Death Loved A Woman (Happy Holloway Mystery Book 2) Page 2

  Wesley appeared amused but said nothing.

  “Apologize, BJ.” Flynn cast his tone low and angry.

  Barbara Jean’s mouth fell open. “I was joking, Flynn. Don’t you have a sense of humor? I know Annie does, don’t you, Annie?”

  All eyes swiveled to Annie.

  “Of course, and lord knows I’m plump. Don’t worry. My feelings aren’t hurt.”

  Barbara Jean latched onto Flynn’s arm and fluttered long lashes up at him. “So, why haven’t you called me lately?”

  He looked down at her and said nothing. Barbara Jean sighed and straightened. She kept hold of Flynn but turned to face Annie.

  “Sorry, Annie. Flynn’s so sensitive sometimes it drives me nuts. Why are you here?”

  Derek bumped Wesley aside to get closer to Barbara Jean. “She’s a writer, and she’s doing research on a book. That’s Annie’s thing, experiencing different jobs to get a real feel for what life is like for other people.”

  Barbara Jean’s expression shifted from dismissive to piqued. “Really? You write and get published?”

  Annie smiled. “Yes. What do you do?”

  Barbara Jean colored. Before she could answer, Flynn spoke again. “You’re late, Wesley, and why bring BJ when you know you have to work?”

  Annie knew Flynn changed the subject on Barbara Jean’s behalf. The tiny woman beamed at him, and Annie guessed either she wasn’t proud of her job or she was in between them at the moment.

  Wesley reached out and grabbed Barbara Jean’s hand to untangle her from Flynn. Flynn didn’t fight to hold on to her. “What’s it to you? Last time I checked, you weren’t the boss around here.”

  “And last time I checked,” Flynn shot back, “you were using your daddy’s money to skate through life. That doesn’t fly when people’s lives are on the line.”

  “Save the drama, Flynn. I hear the calls just like everybody else.” Wesley turned his back on Flynn and all but dragged Barbara Jean toward the office.

  “What does he mean he heard it?” Annie asked.

  Flynn stared after the two of them, mouth a tight angry line.

  Shem answered. “Most of us have a radio so we can know what’s going on even when we’re not in. There’s just a few of us, so we’re on call all the time. Dispatch has to be able to contact us. Our cells are never off.”

  “Annie,” Derek called from the stairs. He’d apparently lost all interest in the conversation now that Barbara Jean had gone into the office with Wesley. “Are you staying for lunch? Shem cooked spaghetti and meatballs, and you haven’t lived until you taste his cooking. He makes it spicy.”

  “I’ve never heard of spicy spaghetti,” Annie said. Her stomach growled. Now that her precious sister wasn’t around, no one sent extra plates of food and tins of cookies or cakes to her house. The food and treats weren’t the only reason she missed Jane, but it always brought her sister to mind.

  Sadness washed over Annie and with it an ache in her heart. She tried to push it away, but Jane’s face flashed in her mind. Next month, she might get to visit her sister. One part of her looked forward to it. The other not so much. She wanted to hold Jane’s hand like she used to and chat with her about the experiences in her life. The last time she saw her sister, Jane was in no condition to chat about anything—nothing coherent anyway.

  Flynn moved up beside Annie. “Stay, Annie. I agree. You’ll like Shem’s cooking, even if you don’t do spicy. Besides, once a week or so, his wife sends over a homemade cake for us. If you don’t have any today, I can’t guarantee there’ll be any tomorrow. These guys eat like animals.”

  “Hey, who are you calling an animal?” one of the men shouted. “Don’t listen to him, Annie. Flynn always takes the biggest helping of everything.”

  “Because I’m the biggest,” Flynn boasted, sticking his chest out.

  Annie laughed. “All right, you’ve convinced me. I’ll give it a try, Shem, but if it’s not everything these fellows have said, you’re going to hear it from me.”

  Shem grinned. “You got it, Annie. Oh, boy, now I’m getting nervous.”

  The group jostled each other, and Annie moved ahead of them as they ascended to the second floor. Around the giant table with mismatched chairs, Annie set out paper plates. Someone else distributed plastic cups while Derek set a huge pitcher of iced tea filled with ice cubes in the center of the table.

  Shem held a massive pot, his hands covered with oven mitts. Annie had never seen a pot that big, but a glimpse inside at the delicious looking spaghetti and a whiff of it stirred her hunger. Another of the men who had stayed behind when they left on the call, opened the oven to remove loaves of garlic bread.

  “How can you guys move after eating all this heavy food?” Annie declared.

  Shem dumped a big spoon of spaghetti onto her plate. “We’re used to it. Plus you saw the workout room down the hall. A few miles on the treadmill will settle the stomach.”

  “Or an antacid,” Derek quipped.

  Annie shook her head. “Maybe I’ll discipline myself to exercise while I’m with you guys.”

  “I’ll show you some routines if you want, Annie.” Shem thunked the pot in the middle of the table and sat down to his meal on the other side.

  “She doesn’t need you to show her anything.” Flynn shoveled a forkful of spaghetti into his mouth while frowning at Shem.

  “Oh, I think Flynn’s jealous,” Derek teased. “Flynn did bring Annie to us. Is there more than friendship between you two?”

  “Derek, grow up,” Flynn snapped.

  “Why should there be more than friendship between them?”

  Everyone looked over to Barbara Jean standing in the doorway. Heads ducked, eyes focused on their food. Derek kept grinning. Annie had pegged him as a troublemaker from the start.

  As Flynn accused him, Derek tended toward immaturity, but Annie excused it. After all he was young. She saw no reason to be offended at every little thing. However, from the time Barbara Jean and Wesley appeared, Flynn grew agitated.

  “This is normal with them,” Derek whispered in Annie’s ear. He read her mind. “They fight like cats and dogs, break up, and then she flaunts Wesley in front of his face. I wouldn’t be surprised if one day there’s a nuclear blow up between them.”

  Annie watched as Barbara Jean moved with fluid grace into the room. She bumped the arm of one of the men, and he vacated his seat to let her sit down next to Flynn.

  Shem stood and served Barbara Jean. Annie couldn’t fault him because he served her as well. Still, all the men worked not to anger Barbara Jean while doing her bidding at the same time. Annie had seen it a thousand times with beautiful women and men.

  Wesley walked into the room moments later and paused to scan the area. He glared at Flynn as if it were his fault that Barbara Jean chose to sit beside him. Flynn ignored him and continued to eat his food. After some time, Wesley grabbed a chair that sat against the wall and drew it up to the table. Room was made for him, and the company chatted while they continued to eat.

  “Okay, Annie,” Shem said when Annie set her fork down for the last time, “what did you think? Do I get a passing grade?”

  “Shem, I might need to steal you from the firehouse and make you my personal chef.” She patted her stuffed tummy.

  Shem’s eyes glowed. “Does that mean you don’t have room for chocolate cake?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, sir. Bring it on!”

  Chapter Three

  Annie carried her turnouts to her car in the firehouse’s back parking lot. She was going to follow Flynn’s advice and use their washing machine to clean her uniform, but she changed her mind. The detergent the guys used wasn’t up to the strict criteria she required when washing clothes.

  “No one takes their turnouts home, Annie,” Flynn informed her leaning against her car.

  “I know, but I have to.”

  One side of his mouth rose. “Have to, huh? Okay, well since you won’t be exposed to anything that cou
ld hurt you at home, there’s no reason you shouldn’t. They’re yours after all.”

  “Thanks, and I really appreciate how you got the chief to let me come and foot the bill for my digs.”

  “He didn’t actually foot the bill.” Flynn colored and looked away.

  She straightened from laying the uniform across the back seat of her car. “You did?”

  “He was going to say your uniform wasn’t in the budget. Actually, he did say that. I think he felt sorry for me and let you come. Forking out money for it wasn’t happening.”

  “Oh!” She grabbed her purse and dug through it for her wallet. “Let me pay you back. How much?”

  He started to lay his hand over hers but froze above it. “Don’t worry about it. The guys love you. I’ve never seen them falling all over themselves for anyone.”

  Annie snorted. “Yeah, right. I’ve seen how they ogle Barbara Jean, and Shem was just as polite to her as he is to me.”

  “Shem, yes. The others no. Plus, ogling is different from having a good time. You bring something different, Annie.”

  She blushed. “Thanks. I like it here. I’ve had jobs that were boring and so much routine I wanted to rip my hair out. Those I didn’t stay the whole week.”

  “Were they all about doing research? How long have you been at this?”

  “Ten years, and I’m going to keep going until my fingers cramp from arthritis. Then I’ll dictate. After that, maybe a pencil in my mouth.”

  He laughed. “You’re something, Annie.”

  Neither of them spoke for a few minutes. Annie found herself reluctant to leave. She liked Flynn a lot. Not to take their friendship to another level or anything. She truly believed she wasn’t capable of that. Just to be with him and talk to him, to see him smile and laugh. She enjoyed it tremendously, especially because now Flynn was the only person who knew about her, the parts she didn’t show anyone else.

  “How are you doing, Annie?” He spoke so low she almost didn’t hear him, and she dared not look up now that he had asked such a difficult question.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Annie.”

  “I’m…getting better.”

  “You miss her. Are you able to visit?”

  “Soon. Not yet. Her doctor will let me know, and I have to get special permission from some administrator or something.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get it soon.”

  “Flynn, I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t. We’ve put that behind us.”

  She smiled up at him. “I guess we have, as much as we can put it behind us.”

  Movement from the corner of her eye made Annie look toward the firehouse’s back door. Barbara Jean looked around. She frowned at Annie seeing her with Flynn.

  “I guess I better get going.”

  “Okay.” Flynn straightened. “Hey, why don’t I call you later, and we can grab a movie some time and dinner.”

  She stared at him. “A date?”

  “A movie,” he repeated. “And we have to eat.”

  She wasn’t sure if he was saying heck no, he wasn’t asking her for a date, or if he reassured her in case the prospect flipped her out. “Um, okay.”

  She could think later what his offer meant. Rather than watch Barbara Jean latch onto him, Annie concentrated on finishing up with the turnout. She climbed into her car and tried to think whether she had enough detergent at home. Maybe she should stop at the store on the way and grab some as well as a few other items she needed.

  A tap on the window made her jump, and she looked up expecting to see Flynn but instead found Barbara Jean, tightlipped and narrow-eyed. Annie turned the key in the ignition a little to activate the power windows.

  “Did you need something, Barbara Jean?”

  Small delicate hands with manicured nails came down heavy on her door. “Derek told me you followed Flynn here, and he asked the chief to let you ‘research’ with them.”

  Barbara Jean made air-quotes as if Annie’s story was just a cover.

  “Derek’s a little troublemaker, isn’t he?” Annie said mildly. “Why should it bother you what I do?”

  “Because it’s clear you’re attracted to Flynn.”

  “Aren’t you engaged to Wesley?”

  “Don’t you worry about that. You’re wasting your time with Flynn. A woman like you is not his type.”

  “Gosh, I’ve met a lot of people, some who didn’t like me. I’ve never experienced such open hostility aimed toward me.” Annie reached into her handbag, and felt a zing of satisfaction when Barbara Jean jerked back from the door a little.

  “What are you doing?”

  Annie removed a notebook she kept there and flipped to a clean page. She tapped the end of her pen against the sheet. “I’m thinking this is part jealousy part general bad attitude. What do you think?”

  Barbara Jean gasped. “Why should I be jealous of you?”

  “That’s right.” Annie gazed up at her. “Why should you?”

  Barbara Jean started to speak several times but at last snapped her teeth together.

  Annie started the car. “I do like Flynn. He’s my friend, but I consider every one of those guys a friend. You are playing a very dangerous game pitting two men against each other, always having them fight over you.”

  A slow grin spread over Barbara Jean’s face. “Now who’s jealous?”

  Annie shrugged. “Be careful, Barbara Jean. Just when you think you know what a person is capable of, you’re wrong. Have a nice day.”

  Annie drove away with her head held high and a smirk on her face. She had the last word without sinking to Barbara Jean’s level. Nevertheless, as she drove on, the barb the woman had sent her way sank in a little. She wasn’t Flynn’s type.

  A tiny little figure probably not bigger than a size two is.

  Ah, well, she wasn’t trying to be his type, and she certainly wasn’t playing games to get the man’s attention. Annie arrived home, cleaned her already spotless kitchen, and fought a mental battle with a family-size package of chicken wings.

  When she settled down later to a plate of commercially made potato salad with her wings, her cell phone rang after the first bite. Moaning, she checked the display and found it was Aunt Bridge calling.

  Annie groaned. She stabbed the connect button, and the doorbell rang. “Honestly!”

  “Annie, do you have a problem with me calling to check on my niece.”

  “No, not you, Aunt Bridge,” she hurried to explain. “Someone’s at the door.”

  “Well, check through the peephole first. That neighborhood isn’t as safe as I once thought it was.”

  “I will.” The neighborhood was safe for Annie above everyone else, but she wasn’t going to correct her aunt.

  Annie figured whoever was at the door knew her since they rang the side doorbell. All the same, she peeked out the window. A glint of late evening sunlight flickered off silver rimmed glasses. Quinn, her twelve-year-old nephew, and his five-year-old little brother stood outside.

  Annie unlocked the door, and the two boys trooped inside. “Does grandma know where you are?”

  “Yeah, we told her,” Quinn said. “Do you have any snacks, Aunt Annie? Grandma’s suck.”

  “Don’t say suck, Quinn. Yeah, go check the drawer under the microwave.”

  “Annie?”

  “Yes, sorry about that, Aunt Bridge. Quinn and Ben are here.”

  “Those poor dears,” Aunt Bridge said. “And their grandmother’s no good. I should get more involved. Donovan can’t handle them. When is she going back home?”

  Annie kept up with her aunt’s rapid-fire questions. “I don’t know. I think there was talk of her moving down permanently.”

  “To ruin those kids? Yes, I definitely need to get involved. But I’ve got my hands full with you, too.”

  “I’m fine, Aunt Bridge.” Annie’s stomach clenched. She knew what was coming.

  “You need a husband. You can’t stay in that house alone forever, espec
ially now that Jane is gone. Now, I’ve got some men in mind, but I haven’t ruled out Omen. He’s a decent man, even if his money isn’t what I’d like it to be. You do okay with your books, I suppose.”

  “Omen and I aren’t—”

  “I didn’t want to tell you, but I’m going to leave you a little money when I pass, but don’t get excited! I plan to be around a long time, and I’m as healthy as a woman twenty years younger.”

  “Sure, Aunt Bridge.”

  Annie started to go to her office where she always ate dinner if she decided not to eat it in the kitchen. The boys, with plates of chicken and potato salad, plus napkins full of cookies, followed behind her.

  She hesitated and looked at them over her shoulder. Innocent eyes stared at her, and her heart stirred. Annie sighed. “Maybe we should use the living room.”

  Annie tucked her nephews in the living room and retrieved her plate from her office. She turned on the living room TV and fiddled with it a few minutes to get a picture working.

  “I got it, Aunt Annie,” Quinn offered.

  She stood in the middle of the floor, phone pressed between her ear and her shoulder and her plate in her hand. Quinn, the little techy he was, worked the TV, plugged in a few wires, and switched a couple channels. A cable TV show came in crystal clear. She had just recently subscribed to the service, as the kids now had a habit of visiting her house.

  “Aunt Bridge, can I call you tomorrow?”

  “Okay, but we’re discussing your love life soon, Annie.”

  “Good night, Aunt Bridge.”

  “Good night, and kiss the kids for me.”

  “Will do.”

  Annie dropped onto the area rug near the TV and placed her plate on the coffee table. The room was clean and dust-free because she had also begun using a maid service once a week. She never used more than a few rooms in her family home, the living room not being one of them. Now, she felt she had no choice.

  Little Ben crawled on hands and knees and climbed onto her lap. She wrapped her arms around him and rested a cheek against his silky hair. Together, the three of them watched cartoons and ate their food in silence.

  At just after midnight, after her nephews had gone home and Annie had turned in for the night, someone rang her doorbell again. She started from sleep and sat up in bed. Her head hurt. She had eaten too many store bought sweets. They were nowhere near as good as her sister’s home baked goods, so the sickness wasn’t worth it.