Plaid and Fore! and Murder Read online

  Plaid and Fore! and Murder

  Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries #10

  Patti Larsen

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright 2018 by Patti Larsen

  Find out more about me at

  http://www.pattilarsen.com

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  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the vendor and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Cover art (copyright) by Christina G. Gaudet. All rights reserved.

  http://castlekeepcreations.com/

  Thanks, as always, Kirstin!

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  Chapter One

  Could we have packed more people into Crew’s little house? I doubted it very much as the press of friends and loved ones filled his living room, the gorgeous sheriff himself tucking against me with his left arm around my waist, hand on my hip, looking as delicious as he smelled. I couldn’t stop staring at him, or grinning. He’d grown his hair out again since cutting it super short for his stint with the FBI, the dark waves brushing the white collar of his dress shirt, open at his throat, sleeves rolled to expose his tanned forearms, lower half tucked into the yummiest pair of dark wash jeans ever. No, wait, that was just because he was wearing them. He could have been in a burlap sack and he’d have looked good enough to snack on.

  Mom had taken over the kitchen for the party, handing out her rendition of Crew’s favorites done up in bite-sized morsels. How she’d figured out deep-frying spheres of spaghetti in panko crumbs dipped in pasta sauce wrapped around a meatball I had no idea, but I wasn’t complaining. Then again, I wasn’t really eating, either. Too nervous. Not that tonight was extraordinary or anything.

  I was only getting engaged (again).

  The first time had stuck, don’t get me wrong. I’d cried and hugged him and kissed him over and over again that night in my basement apartment at Petunia’s, wanting to get married right then and there. March was a magical month to tie the knot, right? But when Crew and I took a visit to Mom and Dad’s late that evening to fill them in on the news, Mom’s reaction had been, well, a bit over-the-top.

  “An engagement party!” She’d gushed like a fountain with a broken valve and my fate was sealed.

  I leaned into Crew, my nose tucked into the hollow of his collarbone and inhaled his scent, a subtle connection but one he reacted to with a shiver. He wasn’t the only one with goosebumps, his chin tilting down, lips brushing my forehead like we were the only two in the room, not circled by those we cared about most in the world while everyone waited for the inevitable.

  It was June, though. A far cry from that early spring night when Crew first proposed. I’d worn the ring since then, of course I had, but Mom’s insistence on a party had led to numerous planned attempts, three cancelled evenings and, finally, a forced date she organized herself out of sheer frustration on her part. It wasn’t my fault Petunia’s and the annex were so busy, nor that her own business catering on the side had turned into more than she could handle alone.

  Snort. Careful what you wish for, Lucy Fleming. Like I should talk.

  Speaking of Petunia, the fat pug shifted her weight, butt heavy on my toes as she groaned her delight that so many people had come to see her and—better, in her opinion, I was certain—drop copious crumbs on the floor for her to Hoover. She’d packed on some extra pounds the last year thanks to how busy I’d been and the fact the endless stream of guests at the B&B of her name just couldn’t seem to resist her giant brown eyes. Or read, either, apparently, despite the numerous signs begging them to stop giving her treats.

  She looked up at me and sighed, tongue lolling out to the side, giant doggie grin making me wonder how much she really understood. I knew she adored Crew, was more likely to end up in his lap than mine when we sat to watch a movie. Helped he loved her as much as me (sigh), always kind and patient with her.

  I looked around the room, feeling teary, emotional suddenly, at the collection of thirty or so people who beamed back at me like this was the best night of their lives, too. Between Mom and Dad, Daisy and Jill, and a selection of other dear friends, my heart was full. Though, I was sad to admit there were a few omissions I would have loved to see in the crowd. The fact Alicia Conway and her own fiancé, Jared Wilkins, were absent twinged deeply, like a faint ache. And the missing Aundrea Wilkins and her wife, Pamela Shard, sat uneasily. All four had been friends of mine for long enough the estrangement that had only increased the last three months added extra weight to tonight. Weight I wished would lift.

  Being busy wasn’t the only reason I’d put off the engagement party, though I’d never had said a word to Crew. No, I’d finally admitted my reticence had nothing to do with time and everything to do with timing. He’d asked me to marry him shortly after I’d almost died (for the however many it might be time) and while I knew he was going to ask me before I’d nearly been drowned in the White Valley Lodge swimming pool by a frustrated and rather short in the brains department fashion designer, it still made me hesitate.

  The last thing I wanted was for Crew Turner to marry me just to protect me.

  Silly? Maybe. My logical brain knew better but the churning, worry prone and self-doubting part of me whispered late at night when I was vulnerable and really should have been sleeping that he didn’t really want to tie the knot. He was reacting to my near-death experiences with testosterone and panic.

  Of course I didn’t believe it (uh-huh, sure, Fee). And honestly, when Mom forced this date on us, this party arranged without any input from me, I finally caved to the truth. That truth that shone in the gloriously blue eyes of the man who smiled down at me right now like I was the only person in the room, who tasted my lips with the barest touch of his own even as Dad cleared his throat and, grinning, took a half step forward with a wicked twinkle in his eyes.

  “It’s time,” he said in his rough, gravel voice. “Make an honest woman of her.”

  The gathering laughed while I blushed and made a face at my father. It wasn’t like we were living together or anything. Nice choice of words, Dad. In fact, we’d been pretty well behaved, if I said so myself. A fact I intended to alter in the near future. Growl.

  Crew cleared his throat, laughing, enough tension in him I knew he was nervous as he stepped away from me and, the ring I’d never let out of my sight or off my person since he gave it to me briefly back in his possession, fell to one knee at my side and offered it up in one faintly trembling hand.

  “Fiona Fleming,” he said, voice clear despite his nerves—mutual nerves, you betcha—“I have had a crush on you since we were little, in case you didn’t know.” Everyone oohed and aahhed while I smiled and blushed and remembered him telling me we’d met a long time ago, when he and his father had come to Reading to search for the treasure hoard we now knew was real. I hadn’t remembered, but, clearly, I left an impression on him. “And while I’ve been a bit slow to accept the inevitable,”—laughter, seriously, did they have to find that so funny?—“I’ve never been happier than I am right now, right here. With you.” More murmurs and sighs. Because he was swoon-worthy, this man of mine. My free right hand rose and pressed to my heart, I kid you not, and again there was only him when the shining, sparkling diamond appeared in his grasp and he offered it up to me, his face earnest, open, full of love. “My darling Fee, my heart and soul, will you marry me?”

  I’d been
planning this for a while now, knowing I’d have to answer in front of everyone and wanting it to be special for both of us despite my nerves. But rather than the faintly elaborate speech I’d sorted out, I simply cupped his face in both hands, feeling the warmth of his skin on my palms, cherishing the moment when I smiled and nodded and said, “Yes.”

  He kissed me while everyone cheered, though I barely heard them, staying down on that knee until our lips parted again. When he rose, he slipped the ring back into place, the odd feeling of it missing finally ended. And then, to my delight and her utter pleasure, fat butt wiggling in response, Crew bent to Petunia and offered her a small cookie in the shape of her very own diamond ring.

  “What do you say, Petunia?” He laughed as the whites of her eyes showed, drool dripping when she groaned her agreement and took the treat with a surprisingly slow and gentle bite before crunching it into oblivion. Crew straightened, arm around me again, and smiled. “I guess it’s official, if Petunia said yes.”

  More laughter, before Mom interrupted. “Have you set a date?”

  Oh. My. God. Was she serious? Talk about cracking the whip. I could see the organizational demon lurking behind her eyes and just knew the next question would be about babies if someone didn’t stop her.

  “We have.” Thankfully Crew answered for me so I wouldn’t sound snarky on such a happy occasion. “December. A Christmas wedding.”

  He might as well have handed Mom her first grandchild then and there while I groaned inwardly and hoped she could keep some semblance of normal the next six months without the two of us trying to kill each other over the details.

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  Chapter Two

  I didn’t think I’d ever regain possession of my left hand, seeing as Crew hadn’t released it since he put the ring back on my finger. Not that I was complaining or anything, the steady warmth of his touch about the most amazing thing I could ever imagine. Still, it made it kind of hard to do normal things like scratch my nose or cover my mouth when I had to clear my throat, with my right hand constantly filled with a wine glass Daisy kept topped up the rest of the evening.

  I drifted around Crew’s living room, dining room, kitchen while he chatted in his deep, happy voice with our guests, my own brain sort of shut down and all focus on him, on the heat of his skin against mine, on the freckle that graced the webbing between his index and middle finger, the way his knuckles were wide and square, how despite the fact I had rather sizeable hands myself, mine was dwarfed by the large, capable one that seemed intent on never, ever letting me go. I know I smiled and nodded and made the right noises at people because they smiled and nodded and made noises back. And Crew didn’t seem put off by my lack of attention to the world around me, not in the least, as he led me from room to room, from person to encounter to conversation, as if knowing I was in a cloud of hazy love and adoration that had only one occupant and couldn’t handle much else.

  By the time Mom waved out the last of the celebrants—Olivia Walker, our esteemed mayor, had a bit too much to drink, I remembered that much, and her sloppy hugs and kisses had an air of over-the-top excessiveness to them, though I didn’t mind at all—I was ready for the whole world to just go away already and leave me with the man I couldn’t stop staring at.

  Funny, he was staring right back with a lovely little smile pulling at those tasty lips of his. Giggle.

  Mom hugged Crew and only at that moment did he finally release me. The loss of his touch acted like a poke to my ribs, shaking me out of the lovely la-la-land I’d been suspended in and, when I turned around to set down the drink I’d barely touched despite Daisy’s attentions, I came face-to-face with our final guest.

  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised to find Special Agent Elizabeth Michaud standing there, nor that she’d remained behind as the final visitor. She and Crew had been partners, after all, during his days with the FBI and he’d gone running when she’d come calling, taking on an old case to help her out and, more importantly, one he still felt obligated to see to the end. He’d never told me the details of it, though I was well aware he’d been undercover and likely in a great deal of danger, something I did my best not to think too long and hard about. Considering I’d almost died several times myself over the course of our relationship—dating or not—Crew deserved my faith he’d done everything he could to stay safe.

  He was here with me, wasn’t he? That was all the trust-building I needed.

  “Fee.” Liz kept her voice low, her dark brown eyes framed in thick black lashes that made me wish for her dark hair and tanned complexion fixed on me, a faint smile on her full lips. I’d been kind of jealous of her once upon a time, despite the fact Crew insisted they were just partners, friends, that he’d been completely in love with his dearly departed first wife and that he’d left the FBI shortly after Michelle lost her battle with cancer. No time for love to blossom between him and the stunning woman in front of me. Still, I’d fought a feeling of intimidation and the faintest resentment, if only because she’d shared so much with him, as his partner, his best friend at Quantico. They’d been in danger together, I could only imagine, had each other’s backs at the worst of times, held each other in that sort of camaraderie that two people shared when they held each other’s lives in their hands. Yup, jealous, and not afraid to admit it.

  “Liz.” I shook her hand, shocked when the normally stoic agent grasped me firmly and hugged me. And it wasn’t a perfunctory, obligatory hug, either. The full-on squeeze of solid friendship surprised me enough I hugged her back and beamed a smile when she let me go.

  “I’ve never seen him so happy.” Her voice was low, thick, the barest trace of moisture in her eyes as she smiled back. “Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it. He deserves happiness.” She sounded wistful then. Was she thinking about what could have been or her own love life? I had no idea if she was even married, had a boyfriend/girlfriend/partner of any kind and suddenly wanted to know. This surge of connection was as unexpected as it was lovely and I caught her hand, held it a moment, before releasing her, hoping she got the message. “You two moving in together soon or what?” Her easy grin and eyebrow wiggles made me laugh as much as they fired up my craving for exactly what she was hinting at not so subtly.

  “We’re talking about it,” I said, glancing at him with wicked intent that made Liz snort. “Likely here, or we’ll buy another place a bit bigger.” Sure, my apartment at Petunia’s was small, but the two of us crammed into a little space? I needed some room, thanks. I was really hoping Daisy would take me up on my offer to give over the basement at the B&B to her. She didn’t have to live with Rose any longer, at least, her evil half-sister, fairy tales aside, firmly shacked up with my cousin Robert. But it made sense for her to move in there, to give up the tiny place she’d rented on the edge of town.

  “I hear my old partner’s been doing some moonlighting.” Liz leaned in toward me, hands in the pockets of her suit pants, looking every inch the FBI agent despite the party she’d just attended. The glossy ends of her dark ponytail spread over the deep blue of her jacket, no-nonsense hairstyle doing little to detract from her attractiveness. This was the longest we’d been in each other’s company since we’d met and I found I rather liked her now that I was giving her a chance. “For your dad?”

  Hmmm, poking around, was she? Not like I wasn’t guilty of the same thing and if we had info of mutual benefit from said poking, what was the harm? “Apparently,” I said, hoping she had more knowledge than I did but seeing her nose wrinkle knew they’d both been playing things close enough to the vest Dad and Crew had frustrated her with their silence, too.

  “Keep me posted,” she said. “If you don’t mind.” So she was thinking the same thing I was? Excellent. A trained investigator on my side might have felt a bit lopsided but I’d uncovered my own share of mysteries so I wasn’t feeling all that overshadowed. Sure, Fee. “I’m happy to help, I just need to know certain details before I give information that might get me in troubl
e.”

  Hang on. “What are they asking you to investigate?” Now my inner busybody was really tweaked.

  Liz’s eyes narrowed and I could tell she was about to retreat. Until she sighed before barking a little laugh. “Here I am asking you to be open with me and I’m about to do the opposite.” She shook her head, still grinning. “Sorry, Fee. Old habits. I’m not used to trusting anyone who isn’t my partner, you know?” I nodded, let her go on. “They’ve been looking into the Patterson family.” Liz reached for her buzzing phone, glanced at it, grimaced. “Work calls. As usual.”

  The Pattersons. “And Blackstone?” I don’t know why I blurted that out, only that it got the kind of response I was hoping for (and dreading at the same time).

  Liz flinched, frowned, sighed one more time. “And Blackstone,” she said. “What do you know? Because that corp is so wrapped up behind shell companies, numbered accounts and layers of lawyers I can’t even get the real name of the CEO.”

  Grunt. “Tell you what,” I said, lowering my own voice even further. “I’ll tell you what I know—and whatever else I learn—if you’ll do me a favor.” Liz didn’t respond, but she didn’t say no, just stared with that perfect arched eyebrow. I took it as a go ahead and we’d see. “There’s a missing person I’d love some info on,” I said. “Her name was Fiona Doyle, from Ireland originally, then Chicago, daughter of Siobhan Doyle and Malcolm Murray. She disappeared from Reading a little over thirty years ago.”

  Liz didn’t react to that name like she had Blackstone, shrugging in her casual agent way, telling me the boys hadn’t been inquiring. Which made me wonder because Crew now knew about Fiona and hadn’t he said he was going to do some digging himself? Had Dad gotten to him?

  “Deal,” she said, shaking my hand this time. “Nice doing business with you, Fiona Fleming.”