Five
The Canceled Killer’s ninth victim was a slumlord accused of making his residents live in rat-infested buildings without heat. He lived in a multimillion-dollar penthouse paid for by the poor. He was locked in the basement of one of his own buildings near a furnace leaking carbon monoxide.
—Crime Hive podcast
Jude wasn’t wearing a bow tie—his usual dress-up attire—thank God, but he did have a half-zip sweater that looked straight out of the Eddie Bauer scientist catalog, and it matched his square black-framed glasses.
He definitely had sexy nerd set to stun.
Maybe Kenzie had molded him somehow by steering him to slightly better clothes or time at the gym. Whatever she’d done, it suited him.
Jude gave Mel a nod, and she flashed him a smile, even as Benji came up, tail wagging with excitement. He hopped up on his back legs and put his small paws on Jude’s jeans. Jude bent down and gave Benji an enthusiastic scratch behind the ears.
“Hey there, Benjamin,” he said, greeting the dog with his formal name. “And… hi there, El.” He nodded at me. “Still talking about murder and mayhem in public?”
Jude’s tone always hovered somewhere between annoyed and superior, because that’s where he spent most of his emotional life. Yet, I kind of liked it. I couldn’t tell you why.
“Where else would I talk about it? In private just makes it weird,” I quipped, and Jude raised a concerned eyebrow.
Gary cleared his throat. “How ya doing, Doc?” he asked, clapping Jude on the back.
“Fine,” Jude said, absorbing the blow.
“I heard you got your PhD,” Bill said. “Do we call you Dr. Cheese now?”
Gary burst out laughing.
“I prefer Dr. Curds and Whey, thank you very much,” Jude corrected.
Bill groaned.
“Too much of a mouthful,” I argued.
“That’s what cheese said,” Jude added. He wasn’t even a dad, but he had all the dad jokes at the ready.
We all groaned. “Not the puns!” I sighed. “I thought you liked us.”
“Oh, come on. It’s gouda be fine.” He flashed a mischievous grin.
“Seriously, stop,” I warned him.
“Okay,” he said, deadpan. “I’ll take it cheesy.”
“I am going to punch you.”
“Please do,” Bill grumbled beneath his breath.
“Put us outta our misery,” Gary commiserated.
“Ouch. Don’t make me cheddar tear.” Jude grinned at me.
Gary and Bill finally laughed at Jude’s sheer persistence. Puns and goofy dad jokes were the kind of sweet idiosyncrasies tolerated in Lake Sanguis. In Chicago, they’d get you mugged on the El.
“Hey, I been meaning to ask you about the listeria outbreak at Gordon’s,” Bill said.
“Oh, yeah,” Jude said, nodding quickly. “Listeria can kill. It’s a kind of bacteria that acts as an intracellular parasite in mammals, and—”
“Save the science, please, Bill Nye,” I said and groaned.
“So you can chat about strangulation, but listeria is off the table? Interesting.” He flashed me a smile that made my stomach feel funny. And it wasn’t because of the listeria in Gordon’s Frozen Custard, because I hadn’t had any.
Where was Russo, anyway? I glanced up at the clock. Just after six now. He should be here any minute.
“What can I get you, Doc?” Mel asked Jude.
“I’ll wait, I think. I’m meeting someone.”
We all turned to look at Jude.
“Me too,” I said quickly, and then everyone swiveled to look at me. I tried not to be offended that they seemed more surprised about me having plans.
“Who are you meeting?” Jude asked, a raised eyebrow the only indication he didn’t 100 percent believe me.
“You first,” I dared him.
A sly smile crossed Jude’s face. “Are you really wanting to know?”
Yes. “No,” I lied, as I snuck another glance at the bar’s door.
“Well then, I won’t tell you.” He leaned closer and I got a whiff of something delightful. Hair product? Aftershave? Smoky amber. Rich and warm. “Your brother’s worried about you,” he said, voice low. “You doing okay?”
I leaned back. “Oscar sent you to check up on me?”
“No,” Jude said, shaking his head, but I didn’t quite believe him.
It would be something Oscar might do: send his faithful lackey out to babysit his paranoid little sister.
Make sure she doesn’t start ranting about a serial killer in public and embarrass the town sheriff.
“Your brother has a tough election coming up, that’s all. ”
“Why do you say that?”
“For one, he actually has an opponent this time. One of his own deputies.”
I was surprised Oscar hadn’t mentioned this.
“Who?”
“Hector Martinez. He’s popular in town.”
“That’s not always a compliment,” I said, thinking about Stokes.
“Hector is a good guy. Competent. Hardworking. He’s serious competition,” Jude said. “And you know the sheriff’s job is everything to Oscar.”
I felt a pang of guilt. I did know that.
“Can I interest anyone in a pickled mushroom? Fresh from the jar,” Mel said, interrupting.
It was then that I remembered the Holy Water’s signature snacks came from Mel’s wife’s mushroom farm.
I instantly recoiled from the small bowl and toothpick dispenser she offered.
I hated mushrooms. It was a texture thing, but also it was a fungus thing.
Why should I get excited about eating something whose cousin grew between toes in sweaty socks?
“Better point those somewhere else,” Jude said, stepping between me and the offered bowl of mushrooms, gently pushing Mel’s bowl away from me.
“This one is scared of mushrooms.” Jude’s voice carried the hint of a mocking tone, but there was a part of me flattered that he remembered.
“Maybe put those at the end of the bar, just to be safe.” Jude held my gaze for a beat, a smile teasing the corner of his mouth.
“I officially saved your life just then.”
“Oh? Do you want a medal or…?” I taunted.
“Yes, shiny and gold, the bigger, the better.”
I glanced at the clock. Russo was late. Where was he?
A loud slam of a door near us made everyone’s head swivel as Alec Stokes, the mayor, staggered out of the restroom, his ginger poof of hair disheveled, though his dark navy polo and khakis looked ironed and pristine.
He wore boat shoes and no socks, and had the air of a man who liked to complain about who they were letting into the golf club these days.
Benji bolted and ran behind the bar in a blur of golden fur. Good choice.
“Don’t go in there,” he declared, waving his hand in front of his face.
Jude groaned. Inwardly, so did I.
“Thin Ice!” Stokes cried as he noticed me for the first time.
His wavy red hair, which looked more like a Brillo pad than anything else, hadn’t change a bit since high school.
“You’re a smokeshow tonight!” He rubbed his hands together as if I were a slab of barbecue ribs he planned to eat.
“Almost as hot as your mom was back in the day.”
Exactly what the daughter of a supermodel wanted to hear.
“Is this your plus-one? Really?” Jude glanced at me, shocked.
“Absolutely not,” I hissed.
“Tammy told me you’re single and ready to mingle,” Stokes said as he slid over to me, blowing acrid beer breath in my face. “What say you buy me a beer?”
“This will not end well,” Jude predicted.
“You want me to buy you a beer?” Honestly. The gall.
“Uh-oh, Mel. Best move the tables out of the way, because the mayor’s going through one,” Bill warned.
Gary just snorted.
“I’m not going to buy you a beer, but I will break your nose again if you keep hassling me,” I promised. I was not kidding.
“Oh, come on, I’m just kidding around. Can’t you take a joke?” Alec said with derision, as if all the evils of the world could be traced back to humorless women. Alec kept his beady eyes on me. “But, if you want to buy me a beer, I wouldn’t object.”
“Some people never learn.” Bill sighed and took a swig of his beer.
“Call the paper, Bill’s actually right about something,” Gary said and laughed a little.
Mel threw a tea towel over her shoulder. “Mayor, leave her alone,” Mel warned.
“What? Can’t I catch up with an old friend?
I’m trying to give her a compliment—” Stokes made the grave mistake of putting his hand on my shoulder.
I grabbed his wrist out of pure instinct and, in seconds, twisted it so hard, he dropped down to one knee.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like watching the fear flicker in his eyes.
“I don’t think the lady likes your compliments,” Jude said dryly.
“Ow! What the fu—” I twisted harder and Stokes yelped louder. If I went further, I could tear all the ligaments in his wrist. I was tempted. I itched to hear the sound of them popping.
“Your call, El, but maybe wait until you’ve been home a whole week before you put the mayor in the hospital,” Jude suggested in a cool, logical tone that cut straight through my red-hot anger and deflated it, like the Hulk being calmed down by Black Widow.
“Fine,” I growled, and released the mayor. Jude always liked to spoil my fun.
Stokes grabbed his wrist and scuttled back a few feet. “I should press charges!” he declared, like the scared little boy he was. Unease flickered across his face.
“Do you know who I am now?” he whined to me.
Jude sniffed. “I think the problem is she does know who you are.”
“I won’t be disrespected like this in my own town,” he said as if the town belonged exclusively to him and no one else. Give me a reason, I wanted to beg him. Any reason at all.
And then, like an autumn miracle, he did. He reached out and grabbed my arm. Muscle memory from years in the dojo took over, and I swept his leg with mine. Stokes went flailing, in a flurry of bright orange hair, as one boat shoe went flying. He landed flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him.
Bill and Gary guffawed.
None of us heard the church door open and close.
“I leave you alone for one minute,” came the voice of Russo, who’d made it to my side in three strides. The sharp tailored suit jacket only enhanced the broadness of his chest with the shirt underneath unbuttoned just enough to show the tempting hollow of his throat.