Chapter 20
Two victims. From two different worlds.
In her office, the lamps lit, night closing in beyond the windows, Nikki thought about Mavis Greenlee, an icon of Savannah society, childless, rich, and outwardly living the perfect life.
A woman who’d once had an affair with Nikki’s own father, which, of course, did bother her, though it had been decades before and Big Ron was long dead.
A woman who was divorced twice and whose third marriage was on the rocks.
She leaned back in her desk chair and wiggled the pen in her fingers, clicking it on and off as she thought about Billy Huber.
Unlike Mavis, he’d wed just once, was a father, and a collector of all oddities, a hoarder, who made no bones about getting along with anyone and was in debt up to his eyeballs and beyond.
The only thing they had in common was that no one liked them. Not their families, not their neighbors, and not their so-called friends.
As far as Nikki could see, the only person who had crossed both their paths was Westin Stark, the preacher at All Christian.
But while Mavis Greenlee was very much a part of the church community, Billy Huber hadn’t set foot through the wide double doors leading to the vestibule since he buried his wife.
At least as far as Nikki knew from her conversations with other parishioners and Westin Stark himself.
The reverend.
The reformed sinner.
The born-again Christian.
A man with a mean streak that ran deep.
She chewed on her lip and tossed her pen onto the desk.
Reverend Stark wasn’t the connection.
He was just the only person who seemed to know both victims, and he was a person Nikki still didn’t like.
“Get over yourself,” she said aloud, and Arlo, ever-vigilant, was on his feet in an instant.
While his fur was starting to grow in near his tail, he still looked a little ragtag. But she loved him.
The shepherd had taken to her since she’d brought him home to become a part of the family.
Mikado had accepted the newcomer after a few days, and now they spent their days together.
Phee, who loved all things animal and was currently praying nightly for a horse, had fallen in love with Arlo, and Chloe had been delighted with another pet.
Even Pierce had grudgingly admitted that he “kind of” liked the dog.
The only real holdout was Jennings, who avoided Arlo as if he were a demon sent straight from hell.
Only when the dog was occupied elsewhere would the tabby deign to sit on Nikki’s lap and not treat her as if she were a traitor.
“You’ll get used to him,” Nikki had assured him just three days earlier, but when Arlo had bounded into the room, Jennings had hissed and scrambled away, clawing so desperately that he’d scratched Nikki through her shorts.
Jennings might never truly accept him.
So be it.
Getting nowhere on the case, she decided to call it a night, heading down the spiral stairs to the second floor, where she checked on Chloe, who was sleeping soundly in the glow of an angel night-light.
How could this little girl have changed her life so deeply?
Nikki had lived over thirty years without her, and now, at the thought of ever losing her …
well, she just wouldn’t even consider it.
Heart full, she bent down and kissed Chloe’s soft cheek and watched in wonder as the little girl’s lips moved a bit.
“Sweet dreams,” she whispered, nearly tripping over Mikado on her way out, as he was curled up near the crib.
In the hallway, she noticed flickering light beneath Lily’s door.
Nikki rapped softly, opening the door and sticking her head into the room.
Her sister was propped up in her bed, her floral duvet tucked around her as she read from a paperback.
The corner TV was tuned to some DIY home repair show, the volume muted while Phee was fast asleep in a twin bed positioned beneath the window.
“Hey,” Nikki said softly, and Lily looked up and motioned her inside.
“Just wanted to say good night and let you know I’ll be out tomorrow evening again.”
“So you have a hot date, or else you’re doing some investigating.”
“It’s the hot date; don’t tell my husband,” Nikki joked, then thought of Archer Greenlee and his affair, and, of course, Mavis’s long-ago involvement with their father. She pushed that particular thought from her mind. “Can you watch Chloe?”
“No problem.” Lily dog-eared the page, then set her book aside.
From the looks of the cover, it was another romantasy novel, Lily’s new favorite genre, which blended romance with fantasy.
“I’ve got errands in the morning, and I’ll take Chloe, then after her nap, I’ll pick up Phee from school,” Lily agreed.
“Maybe you can run them to horseback lessons to give me a break. I’m in serious need of a mani-pedi.
” She showed off her unpolished fingernails. “See? And then you can do dinner.”
“It’s a deal,” Nikki agreed, as she sat on a corner of the bed.
Chloe loved going to the stables, though she had more interest in the ponies and llamas and goats than in watching her cousin learn how to ride.
But now, because of Annabelle Van Camp’s intimacy with Archer Greenlee and her willingness to talk, Nikki had a renewed interest in Westside Riding Stables.
Though she’d crossed Archer off the suspect list, he still knew Mavis, supposedly better than anyone, and as Tom Fink was always suggesting, a lot could be learned from “pillow talk.” Maybe Archer had said something to Annabelle, though that was unlikely.
“We’ll finalize plans in the morning.” She picked up the book. “This any good?”
“Well, it’s not a Nikki Gillette crime story, but yeah, it’s great.” Lily grinned. “Especially if you like mean fairies and war and take-no-prisoners heroines. And let’s not forget the heroes to die for.”
“If you say so.”
“Like I said, not like yours.”
“Don’t remind me about my next book. Ina’s all over me about it.” She tossed Lily’s novel back onto the bed.
“Something about making hay while the sun shines?”
“Actually, she brought up the age-old ‘striking while the iron is hot’ cliché.”
“I like that better,” Lily said, tapping the cover of her novel. “Something they literally do in this one.”
“Perfect.”
“And it was also a euphemism for … you know.” Lily wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Yeah, I do know, and now I’ll never forget it. Speaking of which, did you know Dad had an affair with Mavis Greenlee?”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t surprise me. Who didn’t he have one with? Who told you? Mom?”
“Yeah. And she’s not forgiven either one of them.”
“That’s Mom. Never lets go of a grudge. What’s the old saying? That a grudge only hurts the one who’s holding it or something? No, wait, I think it was Carrie Fisher who said something about resentment being like drinking poison and hoping the other person would die?”
“Sounds about right.” But she thought about the saying and applied it to Mavis Greenlee and Billy Huber.
Who would have a grudge deep enough to kill them and then stage the scene?
It hadn’t been good enough to take their lives.
Whoever was behind their murders held a deep-seated anger and was making a point.
She just had to figure out what that point was, and then she could connect the killings and hopefully unmask the sicko behind them.
She climbed to her feet and glanced to the bed, where Phee, hair wild on her pillow, was sleeping. With one arm flung over the edge of the bed, her iPad discarded on the carpet, and her covers bunched around her waist, she sighed and rolled over.
“They’re so innocent and angelic when they sleep.”
“I know. Looks can be deceiving, can’t they?
” Lily said with a chuckle, as Nikki whispered, “Good night,” and headed to her own bedroom, where Arlo was waiting, lying on his dog bed.
He lifted his head, his gaze following her as she changed into pajamas, then walked into the bathroom, where she piled her hair onto her head and washed her face.
He thumped his tail when she returned and, for once, obeyed when she pointed to him and whispered, “Stay.” Somewhere along the line, someone, maybe even Billy Huber, had taught the dog some commands.
She hurried downstairs and found Pierce in the den, shoulders hunched as he stared at his computer screen.
“Hey, Detective,” she whispered into his ear. “Maybe it’s time to call it a night?”
“Just a few minutes.” He was tense. She saw it in the muscles at the back of his neck, the taut way his shirt stretched over his shoulders. The case and the lack of progress was getting to him.
To both of them.
She’d been hearing from Fink that she needed to come up with an in-depth story on the cases, as the Sentinel was keeping the story alive. It had been several weeks since Billy Huber’s body had been found, over two for Mavis Greenlee’s murder.
“All work and no play …,” she said, leaning over his back and wrapping her arms around his neck.
“You should talk.”
“I know, but come on up to bed.” Her head was next to his, and she brushed a kiss over his ear.
“You’ve got twenty minutes to cut that out,” he said, and she laughed, but her gaze had traveled to the computer screen, where he was reading an e-mail.
“What’s that?”
“Private police business.”
“About—?”
“Nikki,” he warned.
“We have a deal.”
He sighed. “It’s nothing really. I’m waiting for a report about the stones we found at the scene, and it hasn’t come through yet.”
“What kind of report?”
He clicked off the screen and turned around so that he was facing her. “Let it go. The report’s been hung up due to some technical problem in the lab and the fact that the main lab assistant is down with the flu. Information we should have had weeks ago.”
“You’re dodging.”
He pressed a finger tip to her nose. “And you’re pushing. If something big happens, I’ll let you know.”
“Will you?”