Kasey Michaels: High Heels and Homicide

«Really. And what, pray tell, prompted this confrontation?»

She sobered and stepped away from him. «You did, Alex. I couldn't stand the look in your eyes every time Mom yelled and I went running like some Pavlov dog. And I could see that muscle working in your jaw whenever Tate started on one of his damn lectures. I'd had enough. I mean, not coming home? Avoiding them? That's not the answer. I had something to say, and I finally said it. I'm a big girl now, all grown up, and I've got to stop reacting like some intimidated child.»

«Remarkable,» Saint Just said, longing to take her in his arms. She looked so free , so very liberated. He'd been very worried she'd suffer a backward slide, reach for the solace of Dame Nicotine while upset, but she hadn't. She'd gone on the offensive. «Would that I could have been there, my dear.»

«No, no. This one I had to do on my own.» She narrowed her eyes. «And I was brilliant . Oh, yes. B-r-i-double-l- brilliant! I tell you, I sliced him into a million pieces, and he's so thick he didn't even realize it until he tried to walk and came apart like a string of paper dolls. I think I want to go back, take on Maureen, tell her it's time she stopped being a mouse and got a life. You know, while I'm on a roll.»

«Oh, I really don't think so,» Saint Just said, pulling her arm through his and heading them both off down the beach. «One victory a day should be sufficient. And my congratulations. Your brother is a bit of a twit. Not enough to expend my energy on, but certainly no one who should be able to cow my own dear Maggie.»

«And I was good,'» Maggie said, leaning her head against his shoulder. Then, suddenly, she sobered, this being-high-on-life business obviously a tad transitory. «Oh, boy, now I've got to go back, and Maureen will have run tattling to Mom, and all hell's going to break loose. Quick, drown me.»

«I have a better suggestion, if you don't mind. You and Sterling and I could drive up the coast, to Atlantic City. I understand the trip is no more than eight miles and there are baccarat tables in every casino. Much akin to faro, I believe, or at least close enough as makes no matter.»

And that's how it came to pass that after turning in the rental SUV at Philadelphia International Airport, Saint Just embarked upon his first airplane ride with a six-figure cashier's check tucked in his pocket.

He left behind a small thank-you gift for his hostess, a five-carat diamond tennis braclet hidden inside a long velvet box tied with a silver ribbon.

It was silly, a petty revenge, but he doubted that Tate's floral excess looked quite so good to Mrs. Kelly anymore. Of course, if Maggie ever found out he'd put her name on the card, the entire world would not be large enough for him to hide in—but as duels were frowned upon, and punching the arrogant fool's lights out would only upset everyone needlessly, thoroughly trumping the man's magnolia would have to suffice.

We're on a booh, we're on a hook. The plane goes up, the hook comes out, it attaches to the line, and we're on the hook until we land. It's just a big bus, no, an old trolley car. And we're on a hook…

«Maggie? Do you intend to release that death grip you have on the arms of your seat and open your eyes? We've been in the air for at least five hours. I don't think anything untoward is going to happen.»

«Don't bother me, Alex, I'm meditating,» she said, opening her eyes only slightly, not moving her head as she shifted her gaze toward him. «And don't look out there. I never look out there. If I look out, and down, then the plane will drop. I'm holding this thing up with sheer willpower, and you should be damn grateful. Stop it! How can you keep looking out there?»

«It's elementary, actually. I turn my head toward the window, and I look . But you're correct. There's nothing much in the way of a view, save the clouds below us. I once partook in a balloon ascension in Hyde Park, as you know, but that was tame indeed when compared to modern jet flight.»

He leaned across her and spoke to Sterling, whose seat was on the other side of the aisle. «Enjoying yourself, Sterling?»

Sterling's grin was heartwarmingly naive, in Maggie's opinion, clearly that of a man who didn't understand the dangers of flight. «Oh, yes, Saint Just. Have you made use of the facilities? You really should. Completely fascinating… although one does wonder where everything, um, goes .»

«Some of us wonder, Sterling. Others of us do not,» Alex said as Maggie giggled. «I'm so gratified that you're amused, my dear. While you've been meditating, as you call it, Sterling here has been running amok in the aisles. I think we, in the role of parents, will soon be considering putting him in leading strings.»

«Oh, let him alone,» Maggie said, reaching over to pat Sterling's hand. «You're enjoying yourself?»

Sterling nodded. «I've located all of the emergency exits, and I know that my seat cushion serves as a flotation device, and that I should put on my air mask when it drops down, then place one on my child.»

«You don't have a child, Sterling,» Maggie pointed out.

«True. I'll concede that. But I am prepared.» He held out a small bag. «Pretzel?»

«Thanks, but no. I think we land soon, if I adjusted my watch correctly. Now, Bernie told me Heathrow Airport is a real zoo…»

«With—»

«Figuratively speaking,» Maggie added quickly, before Sterling, always so literal, would ask if they had monkeys and elephants. «So we stick together, find our way to the luggage carousel, look for the limo the production company arranged for us, and get the heck out of there as fast as we can. Then it's a straight shot south to Surrey and Medwine Manor, or so I'm told. Any questions?»

Sterling raised his hand. «Won't we have time to see London at all?»

«Yes, Maggie, it's unseemly to just rush about and not at least take a drive through London. I very much want to see Carleton House again. Such a magnificent grand staircase, and the Prince Regent entertained lavishly.»

«Um, Alex? They tore down Carleton House sometime in the eighteen-twenties. They tore down a lot of places. We're not landing in Regency London. I'm sorry, but except for palaces and Parliament and all that stuff, you won't know this London a whole lot more than you knew Manhattan when you first got there. They've got McDonald's here now.»

Alex was quiet for some moments, then said, «I think we should like to see it, in any case. And, much as you may naysay me, I most especially wish to visit a particular establishment a few steps off Threadneedle Street. As your research is always so very much on the mark and the family has been serving at the pleasure of his majesty since the sixteen hundreds, I am going to assume the shop is still there in one form or another.»

«What kind of shop?»

«One devoted to the best in umbrellas and walking sticks. Very specialized sticks, if you take my meaning. You know I was forced to leave my cane in New York, what with the metal detectors at the airport.»

Maggie sat back in her seat, blew out her breath, recited mentally: Saint Just is Saint Just . «A sword cane. You want another sword cane. Is that really necessary?»

«You'd have me go naked in my homeland?»

«Oh, cut me a break. Whoa!» she said, grabbing the seat arms in a death grip as her stomach lurched. «Damn it, I hate when they do that.»

«Do what, my dear? And may I say, your usually healthy complexion has gone rather white.»

«Do what? You mean you didn't feel that? The pilot's putting on the air brakes—I think that's what they're called—because we're making our descent. I know, in my head, that he's probably dropping us down from a billion miles per hour to a million miles per hour, but it feels like we're stopping. Thirty-five thousand feet up, and the guy's slamming on the brakes like he's trying to avoid a deer in the road. I hate that.»