely you know what conditioner is.” She grappled with the brush in my newly wetted mane. “Or maybe not.”

  “Gah.” I opened and shut my mouth, tasting the conditioner with every breath. “Ow!” I grabbed my head as she brushed the strands flat against my ears and hefted another can into the air. “What’s that?”

  She rolled her eyes and slapped a Cosmo on my lap. “Read this. It’ll keep your mind busy. Take the ‘Are You A Hot Lover Quiz’ on page fifty-seven. I think it’s bull, but maybe you’ll score higher, considering all your practice lately.”

  I shut my eyes hard enough to cause a headache and counted to two hundred. I’d have counted higher, but by then it was time for my spray tan.

  * * *

  One hour and forty-seven minutes later, the little shop bell dinged. Mrs. Davis went to greet the newcomer while I held my breath and zipped an electric-blue sequined spandex mini-dress over pasties and Spanx. The Spanx were made for a toddler. Everything I had stung from lack of circulation, except the girls up top who were puckered and fighting off the pasties I’d glued over them. Adrian was never sleeping in my bed again. He could take his injured heinie somewhere else for comfort. I wobbled out of the dressing area on five-inch stilettos. Lights from the mirrored wall reflected off my dress, throwing rainbows over everything in sight. I blinked through the spots in my vision. Giant spider legs came into view with each movement of my head. Mrs. Davis had glued false eyelashes with rhinestone tips on my eyelids. The lashes were so heavy
it was a wonder I could open my eyes, let alone see where I was going. The thick liquid eyeliner made me look like a living piece of anime.

  I inched my way toward the front, hoping Adrian was back so I could kill him. My natural gait was truncated by layers of elastic at mid-thigh. Diamond-shaped cutouts in the dress at my breasts and tummy were nothing compared to the enormous V down my back from shoulders to tailbone, barely concealing my low-rise thigh squashers. The front diamonds let in enough cool air to keep the girls suffering under their bandages. I stopped at the last mirror and gaped. My hair needed its own zip code. I looked as if I belonged in a boxing ring, carrying a big number over my head. Worst makeover in the history of makeovers.

  Voices carried through the door separating the back room from the front. Adrian chuckled. I pressed my glossy red lips into a line. Just the man I wanted to see.

  I shoved the door open, and a blinding flash stopped me in my tracks. A round of giggles joined Adrian’s laughter. Claire and Fargas stood beside Mrs. Davis at the door. Adrian tapped on his phone screen.

  “Aw, honey.” Claire rubbed my arms. “You okay?”

  “No. I am not.”

  Adrian hugged his mom. “Thanks for keeping an eye on our girl. I sent a picture to Sebastian. He’ll thank you for this one, Ma. She looks great.”

  Mrs. Davis patted Adrian’s cheek and beamed with pride. How did one person look at something and see beauty, while another person looking at the exact same thing, at the exact same moment, saw a train wreck of sequins and shame?

  Claire touched my hair and turned to Mrs. Davis with a fierce look in her eye. “Did you bleach her hair?”

  “Not yet. This is a rinse. I can make it permanent anytime, though. Let me know.” She winked.

  I tiptoed to the door, careful not to slide on the silver sticks propping my shoes at a full tilt. Another flash lit the room. Adrian laughed. “I love the back of this dress. What do you have on under there?” He whistled long and low.

  Fargas held the door for us.

  I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eye. “You don’t want to know.”