Page 9

CHAPTER 9

I turned to the doctor—Jackie now—while Maggs snoozed behind us, chin on one paw, looking not lethal at all even though she could tear your throat out if so inclined. Much like the rest of Rocky Start, which I now had to explain.

“This will go faster if you let me tell it and then ask questions,” I said as I stirred my Lemon Zinger tea. I was going to need all the zing I could get on this one.

She nodded, more interested in her coffee and butterkuchen than me at the moment. Coral’s butter cake is an experience in Ecstasy. Between that and Luke, we had a pretty compelling argument for staying. That was, of course, offset by the fact Luke had left carrying a body and Coral was sitting at the table behind us, trying not to bleed to death.

I decided to begin at the beginning. “Thirty years ago, two spies parachuted close to here when it was basically a ghost town. They bought up every piece of property they could find—do not ask where they got the money—and made this a retirement community for ex-operatives. At least ten percent of the population here is ex-players: assassins, code-breakers, chemists, snoops. The rest are civilians who don’t know about it, although they have to know there’s something odd about the place.” That wasn’t good, so I added, “Delightfully odd. Rocky Start is a wonderful place to live. Eccentric. People love it here.”

Jackie had gone still when I’d said “assassins.”

Yeah, I know that sounds bad.

Then she glanced at Coral. “She doesn’t look like an assassin.”

“They never do.” I mean, the other assassins I knew in Rocky Start didn’t look like killers, either. There was our local beauty and femme fatale Louise, who just looked expensive; or busty, blousy Bea Handler who looked like the markdown version of Louise; or sweet, old, teacup-loving Betty Baumgarten and Fernanda (her comfort llama); or Dottie, our angry postmistress; or Coral, of course, warm, generous, voluptuous Coral, the human embodiment of a cinnamon bun. I could go on, but you get the drift: Good assassins do not go around looking lethal, which is why none of our honey pots looked like she’d gut you in the dark. I had learned the hard way that, in Rocky Start, it’s very difficult to tell who is coming to kill you.

Jackie looked skeptical, but she had cake and I kept going, so she didn’t interrupt.

“Everybody here has a history, but the two original founders—one was Pike, the old guy you just met, Coral’s man—kept Outsiders out and the law within. Then five weeks ago, the other founder, my boss Ozzie, was murdered, and all hell broke loose. This town has secrets that people want, and history has come calling. We were just getting that under control when we found out there was a serial killer in town, unleashed because Ozzie had died. But we found the killer and that’s over.”

“And where is the serial killer now?” Jackie said, suddenly uninterested in her cake.

“Not here!” I said. Cheerfully! “No longer a problem!”

I beamed at her, determined she was going to be a pal. A long-term pal who could put my friends and loved ones back together when they were bleeding.

She looked unconvinced. “And the assassins who live here?”

I smiled again. Cheery Boost! “Oh, they’re all retired. Mostly.”

“Mostly,” Jackie said, and I was trying to think of a way to say “All of them, really, the ones that were active are dead” when she added, “And is this Luke one of them?”

Ooooh, good question.

“I don’t know what Luke was,” I said, only lying a little. I knew he’d worked with Max at least once, but I wasn’t sure what he’d done, except that it had probably been brutal and hard. “He’s been in this town for the past ten years, raising his son alone, single father, runs his own woodworking business, which is very successful, beautiful furniture, great guy, and now his son is about to go to Harvard, so he’s going to have empty nest syndrome.” I tried to make it sound like Luke was going to need some help. Like a doctor. “He makes really beautiful handmade furniture. And he’s an assistant coach for the Bearton High football team. Everybody loves Luke. Did I mention he’s a widower?”

I was trying to make Luke sound like a hero from a romance novel, which was kind of true, but also kind of not because there was nothing romantic about Rocky Start.

“What is he going to do with the body he took?” Jackie said.

I thought about lying and then decided she might as well know the truth. “There’s a funeral parlor down the street.”

“Merriweather’s or Nice Funerals?” Jackie said. “They’re both closed.”

“Yes, Merriweather’s owner was murdered three weeks ago, but we have a key and the woman who inherited it is a friend. The body will be in there in cold storage.”

“Two funeral parlors?” Jackie said. “That seems—pardon the expression—overkill.”

“Well, unfortunately, Geoffrey Nice, who owned Nice Funerals, was the serial killer I mentioned earlier, and he is no longer with us. Actually, he’s in the basement at Merriweather’s, too. So, we’re without a mortician at the moment.” This was sounding worse and worse.

There was a long pause while Jackie studied me, and then she said, “So it’s the Wild West here.” She didn’t sound approving.

“We have law here,” I said. “We are all lawful now. Really, it was boring here before Ozzie died. Ozzie made sure nothing interesting happened. We were all very bored. In a good way. Ozzie was a good, good man.” And a man with big secrets, but I didn’t care. He’d saved me and my kid and he was always going to be my hero.

“You must miss him,” Jackie said.

“Every damn day.”

Jackie nodded. “And now Pike is the law.”

“Mostly Pike. He’s trying to get Luke and Max to take over, but Max isn’t here at the moment and Luke isn’t interested.”

Jackie frowned at me. “Who’s Max?”

Maggs picked up her head and looked at me, and I told her, “Not yet, but soon,” and she put her head back on her paws.

“That’s complicated,” I told Jackie because who could explain Max? “For right now, the important stuff is that Rocky Start is an odd town, but it’s a good one to settle down in, very safe, we take care of our own, Luke is a wonderful guy, and we’d love to have a doctor move here. You, for instance.”

“You just told me the town is full of killers.”

“Not full,” I protested. “Maybe ten percent or so. Twenty or thirty people, tops. Maybe forty. And retired killers. They’re all retired. We don’t kill each other. ” Usually. “They all worked for our government; they weren’t just rando serial killers.” Well, one had been, but he was dead now, so no point in beating that to death. “Nobody would hurt you; in fact this is one of the safest towns in the world. Also, we need a doctor too much for anyone to touch you, they’d protect you to the end. Plus, you’d have a thriving practice, a lot of people would come in from Bearton since their clinic just closed. There’s a real doctor shortage now. And we need one more than anybody else.”

“Because of the killers,” Jackie said.

She seemed stuck on that detail.

I shook my head. “Like I said, we don’t kill each other. The problem is the Outsiders. People who come to town with evil intent, like the woman who attacked Coral. There aren’t that many, though, really. None for decades. Ozzie and Pike had a rep that kept them away. But then Ozzie died, and . . . it’s just been a really bad autumn. It’ll pass,” I ended with, trying for optimism.

“Are you sane?” Jackie said, more bemused than angry.

“No,” I said. “I’ve been living here for almost twenty years, and the years before that were odd, too. I don’t have the energy for sanity, I’m just trying to get by on practical and Cheerful. Although I’m thinking of giving up Cheerful. That’s a complete waste of time.”

Jackie nodded as if that made perfect sense and went back to her cake, and I knew I had my work cut out for me.

“Luke is really a great guy,” I said, and she rolled her eyes at me.

“So,” she said as she scraped the last of the butter cake off her plate. “About Sid Quill.”

“Are you related?” I said. “I mean, both of you being named Quill.”

“Evidently we shared a great-grandfather who disowned one of his sons, my grandfather for marrying a Black woman,” Jackie said. “My father never talked much about his family, so I never met Sid. Now, about the stuff in the basement . . .”

I sighed and Maggs lifted her head to make sure I was okay. I smiled and nodded at her and stirred my rapidly cooling tea, and began to explain Sid Quill to Jackie.

That was going to take a while.