Perfectly Matched Read online

  My head started to hurt. “How would he solve the crime if he’s the one doing it?”

  “By having a fall guy,” Sean said, his voice flat.

  “Like the victim in the hospital,” Curt added. “The one who wasn’t supposed to live.”

  I let the information sink in. “So is someone framing Sean?”

  “Maybe,” Curt said. “Or maybe not.”

  That was clear.

  “But now the investigation is going to focus on Sean, right?”

  “Looks that way,” Curt said.

  “So whoever is setting these fires is going to get away scot-free.”

  “Not if I can help it,” Sean said.

  Curt leaned in. “That’s why I came today. To advise you to lay low. If your search for the arsonist and the arsonist’s path overlap, the investigators are still going to have you on their radar. Stay out of this, Sean. I’m asking you as a friend.”

  Staring into his mug, Sean said, “I’ll think about it.”

  He was lying. I could tell by the tone of his voice. He was simply placating instead of arguing.

  I suspected Curt knew so, too.

  He threw another look over his shoulder. “I should go. It wouldn’t be good for us to be seen together.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Did you get an ID on the victim of last night’s fire?”

  “Yeah. Just a kid, only twenty-two. Petty crimes. Purse-snatchings, shoplifting, that kind of thing. The investigators think he was hired to steal your purse, and the arsonist was going to use him to take the blame for the fires.”

  I couldn’t even fathom that the investigators believed that person was Sean.

  “He’s going to live?” Sean asked.

  “Fifty-fifty. Right now he’s in a medically induced coma. Hopefully, when he wakes up he’ll be able to ID the person who hired him.”

  Curt’s eyes lasered in on Sean, and for a split second I had the feeling that Curt didn’t believe in Sean’s innocence.

  “Did you find out if there was a matchstick at the DCF fire?” I asked.

  “There wasn’t one that was found,” he said, “but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t one there.”

  Big help that was.

  Standing, Curt said, “Think about what I said about lying low.”

  Sean nodded, and Curt turned and walked out the door.

  We sat side by side for a few silent minutes. Anger pulsed through me.

  “What’s going through your pretty little head, Ms. Valentine?” Sean finally asked.

  “Screw Curt’s advice. We have to find this guy.”

  Sean’s lip twitched before he broke into a wide smile. “That’s my girl.”

  “And then we’re going to make him pay.”

  “Now who’s the vindictive one?” he asked.

  I grinned. “You’ve taught me well.”

  ***

  “Drink this,” I said, shoving a bottle of water into Preston’s hand. “You look like you’re going to pass out again.”

  She leaned back on my couch and twisted the cap off the water. I leaned my crutches against the hearth and dropped into my favorite chair. Grendel immediately hopped into my lap and meowed until I rubbed his ears and scratched his back.

  “The arsonist is after Sam?” Preston said, her face still pale. “I mean, I’ve been reading about the Beantown Burner, but I had no idea how close to home the story hit. Where is Sam now?”

  “He’s been hiding with Raphael.” Sun peeked out from behind fluffy clouds and sent sunbeams streaming in the large windows of my living room. “But right now he and Sean are together, trying to come up with a bigger list of suspects.”

  Thoreau looked up from his spot on the floor, where he was basking in the sunshine. He yawned and put his head back onto his paws and closed his eyes. He looked as peaceful as could be, and I suddenly envied him for that.

  I couldn’t recall the last time I’d been truly stress-free.

  I propped my booted foot up on the coffee table and reached down for Grendel’s comb in the basket of his toys next to the chair.

  “You should have told me,” Preston said. A pout pulled the corners of her kewpie lips downward.

  “If you hadn’t snuck out of the hospital last night, you would have already known.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “But Lucy... Dr. Death. I had to get out of there.”

  I noticed her face still didn’t hold any color. “Did you make a follow-up appointment with your family doctor? Because you don’t look too well.”

  “I love you, too,” she said sarcastically.

  “You know what I mean.” I rocked in my chair as I combed Grendel’s fur. His purrs vibrated against my stomach. “I’m starting to worry.”

  She set the water bottle on the table. “Well, don’t. I’m fine. It was just all that death. It got to me after a while.”

  I could understand that.

  “Dr. Paul got to me,” she added. “I can’t believe you don’t think he’s creepy.”

  I wasn’t about to admit I kind of liked him. “Is this about the skull collection?” I explained what he had said. And how yes, technically, he lived with his mother, but it was in a duplex. Each owned a side.

  “Well, he’s lying to you, Lucy.”

  I stopped rocking. “About what?”

  “Those skulls.” A guilty flush climbed her neck. It was nice to see some color brighten her up a bit. “I have a friend of a friend of a friend and he did me a favor.”

  Oh no. “What did you do?” Because I could tell it was something big.

  She examined a fingernail. “He hacked into the hospital’s system and counted all the death certificates Dr. Paul has signed off on. It’s the exact number of skulls he’s collected. How do you explain that? The exact number?”

  “You counted the skulls?”

  Another guilty flush. She was starting to look downright rosy. “Yes! I snuck back in there this afternoon, before I came here. I had to be sure.”

  I focused on Grendel’s tail, gently tugging out the knots with the comb. His tail fluffed out, looking a lot like an orange feather duster. “Be sure of what?”

  “Hello,” she said. “That he’s a serial killer?”

  “Maybe it’s a coincidence,” I said, not believing it even as the words came out of my mouth.

  “Right.”

  “Okay,” I admitted. “That’s creepy. But it doesn’t make him a serial killer.” I hoped. I would hate to think my instincts about him could be so wrong.

  “You need to get out of that Diviner Whiner group. Whack jobs, every last one of them, including your crazy leader.” She blinked at me. “Well, except for you.”

  I thought about Annie. When I went to call her back, I realized that I’d left her number at my father’s penthouse. I tried calling her store, but no one answered. I also tried Suz, who told me that she deleted all Annie’s calls, and defended the fact that even though she had listened to a bazillion messages, she hadn’t memorized the phone number.

  Annie was just going to have to wait. “You’re still mad at Orlinda, I see.”

  Her lip jutted. “Why can’t she just tell me what the big upheaval is? It’s ridiculous to make me wait and see.”

  I dropped the comb back into the basket and told Grendel how handsome he was. He purred happily. Studying Preston, I dove head first into some tricky water. “Do you think the big upheaval has to do with Cutter?”

  “What makes you say that?” she snapped.

  Repressing a smile, I shrugged. “I don’t know. You two are getting pretty serious.”

  “Are not.”

  Maybe Cutter was right about Preston’s disposition lately. She had engagement anxiety. I thought about his silence when I asked him if he’d considered proposing and had the feeling Preston had no need to worry.

  She stood up, and I noticed she was a bit wobbly. She tried to cover it with a stretch, but when she did that, I noticed how thin she was. “Have you been eating okay?”
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br />   “Like a horse,” she said, walking to the fridge as if to prove a point. She opened the door and scanned the shelves.

  I knew that wasn’t true. She admitted yesterday at the hospital that she hadn’t eaten all day. What was going on with her?

  “I can make you some eggs,” I said, hearing a bit of Dovie in my voice. She was a caretaker, a nurturer, and apparently she’d passed that trait along to me.

  “That’s okay. I’m not really hungry. I had a bagel on the way over here.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  She came back into the living room and said, “Don’t you mmm-hmm me, Lucy Valentine.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “You’re impossible.” She went to sit down, but something caught her eye.

  Crossing the room, she took the pink bear out of the bassinet. Before I’d told her about the arsonist, I filled her in about the visions I had with the bear.

  “Have you heard from Orlinda?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I’ve called many times, and I know Graham and Dr. Paul have tried to reach her, too. She’s not getting back to us.”

  Preston frowned. “Isn’t that unusual?”

  I opened my mouth then snapped it closed again. It was strange, as she had always been prompt in getting back to us. “I figured it was because she was at a convention, but now I’m a bit worried.”

  Gently, she placed the bear back into the bassinet. “Let me work on it. I’ll track her down. I have some questions I want to run by her for the article, too. The sooner I get that thing done, the better.”

  She suddenly leaned forward, peering out the window behind me. “Em and Marisol are on their way down.” She squinted. “It looks like Marisol is holding a cat.”

  Marisol had called an hour ago and told me that Ebbie was just fine and that she’d bring her home.

  Home meaning here.

  And I’d realized I missed the little fur ball. “Is it black? About this big?” I said, holding my hands apart a foot.

  “Yes.”

  “That’s Ebbie.”

  “Who’s Ebbie?” Preston asked.

  “My new cat.”

  “A new cat?” She threw her hands into the air. “What else, Lucy Valentine? What else are you keeping from me?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Stop, stop, stop,” Preston said, swatting at Em’s hands as she tried to feel Preston’s forehead. “I don’t have a fever.”

  “You were asleep when I got home last night, and were gone this morning before I could look you over.”

  “I know,” Preston said. “I didn’t want to be looked over.”

  Ebbie hopped up in the chair alongside me and Grendel. She licked his face. He let her.

  “A perfect match,” Marisol said, sitting in the chair next to mine. Thoreau had awakened from his nap with all the commotion and was now sniffing everyone’s feet. “Do you think her owner will let you keep her?”

  “I thought you said she was your new cat?” Preston asked, still shooing Em away.

  “Technically, she’s Jeremy Cross’s cat. I’m just caretaking at this point.”

  “Who’s Jeremy Cross?” Preston asked on a long drawn-out, woe-is-me sigh. “And why are you caretaking.”

  I told them all about Jeremy and his animal communication skills. And how Ebbie said that I was the one who’d find him his true love.

  “Not another psychic,” Preston said, standing up. “I can’t take anymore of you. I’m going. I’ll let you know about Orlinda.”

  “Oh, before you go,” Em said. “Girls night tomorrow at Dovie’s. You in?”

  “Are you bringing your stethoscope?” Preston asked oh-so-sweetly.

  “No,” Em said.

  “Then I’m in.” With a wave, she sailed out the door.

  Em looked at me. “She’s lost a lot of weight and her color is off.”

  “I know, but I can’t seem to get her to agree to see a doctor.”

  Marisol said, “Get Cutter involved. She’ll listen to him.”

  Ebbie pressed herself against me, plastered to my ribs. With all the body heat, I was going to have to turn the air conditioning down a few more degrees. “I’ll call him. He’s supposed to be back on Saturday, but maybe he can cut his trip short.”

  I glanced at Marisol. “Ebbie’s tests were good?”

  “Perfect. I don’t think she actually ate much of the matchstick, if any. She probably just chewed on it. Keep an eye on her, though. Hopefully, she won’t eat anything else that’s not good for her.”

  Em said, “Can cats have Pica?”

  “Pica?” I asked. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a disorder that usually affects women and small kids. They eat non-nutritious items like chalk, clay, paper, that kind of thing.”

  I frowned. I couldn’t even imagine.

  “And yes,” Marisol went on, “cats can have it too. It usually means a nutrient is missing from their diet, but I tested her vitamin levels and all seem to be okay.”

  I nodded, taking in all the information.

  “And there is one more thing,” Marisol said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I may be able to find her rightful owner. You said she was a stray, remember? When Orlinda found her?”

  “Right, but how...”

  “When I brought her to the office this morning, I scanned her for a microchip. The information popped up that she’d been chipped at a clinic I volunteered at, but didn’t have any other info than the clinic’s address and phone number. I’m going to stop by there on my way home today and see if I can find her file. It probably has her adopter’s information in it.”

  I wasn’t sure how I felt about Ebbie leaving. I’d grown attached to her in just two short days. I also didn’t know how Jeremy would feel about it, and if he would rather I didn’t find out.

  Em tucked her feet under her on the couch and yawned loudly. “This heat...,” she said, lifting her hair off the back of her neck. “Makes me sleepy.”

  “Or was it your late night with Aiden?” I asked, trying to keep my mind off Sean and Sam. Had they come up with any more plausible suspects?

  “What late night?” Em said. “I was home by nine, which is why I was surprised Preston was already asleep.”

  Marisol and I glanced at each other. There was a note of disenchantment in Em’s voice. Marisol picked a piece of lint off her shorts. “Everything okay with you and Aiden?”

  “No, everything is not okay.” Em’s cheeks flamed the same color as her hair. Brighter, even. Folding her arms across her chest, she said, “He’s distracted, quiet, flustered. He must have spilled his drink three times at dinner last night, and I don’t think he heard a word I said. He asked for the check before I could order dessert and practically raced me back to Dovie’s. I don’t know what’s going on, but something is. I think it’s time for a recon mission. What do you say?”

  Marisol glowed. “You know I love a little recon. I’m game.”

  The last time there was a recon mission, Marisol and I had broken into Em’s apartment. I had enough worries on my plate right now to add to it. “You two can tell me about it.”

  Em frowned at my foot. “It would be a little hard for you to get around.”

  “And blend in,” Marisol added.

  “And I don’t think the cats would let you go,” Em said, eyeing the pile o’ cat on my lap.

  She might be right about that.

  I couldn’t imagine what was going on with Aiden. He was about as straight-laced as men came, and he absolutely adored Em. His behavior was out of the ordinary, and I was curious to see what the recon mission would uncover.

  And if it would also explain why he’d yet to call me back.

  ***

  Later that night, I stood in the doorway of my bedroom and watched Sean sleep. Ebbie and Thoreau were cuddled next to him, while Grendel sat in front of his food bowl with a hopeful expression.

  It wasn’t very late, only a bit before ten, but Sean h
ad barely been able to keep his eyes open. It had been an exhausting day for him, more mentally than physically.

  He slept peacefully now, and I hoped he’d stay that way. Most nights he tossed and turned.

  Even Odysseus seemed to take notice and worked furiously at burrowing instead of running his usual late night marathon on his wheel.

  I drew the door closed and crutched my way to the couch. My mind was spinning—too much to fall asleep.

  Sean and Sam had little luck with their brainstorming session. The ghosts they chased refused to be identified.

  Sam was back in hiding, working on trying to find out if he had siblings. So far, he’d had no luck whatsoever.

  Sean had been quiet when he returned home and stayed that way until he went to sleep.

  I sank onto the couch, and Grendel soon abandoned his food bowl and came and joined me. How do you solve a case with no leads? No suspects. Not knowing when the arsonist was going to strike next...

  I glanced up as a flash of light streaked across my windows. The sound of tires on the crushed shells came next. Someone was here.

  Carefully, I hopped over to the window and slid the drapes to the side a bit so I could peek out. The front of my cottage was well-lit, and it was easy to see who emerged from a small red hatchback.

  Annie Hendrix.

  I looked back at the bedroom, at the door slightly ajar. I didn’t want to wake Sean. Especially not with a visit from Annie, who wasn’t one of his favorite people.

  Hopping back to the couch, I bent down and picked up my crutches. I hurried back to the front door and pulled it open before she could knock.

  For a second, she simply stared at me. Her hair was frizzy and unkempt and rings of dark smudged makeup made the skin beneath her bloodshot eyes look bruised and wild.

  “You have to help me,” she cried.

  I nodded for her to back up a step, and I slipped out the door. Her tiny tank top barely held her breasts in check, and she wore a skirt so short I could practically see her uterus.

  It was quite the impression she gave.

  “Come on,” I said.

  She followed me around the wraparound porch to two cushioned chairs that overlooked the ocean. The water was calm tonight, slapping quietly against the rocks at the bottom of the bluff. Moonlight spilled across the water like milk across black granite.