Kasey Michaels: High Heels and Homicide

Saint Just looked down the street to see Steve Wendell making his way toward them with his slow, lazy shuffle of a walk, his too-long sandy-colored hair hanging in his eyes, his clothes, although well tailored, looking as if he'd slept in them. «Ah, yes, here's our impeccably groomed Beau Brummell now. To bid us a fond farewell? How very touching. But about the good left-tenant , my dear. I believe you had planned a luncheon with him, and yet when I had reason to speak with him the other day, he mentioned that he hadn't spoken with you for—»

«Bite me.»

«I look forward to it, yes.» Oh, he was a bad man. A bad, bad man. And enjoying himself immensely, as he had begun to feel a thaw in Maggie's attitude toward him these past few days. And now she'd allowed herself to be angry with him. Much more usual, and much more pleasing than her previous disappointment, disillusionment. His Maggie was a damned obstinate woman… and he adored her for it.

«Maggie,» Steve Wendell said, bending to kiss her. A polite kiss. Circumspect. Really, the man was a total loss when it came to romance. Not that Saint Just was displeased by the man's ineptitude. «Alex, Sterling. I guess you two are looking forward to getting back to jolly old England?»

Saint Just removed his quizzing glass, stuck it in his pocket. «Don't look so sad, Left-tenant . We are not passing out of your life forever. It is a visit only.»

Sterling, who had been helping Socks load luggage into the SUV, said, «I'm so looking forward to flight. Another new adventure.»

Saint Just counted to three before Wendell picked up on Sterling's verbal slip and asked, «New? But you flew over here, right?»

Maggie quickly stepped in front of Sterling. «Boat. They came by boat.» She spread her arms. « Big boat.»

«Oh, I don't think so, Maggie,» Sterling, always truth-ful, if not always astute, said, poking his head out from behind her. «I don't think I like boats. Socks took me on a boat tour around Manhattan, and I was quite queasy by the time we were done.»

«But, then, how did you—?»

«I believe that's obvious. We walked,» Saint Just slipped in quickly. «Steve, dear friend, would you be so kind as to move away from the car door, so that Sterling may settle himself. You do wish to settle yourself, don't you, Sterling?»

«Um… I might want to go upstairs one last time. Maggie tells me that with all the increased traffic that is prevalent around American holidays, and all of that, it could be several hours before we reach her parents' home, and I…»

«Yes, thank you, Sterling. I believe we understand,» Saint Just said. Socks told him he could use the restroom in the lobby, and Sterling ran back into the building. «How lovely,» Saint Just went on, «now you two can prolong your farewells. Will you kiss her again, Wendell? It's very affecting to observe.»

«Alex, knock it off,» Maggie said in a near-growl, then took hold of Wendell's arm at the elbow and steered him a good twenty paces down the sidewalk.

«You're really cruising for a bruising, you know that?» Socks said, shaking his head. «That guy carries a gold shield and a gun.»

«Yes, I tremble in my boots just thinking about that. Truthfully, Socks, have you ever seen such an ineffectual lover?»

«And that pisses you off?»

«On the contrary. It pleases me to the top of my bent— that's the highest branch of a tree, Socks, figuratively. And it never hurts to remind Maggie of that fact—of both of those facts. Ah, here's Sterling again, and all zipped and buttoned, which can only be considered fortunate for the ladies, as well as for the rest of us. Socks, good friend, take care, and feel free to mount a raid on the kitchen pantry when you sneak in to watch movies on my plasma television machine.»

«I wasn't going to… I wouldn't do that. Ah, damn, Alex—how did you know?»

«He knows everything,» Sterling said as he opened the back door and climbed onto the high seat. «Don't you, Saint Just?»

«I do my possible, yes, thank you. Socks, you'll assist Maggie into the vehicle, if you please?» Saint Just then climbed into the front passenger seat, carefully belting himself in without wrinkling his sport coat. He did not much care for handing the reins to Maggie, and had already made a mental note to pursue a license to drive vehicles. «I may not know everything, but I know Maggie is dreading this visit with her family more than an appointment with a tooth drawer. It is our duty, Sterling, to keep her in good spirits and, most probably, away from sharp, pointed objects. Are you up to the task?»

«You know I'll offer myself as a supporting prop, and all of that. But do you really think—?»

The driver-side door opened, then slammed. «Let's get this dog and pony show on the road, okay?» Maggie said, holding the key to the right too long, so that the ignition screamed. «Oh, yeah, this is going to be a real fun trip.»

«As long as you're happy, my dear.» Saint Just smiled as Sterling whimpered in the backseat.

It wasn't, Maggie knew, that you physically couldn't go home again. It was that sometimes you just didn't want to, at least not to the Kelly Family home. The closer the SUV got to Ocean City, the tighter the knot in Maggie's stomach became and the more her head pounded.

Not that her passengers noticed. Sterling was happily watching Shrek on the pull-down screen for the backseat, and Saint Just had, probably only to spite her, put on earphones and was listening to the soundtrack from the musical Jekyll and Hyde , saying he might as well have his melodrama with violin accompaniment.

Which had been a crack at her lousy mood.

«Okay, heads up,» she said, giving Saint Just a poke in the ribs. «I've got to get around this circle, so you look right and I'll look left. Sterling—cross your fingers.»

Ignoring the honking horn behind her, Maggie nervously eased her way into one of New Jersey's infamous traffic circles, one foot poised over the brake, then gunned it when Saint Just gave her the all clear.

«Very neatly executed, my dear, even if that truck driver did seem to have taken exception,» Saint Just said, removing the headphones. «By that pinched white line around your lovely mouth, may I assume we're very nearly at our destination?»

The Ninth Street bridge was just ahead of them now, the bridge that would take them onto the island and to her doom. Hey, if Saint Just wanted melodramatic, she'd give him melodramatic. «Okay, now listen up. We're late—»

«Yes. I keep wondering, as you've made the journey from Manhattan to Ocean City in the past, how you could possibly have taken three incorrect turns.»

«Don't push, Alex. I've got a lot on my mind. We're late, so that means everyone else is already there. That means Erin, along with her husband, Gavin the Neurosurgeon, all praise Gavin. Maureen lives here, so we know she's already at the house, probably kissing Mom's backside and scoring Brownie points, as usual. Tate? God knows. If there's still a red carpet on the front walk, he hasn't shown up yet.»

«Sibling affection is so moving, isn't it, Sterling?» Saint Just drawled, extracting his quizzing glass from his pocket and draping the black grosgrain ribbon around his neck. «But to recap? Erin is the oldest, Tate is the only son, and Maureen is the baby of the family. Leaving you… ?»

«Can we all say middle-child syndrome?» Maggie said, turning right onto Wesley Avenue. «Doctor Bob says that's what made me an overachiever, so I really shouldn't complain. Now, I'll introduce my parents as Alicia and Evan, but don't call them that, not unless they ask you to. Call them Mr. and Mrs. Kelly. And maybe bow.»

«Alicia Tate Evans, your very first nom de plume, Tate being your mother's maiden name, as I recall. Attempting to curry favor, were you?»