Perilously Fun Fiction: A Bundle by Pauline Jones (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

“Well, I haven’t been asked to strip before—”

“He means at the airport,” Mickey said.

“Oh.” Luci blinked, trying to remember what about last night was supposed to have upset her. Mickey’s pained expression prompted her to say, “Men have tried to kiss me—”

“The shooting,” Mickey snapped, avoiding looking at Delaney.

The urge to grin had the edges of her mouth twitching. “Oh. That. Right. The shooting. Did you catch them?” The two men shuffled their feet, making it even harder to keep the grin at bay. A sweet smell crossed her nose’s path, pulling her attention abruptly from them. “Yum. Those beignets look lovely. It’s been years since I had one.”

She gave them a hopeful look and saw Mickey open his mouth to cut off this blatant solicitation, but Delaney forestalled him.

“Mick and I were just going to have some. Would you like to join us?”

“I would adore it.” She pretended not to see the obvious signs—streaks of powdered sugar on their suit pants—that they’d already had some, and slipped a hand through Delaney’s crooked elbow. “So kind.”

Mickey stood his ground, but neither of them appeared to notice, so he stomped after them, reaching the table too late to stop the order going in.

“We’ll have to make it quick, Delaney,” he said, going for firm and authoritative. “We have to get back—” The words died in his throat when she turned towards him, her eyes large and sad in her face. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” She turned back to Delaney. “Do I look like something’s wrong?”

Delaney looked uncomfortable. “Well, yes.”

She leaned forward and patted his arm. “I am sorry. Sometimes I emanate.”

Mickey looked at Delaney and found the same bewilderment in his eyes, so he looked at Luci just in time to see her give a tiny shake, casting off sorrow like a cat shakes off water.

“It’s these clothes my aunts picked out. They were somebody’s funeral outfit. Death and mourning are very strong auras.” She leaned closer to Delaney, giving him a confidential smile. “Auras are very useful in my profession. Did Mickey tell you I’m an actress?”

Mickey choked.

“No, he didn’t.” Delaney leaned in to meet her halfway. “I’ll bet you’re a great leading lady.”

“That’s so sweet of you!” Mickey couldn’t believe it when she rapped him lightly with the fan. “But I’m not really the leading lady type. I do character parts.” She gave Mickey a quick look, her eyes wide and mischievous, before turning them back on Delaney. “I just finished a run in Arsenic and Old Lace.”

“One of my favorites.” Delaney covered her hand with his. “And you were—?”

“Abby, one of the crazy aunts who kill old and lonely men. It’s an amazing coincidence, when you think about it, because when they showed it to me, I had an overwhelming urge to say my lines, only there was no Mortimer to freak out.” She turned to Mickey. “Then I thought of you. Isn’t it interesting the way fiction and reality sometimes collide?”

Mickey’s eyes narrowed. Was that humor lurking in the depths of her eyes? He leaned towards her and asked with calm emphasis, “What are you talking about?”

She looked surprised, then demure. She looked away, then back. “How can I say this?”

“Try words,” Mickey suggested.

“It’s...a...stiff.”

“A...stiff?” Mickey had been expecting a curveball from her, but he still wasn’t ready for it. Perhaps it wasn’t possible to be ready for her curveballs.

She looked down, then back up at him, her eyes deep, green and utterly mysterious. “Stiff in...every...way.”

Luci didn’t get her beignets. She looked longingly over her shoulder as Mickey and Delaney hustled her to their car and inserted her in the back seat.

“Shouldn’t we call in the Crime Lab and the Coroner’s office?” Delaney asked Mickey across the top of the car.

“You heard what she said about fiction and reality, Delaney. What if she’s mixed too much fiction with her reality?”

Delaney’s face was a study in the journey to enlightenment and then to horror as he processed this.

“Right. We wait.” He pulled open his door and squeezed in, no car being wholly capable of accommodating his bulk.

Mickey grinned and slid behind the wheel. The grin faded as he watched Luci. In the back seat, she straightened her body and dress, removed the floppy hat and fluffed her hair back up. She settled in, dead center, her hands folded in her lap like a Vanderbilt in a limousine. Her pose settled, she looked around her with something less than enthusiasm.

Mickey felt his hackles rise again, but couldn’t seem to help it. He didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to turn and look at her when he did, but couldn’t help that either.

“What?”

“Is this a real police car?”

He opened his mouth but closed it when he realized he didn’t have an answer. He turned around and started the car, leaving the field of battle to Delaney. He’d wanted to meet Luci. Here was his chance. Mickey put the official light on the dash and used it just long enough to force their way into traffic.

Delaney propped an elbow on the seat and said to Luci, “It’s unmarked for undercover work.”

“I see.” Luci nodded wisely. “No siren?”

“Sorry.” Delaney looked almost guilty. “Dead bodies aren’t exactly emergencies.”

Luci smiled, her face partially framed by the rear view mirror. “Certainly not a frozen one.”

“Frozen?” Mickey’s question was a quick echo of Delaney’s. Like Delaney, he looked at her, though his look was, of necessity, very brief, because of the swerve the front wheels made, followed quickly by the honk from the car behind him.

“I said he was a stiff,” Luci reminded them, as she quickly hunted up the seat belt and secured it. “What did you think I meant?”

“That he was—” Delaney stopped and gave Mickey a help me out here look.

In the rear view mirror, Luci saw Mickey’s bug-eyed “I wish I could help you” look and barely managed to hold back a grin. She cleared the chuckle from her throat and said, “He’s that, too.” They were both showing their whites when they