Runways and High Heels and Murder Read online

  Runways and High Heels and Murder

  Fiona Fleming Cozy Mysteries #9

  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/

  Edited by Jessica Bufkin

  Thanks, as always, Kirstin!

  ***

  Chapter One

  I had no idea hitting someone could be so emotionally satisfying. Not that I condoned violence on a regular basis, but I did happen to be known for my temper. Still, I usually took the pacifist route on the outside, if I tended to boil over on the inside. This opportunity to actually use my fists to strike out at another human being had much more appeal than I should have allowed myself. And the tight grin and panting half-hiccup, half-giggle that escaped me every time I punched Matt honestly had to go.

  Self-defense class was fun, yo.

  I wasn’t sure the park ranger and current love interest of our local deputy-turned-teacher knew what he was getting himself into when Jill Wagner agreed to show a few of the local ladies a thing or two about protecting ourselves. Not that the cutest town in America was all that dangerous or anything, but Reading had its share of visitors from out of town these days with tourism booming as it had been thanks to our mayor’s continuing efforts. Oh, and the murders. Yeah. Those. All eight of which I’d had up close and personals with over the last two years.

  “That’s it, Fee.” Matt was doing his best to stay chipper as I whacked him in the ribs with my elbow like Jill taught me. He sounded less than delighted by the solid blow I landed while I snorted my delight at the sheer excitement of letting out some physical tension in a perfectly legal and condoned fashion. Especially since there was other physical tensions building in my life, namely concerning a certain sheriff of said cutest American town and the fact Crew Turner made my madly beating heart go pitter-pat far too often.

  I landed another blow before stepping aside, catching Matt’s wince, his forced smile as Alicia Conway bounced into my place, her long ponytail bobbing behind her, tiny body surprisingly muscular in her capris and sport tank. I grudgingly gave way to her, almost laughing out loud at the look on Matt’s face.

  Yup, he was definitely regretting volunteering to be a punching bag.

  “Fee, you can join us over here.” I followed Jill’s direction, quickly crossing the Reading High School gym to her side where she had the group of women not beating the crap out of her boyfriend split into pairs. I’m positive she wasn’t expecting our conversation over coffee, joined by my bestie, Daisy Munroe, my mother, Lucy, and the excitable Alicia to spiral out from a couple of ladies learning a move or two from our favorite deputy to what felt like the bulk of the female population in our little town coming out to fill the gym with eager excitement. I’d never seen so much spandex and shelf-bra tank tops in one place in my life, and was sure some of the older ladies had pulled out their favorite workout gear from the 80’s just for this event.

  “Where do you want me?” I knew I was grinning, couldn’t help it. Jill seemed a bit frazzled, but had taken everything in stride when Alicia turned our group of students into a giant show that required the rental of the gym we stood in. Of course, the fact Olivia Walker was here meant we likely had the place for free. Alicia’s frowning suggestion we charge at the door was denied by the deputy’s matching frown and now I wondered, looking around at all those women, if Jill might be regretting her decision to give up her Saturday morning without compensation.

  Oh, Fee. Always the businesswoman.

  Jill gestured toward the group and a small selection of women standing off to one side, Mom among them. “You can take a break,” she said, “or find a partner and practice some of your blocks.”

  I saluted with a saucy toss of my head and bounced to my mother who beamed at me, her own trim form neatly dressed in a matching velvet tracksuit with the tightest t-shirt I’d ever seen Mom wear proclaiming her a “Goddess”. I think I bought it for her last Christmas and grinned to see her wearing it. She grasped for my hand, tugging me to her side, almost vibrating and a bit breathless.

  “How fun is this?” She giggled behind one hand. “Now I know why boys like it so much. It’s rather satisfying to just let loose every once in a while, isn’t it?”

  I didn’t remind her this was meant to be protection training, just in case and instead let her have her entertainment. As far as I was concerned, nothing bad would ever touch my mother, not for as long as my dad had her back. The big retired sheriff might have been working as a P.I. these days, but that didn’t mean my father was a slouch at making sure Mom was safe and secure.

  Still, the niggling worries about their past, his in particular, tied to the mysterious Siobhan Doyle and local Irish mafia boss, Malcolm Murray, lingered like a toothache I just couldn’t shake. You’d think making me a partner in Fleming Investigations without my consent or knowledge would mean Dad would be open to sharing what he knew about the mess I seemed only able to uncover in drips and bits. But no, not John Fleming. I might as well ask for him to hand over his gun and his will to live.

  Mom glanced at Matt just as Alicia landed a particularly sharp blow to his already abused ribs and actually winced. “Poor boy,” she said, though I’d seen her take her own gleeful shots at him just a few minutes ago. “You should have asked Crew to come and help out so Matt wouldn’t have to do this alone.”

  I laughed. “I did.” Did I, and was turned down as he broke into an almost hysterical laugh of his own. “He said he’s had enough of being a target of the women in Reading.”

  Mom snorted delicately, green eyes that matched mine sparkly. “Point taken. Still, he must be happy you decided to do this. What with all the troubles.”

  My mother’s polite way of saying she worried about me and was grateful to know I might actually be able to defend myself if something happened. Because, just my luck, something would again, wouldn’t it? “Him and Dad and you and Daisy and everyone else I talked to,” I found myself grumbling.

  “We just want you to be safe, Fee,” Mom said, patting my arm. “If you’d stop finding dead bodies and almost dying on us, maybe we’d stop worrying.”

  What had she said? Point taken? Grumble.

  Daisy bounded to my side, her own dark blonde hair in two plaited braids, looking adorable in her trendy workout clothes. She’d returned from her father’s funeral a different woman, though not in the way I’d feared. When she’d gone to Montpelier with her half-sister, Rose Norton, back in November, I’d been sure the time together would turn into a disaster for her. Since I was positive it was Rose who influenced Daisy and made her doubt herself in the first place, I’d fully expected my bestie would be completely lost to me when she came home again. If she even came back at all, partnership or not. I’d been witness firsthand to the influence Rose had on Day, as had Mom. Which was why we were both shocked and delighted the morning Daisy rolled in, gray eyes sad but lips smiling, and firmly and cheerfully took her place yet again as part of our combined business.

&nbs
p; There wasn’t much said and I didn’t press her, though Rose seemed put out and unhappy by the whole attitude Daisy wore. Which meant I was delighted, naturally. If what happened between them was something my best friend felt the need to share with me down the road, I’d be here for her. I was just happy the stressful clashing we’d done over the last year—all thanks to Rose, I had no qualms saying it in my head or out loud—was done and buried.

  I’d hoped the change in their relationship would mean Rose would wander off back to Montpelier and stay there. No such luck. Wouldn’t you know her little love affair—gag, barf, kill it with fire—with my cousin, Robert Carlisle, meant she was staying put for as long as the two of them were in—choke, wheeze, gross—love.

  Dear god, please don’t let them breed.

  One of my most satisfying moments was watching Rose flounce in that morning, realize she actually had to do some work, and flounce out again, leaving the rest of us to enjoy ourselves. From the way the other women seemed equally happy to see her go, it was clear Rose wasn’t making friends in Reading and I hoped the tide had turned permanently against Robert, too. Sure, he was technically related to us—an accident of birth I longed for the means to rectify—he wasn’t a Fleming no matter how much some townsfolk wished that were true. His pompous nature and the way he’d fallen down on the job, along with Olivia’s resurgence in popularity—and Crew’s along with her—had created a definitely lean toward Rosebert being on the outs and, thanks to Dad’s thriving P.I. business, even more reliance on my family than ever.

  At least Crew wasn’t being punished for it any longer. That he was telling me about.

  I waved at Olivia who was actually sweating, her shining dark bob tucked back behind her ears. She actually looked human and like she was enjoying herself as she sparred with Vivian French. I’d been thinking a lot lately about the Queen of Wheat. Had mostly dropped my animosity toward her, thanks to her support of my mother, her show of humanity from time to time. If Mom trusted her, I’d give her the benefit of the doubt despite our past. But her obvious connection to the Patterson family and her influence over town council had been made pretty apparent in the debates of the fall, something I still hadn’t come to grips with. And no number of attempts to corner her or invite her for coffee had gained me even an inch of ground on the subject.

  I had a love/hate relationship with mysteries that I honestly wasn’t sure if I could live without. Good thing Reading had no end of things for me to poke my nose into then, wasn’t it?

  As I stepped back and looked around, I had this sudden surge of pride hit me almost like a blow. Talk about girl power. I grew up in Reading, left for ten years, and came home to slide into my Grandmother Iris’s comfortable if well-worn shoes. And while I’d come to think of Reading as the place I wanted to spend the rest of my life, this was the first time I felt such a powerful kinship with my Reading sisterhood. I was grinning again, hugged Mom around the shoulders, my heart full and my head clear.

  All was right in the world, or at least my small corner of it.

  What was it about actually thinking such things that ensured disaster was just around the corner? Pessimist. Who, me?

  ***

  Chapter Two

  “Fee, can I talk to you a moment?”

  I hadn’t seen much of Alice Moore the last few months, but that didn’t mean much. Life was so busy, running into old acquaintances I considered friends happened less frequently than expected, even in such a small town as Reading. The young, self-proclaimed medium looked great, happier than ever, her slightly-on-the-skinny-side body looking more muscular than emaciated these days, her beaming smile at least boding well for the nature of her requested conversation. I felt tension leave me when I registered her upbeat mood and nodded a welcome, wondering what had gotten into me that a polite request to chat put my back up at all.

  Sheesh, Fee. Not every talk had to be bad news.

  Alice stood next to me, her dark hair in a ponytail halfway down her back, her big, almost haunting hazel eyes watching me with that kind of creepy focus I was used to when it came to her. She’d gotten herself contacts at some point since I saw her last, making her gaze even more intense, usually hidden behind the thick lenses of her glasses. I’d once called her plain in my head, felt guilty about labeling her by her looks rather than her personality, and realized I was wrong. Maybe it was love—she and Denver Hatch, grandson of the deceased fake psychic who’d brought us all together, were still a couple as far as I knew—or her attitude, but the mid-twentysomething young woman with the thin, pale face and intent attention when she looked at you was far prettier these days than I’d given her credit for.

  Not that looks were important. Fee, seriously.

  “Nice to see you, Alice.” I felt my cheeks heat from my line of thought and hoped she’d chalk it up to the workout. “How’s Denver?”

  It was her turn to flush, slow blinks of her long lashes answering that question. “He’s wonderful,” she said. Not gushing, because Alice didn’t. But about as close to it as she was going to get in her soft voice. “He says hello.”

  “What can I do for you?” I grinned at Daisy who took her turn whacking Matt. She had a wicked left hook I hadn’t noticed before. Mind you, she’d never hit me, had she?

  “I was hoping I could ask your advice.” Alice hesitated before rushing on while my mind whirled about what she might possibly ask me to help her with. “I’ve been taking on a few jobs out of state lately. Denver’s been coming with me. We’ve started a paranormal investigation company. A bit more official than my blog.” She cleared her throat, her jagged sentences sounding stiff and well-orchestrated, too much so to be random. So she’d thought ahead what she was going to say? Was I that intimidating to my friends or was it just Alice? “While I’ve made a good living from advertising on my page, Denver thought it might be a great idea to actually make the business official.” She blinked slowly again, paused. Waited. For what? My approval? I nodded slowly, so confused but pretty sure she was going to get to the point and willing to wait her out, though I didn’t afford that kind of patience to many people. Alice was different. Like creepily awesome different. She grinned when I nodded as if I’d done her a huge favor and went on, talking faster now. “I was hoping I might be able to call on you from time to time, just in case I run into something I can’t handle. Or need to bounce ideas off someone.”

  Whoa. Wait a second. “You’re pursuing murder investigations?” Dad would be a better choice.

  But Alice looked startled then amused. “Not the way you think,” she said, laughter in her voice. “Though there will be death involved, we’ll be looking into the kinds of cases that include hauntings, not necessarily uncovering murderers.” Her lips twitched as she sighed. “It’s just that I have to deal with the living, you know? I’m so much better at handling the dead.”

  Yeah, that wasn’t freaky or anything, Alice. I had to admit, I was intrigued and more than a bit creeped out. After all, I still didn’t have a solid explanation for the ghost sighting of Manuel Cortez two Halloween’s ago, the night Sadie Hatch was murdered by that same young man’s father. Alice’s forte wasn’t mine, her pursuit of debunking hauntings and those who used them for their own gain much more macabre than running a B&B.

  Okay, who was I kidding? I was up to, what, eight dead bodies at this point? Knowing my face had to register wry amusement, I shrugged.

  “If you think I can ever be of help,” I said, “feel free.”

  She seemed relieved by the offer and hugged me suddenly, surprisingly, before she stepped away, her own face startled like I’d been the one to instigate the embrace. She rubbed both thin hands together, the lingering chill of their touch on my back making me shiver. But she was still smiling and bobbed a final nod before turning and walking away, joining a group of women standing around Jill.

  I was about to follow her when Alicia bounded up to me, grinning. “Great class!” She seemed about as wound up as ever, and maybe even m
ore so, ready, if the little fists she held at both her sides were any indication, ready to test out her newfound abilities on Jared Wilkins, her fiancé, when she got home.

  “Awesome.” I beamed at her, doing my best to avoid the tiny knot of hurt that lingered between us. “How are the wedding plans coming along?”

  Her face fell slightly, her expression turning from open happy to guarded in a flash that told me I shouldn’t have opened my big mouth. When she and Jared informed me just a few weeks ago they had to cancel their plans to use the annex for their wedding, that family pressure had led them to instead use the Marie Patterson Equestrian Center, I’d done my best not to let my young friends see my disappointment. It wasn’t their fault the Pattersons seemed to get everything they wanted, even with Jared’s mother, Aundrea, formerly on the outs. Maybe things had changed. If so, though, I hoped it didn’t mean the end of my friendships with the young couple. I adored them both too much to lose them over something as dumb as hurt feelings about a wedding venue.

  “Fine,” Alicia said, fake smile flashing, eyes sad before she bounded away again.

  Well, crappy. That would be the last time I asked. I’d stayed out of it, including asking Aundrea herself, the happily married woman in question beaming at her wife as she and Pamela Shard joined the others watching Jill. But my nosiness hadn’t kept me from asking the newspaperwoman her opinion the day after Alicia and Jared came to tell me the news.

  I’d expected something from Pamela. Some kind of snarky comeback about the Pattersons, some reaction in accordance with the hard-nosed former Boston Globe photojournalist. Instead, she’d shrugged and refused to answer, practically ushering me out of her office and closing the door behind her.

  Okay, so I was standing here now in the gym weeks later, glaring at Pamela as I remembered her reticence to talk. And, come to think of it, she’d been sort of avoiding me lately, hadn’t she? Despite my continuing column contributions to the Reading Reader Gazette. Hadn’t her own stories become rather tame lately? Compared to how scathing they used to be, tearing Olivia a new one on a regular basis, even going after Crew and the Patterson family. I’d noted since the wedding she’d started easing up on all of them, as if someone—one guess as to who—was pressuring her to stop rocking the Reading boat.