A Geek Girl's Guide to Justice (The Geek Girl Mysteries) Read online

  She swung her gaze to him. “We’re just getting started. Actually, the pregnancy came at a perfect time and expanded our thesis. We’ve had the opportunity to explore and track the impact of my changing body and hormone levels on intimacy.”

  Nate’s smile overtook his face. He glanced my way with pinched eyes and round cheeks. “Well? Do tell. Inquiring minds, you know.”

  I kicked his giant foot under the table. “Gross.”

  Bree cocked her head to the side. “It’s not gross at all actually, it’s science and it’s life. You should read the paper when we finish. We hope to get it published in next year’s University Journal.”

  Hopefully without pictures.

  A waitress arrived with food. She set an avocado and tomato croissant sandwich in front of me. Nate received a steak and Bree had pasta smothered in Alfredo sauce. “Will there be anything else?”

  I was tempted to ask her why she thought I’d want this for lunch when Bree was having Alfredo, but I shook my head instead.

  The waitress retreated and Bree dug in.

  Nate smiled. “Bree ordered for you.”

  “I wanted lasagna.”

  She stuffed a bite of thick noodles between her lips. “You were late.”

  I chopped the croissant in half and took a bite before Bree got started on my tardiness.

  She ate smugly for several minutes before launching into the real reason we were there. “I’ve made an appointment to do a walk-through at the lodge on Congress Lake. They have an opening in about two weeks, but I want to see the place before I settle.”

  “Congress Lake?” I made a face. “That place is a total nature reserve. It’s practically a spa retreat. Don’t you think it might be a bit of an overkill for a second baby shower?”

  She went rigid. “It’s not over the top. It’s normal. I considered this place, but apparently they’re booked for at least a year. I can’t be picky when we’ve waited until the last minute like this.”

  I pulled my hands onto my lap and counted silently to ten. “What’s wrong with your house? Or Grandma’s or Mom’s?”

  “Or Mia’s,” Nate added.

  “No,” I corrected. “No. No.”

  Bree’s face darkened. “Congress Lake is beautiful. What’s wrong with beautiful?”

  “They have a paddle boat shaped like a swan.”

  She dropped her fork against her plate with a clatter. “I only said I want to walk through it. What’s the big deal?”

  For starters, she’d spent three months following her pregnancy announcement insisting she didn’t want a baby shower because she already had a shower for her toddler, Gwen. Then, last month, she had a change of heart and suddenly it became my duty to create a massive Noah’s Ark shower of biblical proportions in less time than it took me to plan my outfit. I had one month, and she had insanely specific instructions on how she wanted it done. She needed a coordinator but insisted it was more meaningful coming from me.

  Frustrated as I was, it comforted me to know her husband had it worse. Tom had to live with her and he was in charge of her smaller gender-reveal party. Which was to say he knew the gender of their new baby and she didn’t. Not an easy secret to keep from a hormonal version of my high-strung doppelgänger.

  Whatever happened, the shower would be over in two short weeks and I would be free. The thought made me want to spread my arms and twirl.

  She grabbed the fork and stabbed it into her meal with a crazed look. “This is probably the last pregnancy I will ever have, so I want to make it special. Is there something wrong with wanting to make big memories?”

  “No.” Note to self, keep my trap shut until this baby came or Bree was likely to kill me in my sleep and claim insanity due to hormonal imbalance. She’d probably get away with it. Anyone could see she was nuts. Tom could write a paper about the whole thing and they would profit from my untimely death.

  She pressed her belly against the table and leaned in. “Good. Now, don’t forget my gender-reveal party.”

  “Your what?” Nate asked.

  I’d already ranted about this. Nate was a pot-stirrer.

  Bree took the bait. “Tom’s throwing me a party with virgin drinks and themed foods. We’re going to play games and eat and share memories of my first pregnancy. The bakery is preparing a special cake. When we cut into it, I’ll know if it’s a boy or a girl by the color of the center. Pink cake for a girl, blue for a boy.”

  “Blue cake?” As if this might keep him away. “What flavor?”

  “Vanilla. They add food coloring.”

  “How’s Tom kept it a secret so long?” he asked. “What about ultrasounds?”

  “We’ve had three ultrasounds. I asked the doctor to hide the screen from me. No big deal.”

  I marveled. Her doctor must be a wizard because no one else had ever been able to hide anything from Bree.

  “Isn’t three ultrasounds a lot?” Nate continued. “My sister only got one. I remember because she was pissed they couldn’t tell her the gender and she had to buy everything in yellow.”

  I tensed. “Is everything okay?”

  She nodded fiercely. “Tom says the doctor’s just being thorough.”

  Nate mulled it over. “Can Fifi come?”

  Bree touched her chest with one set of fingertips and her voice went soft. “Aw. Of course. Tom will get you the information.”

  Nate went back to sawing his steak into giant pieces. I took a big bite of the croissant to keep from whacking him with it.

  “So.” Bree took a small bite of her delicious-smelling lunch. “How are things with Fifi, Nate?”

  “Good. She’s amazing. Smart. Funny. She looks like Barbie.” He smiled obnoxiously wide. “I always loved Barbie.”

  Bree pointed her fork at me. “Mia hates Barbie.”

  “Do not.” I rubbed my brows to stop a feminine rant about unfair female stereotypes. Besides, “Fifi’s much better than Barbie.” Fifi was real. She was one of the few people I considered a friend. I didn’t have many, so when I found one, I protected them fiercely, if only from accusations of being a brainless impossibly figured toy.

  Bree watched me, expectantly.

  “What?” I looked to Nate for a clue.

  Bree huffed. “I asked how you and Mr. Sexy Marshal Pants are doing.”

  “Oh. We’re fine.” I shoved a chunk of croissant into my mouth.

  She shook her head at me. “I’m going to need more than that.”

  I chewed and swallowed slowly. “Like what? We’re fine. Fine is good.”

  “No. Good is good. Fine is lackluster and noncommittal. Are you not committed to him or to your answer? Hopefully the answer because Jake’s...”

  I wiped my mouth with a soft linen napkin and checked for the nearest exit. I felt a sex lecture coming. As in, do it. Now. “Please don’t finish that thought.”

  She rearranged her expression into something reminiscent of the cat who ate the canary. “I was going to say he’s a nice catch.”

  Sure she was. I rubbed one shoulder. My pain in the neck was back. “I haven’t caught him. Jake has free will. He’s free to go.”

  “Or stay,” she added. “Do you want him to go?”

  “No.” Heat rose in my cheeks. I answered too quickly and Bree jerked one eyebrow into her hairline. “Can we please talk about you?”

  “One more question and I’ll stop.”

  I dropped my head forward.

  “How’s the sex?”

  Nate swung an elbow over the back of his chair and turned to face me. “This is why I crashed your lunch. You two are always so much fun.”

  “I hate you,” I muttered to Nate.

  I lifted my head and made my most congenial face for Bree. “Jake’s been gone for two months. We
only went out a handful of times before he left for his undercover assignment. Nothing’s official and we barely see each other. What do you think?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. Besides, it’s my job.”

  I wasn’t sure if she thought it was her job as my sister or as a researcher. Probably both.

  “You should take him to the family cabin for a getaway weekend. You could both use the break, and it will give you a chance to reconnect emotionally. Be still for five minutes. Maybe you can find your Zen or at least work out some of that tension.” She pointed to my shoulder.

  I dropped my hand to my lap and bunched the awaiting napkin like a stress ball. A weekend alone with Jake sounded like a fairy tale. Neither of us could walk away from everything for that long. It was hard enough to find a few hours for a date.

  Nate wiped his mouth and kicked back, having demolished his steak. “Sounds like a plan, just don’t forget about our appointments.”

  Case in point. I couldn’t get away. I had too much to do. “I’m on it. Don’t worry.”

  “What appointments?” Bree asked.

  Nate launched into a lengthy explanation while I sucked my water glass dry. “We’re interviewing project managers. We have a plan to double our online users in the next eighteen months, but we need more resources than myself and a woman with three jobs.”

  I set the empty glass back on the table. “We want to check the pulse of our current subscribers, so we’re looking for a group to issue surveys for us and analyze the information collected. We’re looking at everything from new user adaptability to the interface, color schemes, font—any aspect that could draw a player in or leave them unimpressed. Some test groups are probably in order.”

  “Interesting.” Bree pretended to care.

  I appreciated the gesture.

  “Aren’t those the sorts of things you love to do? You’ve handled them for Grandma since forever.”

  I poked my boring sandwich with a fork and regret. “I know. I want to.” I desperately wanted to lose myself in making REIGN our own, but, “I don’t have the time to give any of those things the attention they deserve, and I don’t want to cut the game short because I selfishly insisted on handling everything myself. Now, let’s discuss your list of shower demands.” I dropped the utensil and dug a printout from my purse. “This is my most current copy.” I smoothed the paper on the table.

  She dragged it closer with her pointer finger. “This is everything. We just need to confirm the venue.”

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose beneath my glasses. “I’m not doing all the things on this list.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s too much.”

  “Money?”

  “No. Look.” I tapped the line I’d highlighted and written “no way” next to. “I’m not getting you a pair of doves to release or renting fancy china. You’re getting whatever plates come with the venue and no wildlife. Also, you need to cut this guest list in half.”

  “Those are my friends.”

  “You have one hundred female friends?”

  “Mmm-hmm.” She nodded, tight-lipped.

  “Cut it to thirty, and I need the contact info today so I can get invites in the mail. We’ll name Congress Lake as the venue, but you have to cut the list.”

  “Seventy-five.” She pushed the paper back. “And we can change the doves to butterflies. Two for each guest to release.”

  I sighed. Bree’s popularity had only grown since high school. Not only did she keep in touch with all her friends since elementary school, she belonged to women’s groups all over town. Book clubs, yoga, historical societies and mommy groups galore. She volunteered everywhere, spent oodles of hours at the college researching with Tom, and the women in his family would want to attend, too. When our family trees combined, we’d had an instant forest.

  I planted a palm on the paper before it reached my edge of the table. “Fifty guests. I’ll think about the butterflies. I don’t even know where I can get one hundred butterflies or how the heck I could distribute them in pairs. Some people won’t want bugs on them.”

  “Sixty guests. You’ll need one hundred and twenty butterflies. I’ll poll my friends to see if anyone else is afraid of butterflies.”

  “I’m not afraid of them, but I don’t want them touching me.”

  “Story of your life.” She smiled. “I would’ve agreed to fifty guests.”

  “I would’ve allowed seventy-five.”

  “Hey,” Nate interjected. “You didn’t tell us why you were late for lunch.”

  I took a moment to decide. Truth or a lie? Did I have a reason to lie? Why did the truth feel like I’d done something wrong? “I’ll tell you if you look into butterfly vendors for me and forward the pertinent details. I don’t have time to research that.”

  He lifted his little finger for a pinky promise.

  I hooked my finger to his. “I went to visit Angelina Weiss. She works up the street at Happy Farmer, so it seemed like the perfect opportunity.”

  Nate released my pinky and passed a folded ten-dollar bill to Bree.

  “Told ya,” she gloated.

  Nate slumped. “I thought you were hung up at Horseshoe Falls, nosing around the scene of the crime.”

  “I did that earlier.”

  Bree laughed. “I told him you’d exhausted that by now. I mean, it’s been nearly twelve hours since the murder. I’d wagered you were out harassing friends and family of the deceased. I won.”

  “Next time,” Nate warned.

  “Bring it.”

  I puffed air into side-swept bangs. “I wasn’t harassing anyone. I stopped by to see if she’d heard the news and to tell her I was sorry for her loss.”

  “You said that?” Bree asked. “You told her you were sorry for her loss?”

  “Sort of.”

  She waited.

  I squirmed. “I might’ve asked her where she was last night at the time of the murder.”

  Nate barked a laugh that startled several women at nearby tables. “What’d she say?”

  “She said she was at work.”

  “Can anyone confirm that?” he asked.

  “No, but they track their employees. I could probably hack in and see for myself.”

  Bree widened her eyes. “Really? Do you think she was lying?”

  I had mixed feelings on the topic. “I’m not great at interpreting body language.”

  “But?”

  “But she didn’t seem surprised. She said everyone hated him, which goes against everything I’ve read. I need to talk to more of his acquaintances and business contacts to know if she thinks that because she’s projecting her feelings or if the internet is being fed filtered information. Both are plausible.”

  Nate tapped his thumbs on the table’s edge. “Need any help?”

  “No. I can probably get the information with a few phone calls or emails. There’s always a chance she’d already heard the news and pretended she hadn’t, or maybe they’ve been divorced long enough that she didn’t care. Though, she did seem truly sorry to hear he was gone. Then again, there’s an insurance policy in her name and that’s motive.” I worked the napkin in my fingers.

  “What else?” Nate prodded.

  “She didn’t seem surprised to hear he was in a lake. That’s weird, right? Drowning when he was afraid of the water? I’d expected that to raise questions from her.”

  “Maybe she was in shock,” Nate said.

  Bree leaned in conspiratorially. “Or she was the one who held him under.”

  The waiter materialized at my side and I nearly wet myself. “Can I get you anything else?”

  “Nope.” I gasped.

  He dropped the check beside my hand and left.

/>   “Thanks for lunch,” Bree said.

  “You’re welcome. I’ll deduct it from the cost of your insanity shower.”

  “Ha.”

  I covered my half-eaten sandwich with the napkin. “Next time I buy lunch here, I want lasagna.”

  I slid my credit card from my wallet and placed it inside the folder with our bill. “Now you’ve done it. I can’t think of anything besides what happened last night. Was Dante a hero or a villain?”

  Bree slid a gloss stick over her lips. “If you poke around, let Nate help you this time. I’m too close to my due date to get another call telling me you’ve been abducted. That shtick is getting old. You don’t want to be the reason your niece or nephew is born prematurely. Those babies have a much harder time in life. Don’t put that on your conscience.”

  “I’m not getting involved,” I repeated. “I might ask a few more questions, but that’s all. Grandma needs the closure.”

  Bree dropped the gloss back into her purse. “Good. Don’t forget about my shower.”

  As if I could.

  Chapter Six

  I stopped at home long enough to change into my Queen Guinevere costume and leave for the Renaissance Faire. The early weeks of Ren Faire season were always an exercise in controlled chaos as vendors found their groove, but our family had it down to a science. Grandma had been part of the local Faire for almost fifty years, so she was a pro. Bree and I had followed in Mom’s footsteps, growing up at Grandma’s ankles, trading her holistic beauty products for cash and enjoying the culture. Basically, Ren Faires were our jam.

  We each had our role to play. As the face of Grandma’s company, I was Guinevere, Queen of Camelot. Mom and Dad helped wherever they were needed, wore thirty-year-old gypsy costumes, drank pints of rum and disappeared regularly for a bit of light canoodling. Bree played a harlot, and Tom was the pirate who chased her around making off-color comments about booty. They were ridiculous, but they were happy, and happy was nice. Grandma was the saleswoman who enticed shoppers with her chipper presence and air of authority. If anyone knew holistic, it was Grandma. From Memorial Day through Labor Day, the local apple orchard turned Enchanted Forest was my family’s home away from home.