Killer Classics Page 5

  With his hair short, Cade didn’t seem to get as much of a release out of the act as he used to when his hair was longer. After having it singed off when my truck exploded several months ago, he’d worn his hair high and tight like a military man. He’d saved my life that day, and he had the scar on the back of his head to prove it.

  “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean—”

  Cade turned and looked at me. His warm hazel eyes held a look of defeat that I’d never seen in them before. “I don’t blame you, Princess. I just think it’s time I rethink my political career.”

  “But this was your dream,” I argued.

  “The Enchanted Inn is packed with protesters. They’re staying there and spying on the staff to make sure it is as green as the hotel claims to be.”

  “Do they know what the Inn was planning before you stepped in and made them see the potential of going green?”

  Cade shook his head. “They don’t care, Princess. None of that matters. What matters is that I claim to run on an environmental platform, and I didn’t recycle the very things I’m pushing every other business to dispose of in a way that is good for the earth.”

  “What about the solar panels on the roof of the hotel? The built-in containers for hair products and soap in all the bathrooms that reduce the amount of waste, the recycled furniture and LED light fixtures in every room? What about the stone, metal, and wood fixtures throughout the hotel that are all recycled? Do those count for nothing?” I was on my soapbox now, standing up, pacing as he had while ticking off each point as I went. I stopped with my biggest point of all. “What about the low-flow showerheads and toilets and the huge water tank sitting on top of that tower attached to the hotel that is collecting rain water? Do they know the expense the hotel went through to meet the demands of our mayor? I can’t believe they even considered it without legislation; Hazel Rock is not a booming tourist center! What about the recycling center you brought to town? We are producing a quarter of the trash we used to!”

  I took a breath and waited for Cade to respond. He of all people knew how much work he’d put into convincing the hotel and the town to help with the expense of renovating the hotel in an eco-friendly manner. He’d been the talk of the town and the state for his success, and there was expansion in the works to have all the businesses use the Enchanted Inn as a model for future renovations and building projects. It was one of the reasons Cade had been chosen months ago by some bigwigs in DC to be groomed for a bigger role in the political machine.

  “The protestors seem to be multiplying,” my daddy said as he walked in with some pastries from the bakery across the street. “There’s more outside the Barn.”

  Mateo followed him in wearing a frown the size of Texas.

  I didn’t wait for Daddy to set down the box. I grabbed it instead, took out a bagel, and shoved it in my mouth without putting cream cheese or butter on it. I held out the open box for everyone else. Cade and Mateo declined the offer. My daddy took a croissant and pointed it at me. “Liza Twaine would like a statement.”

  “Liza Twaine can stick her interview where the sun doesn’t shine,” I said through my mouthful of bagel.

  “I thought you’d say that. So, I handled it.”

  “What’d you say?”

  “I told her she knew exactly why we burned those books, and I expected her to do an honest report.”

  I took another bite of my bagel. I wasn’t sure how Daddy could possibly think Liza wouldn’t turn this into an opportunity to give her career a facelift. It was her big chance to redeem herself as a reporter and nobody was going to stop her. Not even the truth. Nathan Daniels had pegged her personality with his copycat character in his book.

  “Unfortunately, I’m here for the same reason,” Mateo said as he walked over and opened one of the boxes of political signs.

  I swallowed the bagel too soon. It stuck in my throat and refused to go down. Cade patted me on the back.

  Daddy set his croissant down without taking a bite. “This isn’t a social call to check on Princess?”

  Mateo shook his head. “This is an official visit.”

  Fuzz buckets.

  “Who’s responsible for the fire?” Mateo asked.

  “I—” Daddy started to take credit, but this wasn’t his doing; it was mine.

  I cleared the bagel from my throat. “I did it,” I blurted out with a rasp. “It was my idea.”

  “Charli, don’t say another word.” Cade forgot about his political troubles and dropped back into his attorney role.

  “No one helped? Or added items to the pile?” Mateo’s fingers grazed another box with Cade’s name plastered on the front.

  I shook my head and put up my hand in a gesture to stop Cade from trying to take the blame. “This is on me.” I lifted my chin. “No one else participated.”

  “That’s a misdemeanor in Texas. You told the dispatcher you were burning yard waste, not trash.”

  I gulped.

  Cade took over. “As your attorney, I advise you not to say another word.” He addressed Mateo. “This is a signature bond, Sheriff.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Mateo looked at me with all kinds of disappointment written on his face. Because I broke the law, he was here. Mateo. Not a deputy, but my boyfriend and he didn’t like Cade stepping up to help when he was trying to do his best to take care of me.

  I wanted to tell both of them I was a grown woman, but to be honest, I was humbled by their desire to help me out of the corner I’d put myself in.

  I heard the front buzzer ring and looked at my phone for the time.

  Fuzz buckets. It was time for my book art class with Scarlet. We had seven women signed up to create wreaths out of book pages. Luckily for us, the old, damaged books we’d saved for the class had been sealed in plastic storage bins when our visitor opened a can of stink-butt on the entire loft. But now…

  The significance of Mateo hauling me to jail hit me like I’d been slapped across the face with a copy of The Count of Monte Cristo. “I have to go. My book art class with Scarlet is about ready to start.”

  Mateo stepped directly in front of me as I tried to walk out of the tearoom. His eyes held an apology I didn’t want. “I haven’t prepared anything yet,” I tried to explain. “Scarlet can’t do the class by herself…” Who was I kidding? Scarlet could give the class with her eyes closed.

  “Can she turn herself in this afternoon?” Cade asked.

  Mateo hesitated, and I knew he was thinking about the repercussions of him walking out of the Barn without an arrest by his side. The protestors wouldn’t like it. Liza would undoubtedly ask if he was giving preferential treatment to his girlfriend. He shouldn’t let me go. I deserved to be booked for illegal burning.

  He gave one curt nod: his eyes never leaving mine. “What time?” he asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer from me, but rather from my attorney who’d advised me to keep my mouth shut. Yet Cade needed to know how long I would need.

  “Our class ends at one.”

  “I’ll be here,” Daddy assured me.

  “Can she be at the station at two o’clock?” Cade asked.

  With another terse nod Mateo said, “I’ll be back at two.”

  “That’s not necessary. As her attorney, I’ll have her at the station at two.”

  Mateo wouldn’t stand for it. “I said I’d be back here to get her at two.”

  I turned toward Cade. “It’s okay. It’s best this way considering everything. But I want you to know, I’m really sorry. I know that doesn’t mean much right now, but don’t give up on your political aspirations. You will make a great senator.” I walked back to him and kissed him on the cheek.

  Then I turned around in time to see Mateo’s jaw clench. I wasn’t sure how to address him since he was going to arrest me in a few hours. I couldn’t exactly kiss my jailer. I settle
d for a nod in his direction and said, “Sheriff,” before I exited the tearoom.

  Our class went without a hitch. Each member of the group had a choice of creating a round or a cross-shaped wreath. The ladies followed Scarlet’s lead and rolled their book pages into cones that looked like mini megaphone then dipped the wide end into glitter glue. The narrow end was stapled onto the cardboard backing. The cones were then layered systematically to the fullness each student desired. Once the backings were filled, everyone watched as I showed them how to make roses out of additional book pages. Initially, I had them cut out three six petal flowers from my templates. On the first flower, I demonstrated how to cut a line to the center. The second flower, I had them cut out one petal from a point at the center like a slice of pizza. The third flower they removed two petals in the same manner. Each petal was then covered with Mod Podge or the edges were tinged with an ink pad and then allowed to dry as we had sweet tea and pastries.

  Several of the women tried to get me to talk about the book burning during the break, but Scarlet quickly changed the subject to ribbons and burlap. Once the flowers were dry, we rolled the edges of the petals downward, glued the flower pieces into individual cone shapes, overlapping one petal on each flower piece. When they were done, each student had five mini flowers that were then glued one on top of the other with the last cone being the single petal to create the center of the rose. Most of the women had created three to five flowers total to decorate their wreaths, and when they were complete, the flowers, ribbons, and burlap were placed on the wreaths and crosses.

  They turned out beautifully, and I was glad I’d gotten a little funky with my wreath and made it out of old, chewed-up Marvel graphic novels. It was perfect for the door on the kids’ book stall in the Barn.

  But the sound of protesters outside the store put a damper on the mood. Sugar, who’d made the best cross wreath of the class, with red glitter accentuating the dainty folds of the roses, was quiet throughout the entire class. Her bubbly personality was decidedly missing from the hushed conversations. It seemed no one wanted to ask the difficult questions about what started the influx of loud and obnoxious people raining down on Hazel Rock. They all knew I was responsible; who else could cause that much uproar in town?

  Everyone left with their new piece of home decor except Scarlet and Sugar.

  “Is everything alright, Sugar?” I asked as we finished storing away the books for more projects.

  Sugar’s eyes rimmed with unshed tears. “It’s Dean.”

  I dreaded what was going to come next. It’d been a couple of days since Dean had walked Maddie out of the bar, and I could tell it was still taking its toll on my friend. “Did he…”

  Sugar immediately shook her head. “I don’t know.” She sniffed, picked up her cross, and headed for the steps. “I haven’t seen him since Wednesday. He’s been too busy working.”

  I walked her and Scarlet to the door, and we stared out at the picketers. Not one was a resident of Hazel Rock. Mostly in their twenties, they wore T-shirts with hip slogans, jeans, shorts, and tennis shoes. They wore their hair long and draped across their faces. A few wore bandanas to hide their identity.

  “O.M.W. I never thought I’d see the day that the Book Barn Princess would warrant such ugliness.”

  My head snapped in Scarlet’s direction, causing my curls to brush against my face and tickle my jaw. “Warrant, as in deserve?”

  She shrugged her shoulder. “If you look at it from their perspective, you burned books, plain and simple.”

  “And if you look at it…realistically?” I asked with more than a tinge of irritation in my voice as I pulled my hair back and trapped the unruly strands into a ponytail.

  “Realistically, you’ve got your backside in a sling and your feet in the fire.”

  I snapped my hair tie one last time. “Okay. That’s it. They can go get heatstroke somewhere else.”

  I marched outside with Sugar and Scarlet scurrying after me, but the arrival of a loud motorcycle captured the picketers’ attention more than my appearance. It was one of those large motorcycles that every middle-aged man in the country wanted to own, with a rumble to its engine that shook the ground under our feet. We couldn’t see it over the protesters, but from the looks on their faces and the sound of the engine that sent a shiver traveling from the ground through my body, it had obviously slowed to a crawl and was working its way into the crowd. The protestors parted and a man in his late thirties with a bandana around his head and a braid falling down his back parked the machine at the curb. He eyed us and sneered. Sugar took a step backward, and I somehow knew I needed to protect her from this man.

  I moved in front of her and pulled Scarlet with me as he swung his leg over the seat. He pulled up his jeans that wouldn’t raise above his belly and caressed the two-foot chain hanging down from his handlebars. He looked up at us with his sneer firmly in place. His cheeks were ruddy from the wind and the sun and his eyes were deep set in his face. He spit, and a large juicy wad of tobacco hit the dirt and splattered. Several protesters moved back as they wiped at their legs. He didn’t seem to care. He slipped the back of his hand across his chin and took one step up onto the boardwalk.

  I straightened my back and stood taller. Scarlet did the same and linked her arm with mine. He was well over six foot with a girth that made the boards creak beneath him. His dingy T-shirt was covered by a leather vest with patches I didn’t recognize.

  “Is there something I can do for you?” I asked while praying the quiver I heard in my voice was only noticeable to me.

  “I’m not here to buy Moby Dick. I’m here to talk to her.” He pointed a beefy hand at Sugar, between Scarlet and me then waited for a response.

  “May I ask what this is regarding?”

  “It’s a private matter.” His gravelly voice held a threat that made my knees want to shake, but I wasn’t about to let that happen. I lifted my chin.

  “I’m sure anything you have to say to Sugar can be said in my company.”

  Scarlet agreed. “Mine too.” Her voice was stronger than mine and gave me the confidence I needed to bolster through this no matter what.

  He took one fast step in our direction and stomped on the wooden planks. His fists whipped straight out to his sides, and I truly expected some kind of blade to appear out of nowhere and into his hand. It was one of those Hollywood moves you see in the movies but not in real life. It was meant to bully and intimidate.

  I hid my fear by releasing all my pent-up emotions in one large sigh that actually worked to help me control the adrenaline dump he’d caused.

  “Look, mister—” I paused for him to fill in the blank.

  “Tiny.”

  “Mister Tiny, we don’t want any trouble.”

  “It’s just Tiny. No mister.”

  I nodded in acknowledgment. “Tiny, we don’t want any trouble. We can all go to the courtyard and have a seat at the fountain.” I didn’t want to leave the store but there was no way I was going into the store and let this guy pull out a weapon. If he was going to try to kill us, he was going to have witnesses.

  “Fine.” He leaned down and got in my face. The smell of the tobacco on his breath was so strong and pungent, it was as if I could taste it in my own mouth. Then Tiny leaned around me and spoke to Sugar. “Where’s that sleazeball boyfriend of yours?”

  Sugar didn’t hesitate to defend Dean. She pushed forward between us and got in Tiny’s face. “My fiancée is working, unlike some people I know.” Her eyes washed down him with disdain.

  Her scorn ticked Tiny off even more, and by the look on his face, we were all going to be road pizza within minutes.

  Tiny didn’t wait for us to move toward the courtyard between the Barn and the antique store next door. His lips rolled in on themselves and his nostrils flared. “Where’s my sister?” he demanded.

  I looked at Sca
rlet to see if she knew who he was talking about, but she shook her head. Whoever Tiny’s sister was, I hoped for her sake she got the good genes in the family. Being Tiny’s female twin would be hell.

  “I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her,” Sugar answered.

  “Maddie missed our mama’s birthday yesterday, and she didn’t show up for work today.”

  Sugar’s emotions tracked from her forehead to her chin like a slow trickle of water washing away the dirt inch by inch. Sugar hadn’t seen Dean since Wednesday, and now we knew Maddie had been missing as well. Had the two run off together?

  Sugar’s chin quivered but she lifted it to Tiny and denied any wrongdoing on Dean’s part. “Dean is working. Maddie probably found another man and will show up when she tires of him.” Despite all her bravado, it was obvious she didn’t believe Maddie had found herself a new man. Nor did she want to believe what we were all thinking.

  The whelp of a police siren separated the crowd of protestors who’d become more interested in our conversation than yelling obscenities in our direction, and Mateo maneuvered his unmarked police cruiser toward the Barn. Tiny took one look at the navy-blue charger and shoved his finger in Sugar’s direction.

  “You tell Dean to call me,” he ordered then got on his bike and started it. He walked it backward through the crowd that was looking a little green after a day of picketing in the hot sun and took off down the street. His bike kicked up dust on the picketers who looked as if they’d suffered enough for their efforts and began dispersing.

  I wasn’t sure what had caused them to give up, but in the last fifteen minutes, they’d lost their exuberance to tell me how communistic I was.

  Liza Twaine came running out of the Hazel Rock Diner with her cameraman in tow yelling at the protesters, “You can’t leave! You were paid to be here for the day!”

  “You paid them?” I asked.

  Liza didn’t miss a beat. “Of course I didn’t pay them. Someone else did. They’re professionals. Don’t you know anything?” She chased after her retreating story.