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

looked at her this time. Thank goodness for red lights. Luci tread lightly, using her look of gentle inquiry in hopes of bringing the tension down a few notches.

Mickey choked. Delaney managed a strangled, “And you’d know this because he’s—”

“Naked,” Luci finished for him.

It was Delaney’s turn to choke. Mickey seemed to have recovered, though his voice sounded like it was being squeezed past a painful obstruction. “So your aunts have—”

“A naked dead man in their freezer.” She used the rear view mirror to make sure her expression was approving enough to reward them for their comprehension without further antagonizing them.

The skin above Mickey’s right eye developed a twitch. He realized the light had changed and put the car in gear—after earning another honk from the car behind them.

“It could be an accident,” Delaney said without conviction.

“Only if bullets are a natural cause of death in this city,” Luci said.

“Bullets?” Mickey sounded more despairing than questioning, but Luci decided to ignore that part.

“Well, bullet. Could be bullets, though there’s just the one hole. I’m not a trained professional, but Miss Weena said he’s been plugged right through the heart with something small caliber.”

Mickey swallowed, a dry raspy sound, before producing with extreme dread, “Miss Weena?”

“She’s had...limited experience with small caliber firearms.”

Mickey got the feeling she was avoiding eye contact with him, and he made a mental note to investigate Miss Weena’s firearms record before exchanging an uneasy look with Delaney. “It’s field-day time for the press, with our asses in the kick position here, Delaney.”

“They’ve been there since we signed on to be cops, Ross. Kind of getting used to it.” He turned back to Luci, his face showing strain. “You say you discovered the body this morning?”

“Oh, I didn’t discover it. My aunts found it, or it might have been Boudreaux. You’d have to ask them about that.” A slight frown appeared between her brows, as if this was a question she hadn’t expected or thought about. “He’s their man. Does the gardening and odd jobs around the place.”

“Uh huh.” The grunt could have meant anything as Delaney busied himself writing in his notebook, asking without looking up, “Anyone recognize the victim?”

“Oh, we all did, but we don’t know him, you understand.”

Mickey didn’t. “You all did what?”

“Recognized him.” Luci sounded like she was explaining, but she wasn’t. Mickey knew an explanation when he heard one, and this wasn’t one. Especially when she added, “But we don’t know him.”

“How the hell can you recognize someone but not know them?” He could hardly see for the twitch above his eye.

Luci shrugged. It was an elegant, vaguely European shrug and caused him to twitch again, but lower down this time. He tried to think that twitch away, but Luci’s mysterious heady scent was winding its way through the air currents and into his nostrils. Both twitches got worse instead of better.

“I didn’t think it was possible,” she said. “But it really is.”

A red mist formed around the edges of his vision, mixing with the lust. St. Charles narrowed to one lane. If he could just hang on a little longer...

He slowed down, trying to keep the car at the center of the red tunnel.

Luci looked at the heirloom timepiece Miss Hermi had pinned to the front of the dress, did a little math and said, “Could we pick up the pace a bit? They’ve been alone with him for quite awhile now.”

Mickey felt his eyes widen as the red tunnel narrowed even more. It took him a long beat to realize there was a red light at the center. He hit the brakes and turned to look at Luci. Delaney was already staring at her, showing whites all around the brown.

“They know about evidence, don’t they?” Delaney asked.

“I did explain to them about evidence and preserving the crime scene, but it’s hard to know what they understand because they’re aging Seymours, which makes it worse. Like wine, aging seems to bring out the bouquet more.” Then she added in a confidential aside to Delaney, “You notice I was careful not to say fine wine, out of deference to Mickey’s headache?”

“Mickey’s head appreciates it,” Mickey said, making no effort to sound appreciative. “Mind explaining why you didn’t just use the phone?”

“I told you, they don’t have one. The technology thing?” She looked at Mickey, then Delaney, but found only increasing confusion.

“How can they not have a telephone?” Delaney rubbed his face, but the confusion stayed where it was. He sounded dazed when he added, “It’s not safe!”

Luci sighed. “I know. Uncle Willy got them one of those ‘I’m falling and I can’t get up’ gizmos, but they buried it under the phlox.” She frowned. “I wouldn’t have chosen phlox. Hydrangea maybe but not phlox.”

They both looked at her, then each other, then her again.

“It’s genetic,” she said. They didn’t blink. “The light’s green.” Another long pause. “That means we can go now.”

Mickey faced forward and went. Delaney was either comatose...or praying.

Luci relaxed. That had gone better than she expected.

8

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Fern and Donald, Artie told himself as he slid out of the cable TV truck he’d “borrowed.” The overalls he’d found inside were a nice bonus. He’d had enough time to get new shoes before heading over to the Seymour’s to wait for a chance to get inside. Too bad he’d forgotten about the old ladies’ thing for electronics. Miss Hermi took one look at him, shrieked and slammed the door. The first time on his foot. He limped back down the walk and almost limped out in front of Fern and Donald. A quick turn took him away from them just as an unmarked police car came around the corner with lights flashing.

He turned again but didn’t see the dog that had come out to sniff him. One minute he was upright. The next he was lying on his back in the grass behind a small white fence staring at a big scratch on