“We were the last people Pendleton saw. He probably called up your father’s files right after we left. Wemightbe responsible!” Evie fretted and followed him down the drive. “I knew we should have gone back. I can’t do anything from here. Let me send that photo I took of the F100 to your Conan friend. Can he do anything with it?”
“I’ll give it to him to check out.” He threw open the big barn doors. “But this case is not on your doorstep. You have no reason to be involved.”
“No reason? A nice man may have died because of us! And there’s a killer on the loose. And Ihatebeing a suspect!”
Evie gasped when Jax grabbed her arms and lifted her from the ground. “You cannot personally solve all the world’s problems. Lay off, Evie. Stick to one thing at a time. Find a mayor.”
SuperMachoMan was back. She’d kicked his shins when he’d tried manhandling her before. But she knew Jax better now.
She grabbed his thick shoulders and kissed his nose to make his head spin. “Then you have to do the same. Forget your father’s papers and go start your new law office.”
She wriggled away before he could tighten his hold. The hormone thing was a real nuisance when she needed to keep her attention-deprived head. Living in the same house with so many people around them... Very bad setting for quickie sex. Which she didn’t do, she reminded herself. She had a kid to think about now. And Jax made her so angry sometimes, she could just spit.
She had no intention of giving up on poor Mr. Pendleton, but he didn’t have to know that.
Jax took an unsteady breath, then set his square jaw. “Fine. I’ll make some calls, be certain Norton had a good practice. Who’s your choice for mayor?”
“You won’t know her. I’ll let you know once she accepts. If she accepts. She’s not exactly crazy, so that may be a largeif.”
“Got it. Mavis going with you?”
“She’s already filed for herself, so no. I’ll set fire to her filing papers if my candidate accepts.”
Still miffed at her mother, Evie left Jax to his calls. She was a little anxious about making the contact with her potential candidate, but this was a task she’d set herself. She couldn’t ask her family for help. Yet.
It was just a good thing she had a mission or she’d go crazy worrying about killers and how they might be connected to voting machines and mines and Jax’s father. Grabbing her new bike, Evie pedaled to the outskirts of town, past the school, to the sprawling brick building housing Larraine Fashions.
Larraine Ward was an enigma. Evie was fairly certain Ward had been born a Larry, but her taste in ladies’ fashion had garnered her awards and scholarships from design schools. She’d returned to Afterthought wearing women’s clothes, and her success was such that she’d withered anyone daring to mock. Evie wasn’t clear on why a well-known designer had returned to her small-town roots when she could have succeeded in fashion centers around the world, but Ward knew how to run a business—and that’s what the town needed. Along with honesty.
Evie didn’t know if Larraine would remember her, but the designer would have to live in a bubble not to know Evie’s family. So she approached the impressive, modern lobby and model-thin receptionist with a confidence she probably had no right to feel.
“Hi. I’m Evangeline Malcolm Carstairs. I’d like to speak with Miss Ward about a matter of some importance to the town. Do I need to make an appointment?”
With colorfully decorated fingernails longer than Evie’s nose, the receptionist punched a button on a phone line. Evie didn’t bother studying the woman’s presumably stylish clothes and chic hairstyle. At five-two, Evie could barely find clothes in her age group. She could never hope to achieve any degree of fashion and wasn’t much interested in trying, so she didn’t relate to anyone who did.
She studied the art on the walls instead. The canvases were mostly color and line and not recognizable objects, but against the brick walls, in the sun-drenched lobby, they were dramatic.
“Miss Ward will see you now. First door on the right.” The receptionist pointed at a hallway.
Evie figured she was out of her mind to come here, but it beat worrying about stone-cold killers and why they’d murder a nice old lawyer. Her main concern should be how she might study the fashionista’s aura without looking like a space cadet.
Loretta had already approved of Ward’s bubble when the fashionista had done a presentation on careers at school. Evie was fairly certain what Loretta perceived as a bubble was a person’s soul. If Ward had a good soul, anything else was just gravy.
The designer opened her office door before Evie could knock. “Come in, come in, tell me what I can do for my little hometown.”
Aided by sky-high heels, Larraine Ward towered over Evie. Gorgeous brown skin highlighted in gold glitter announced her mixed heritage. With her black hair severely pulled back in a knot and flashing fake eyelashes long enough to cause breezes, Ward was dramatically gorgeous. Wearing what appeared to be a peach-colored 70’s jumpsuit with flared legs and arms in a fabric that clung to her slender frame, she swung back to a desk almost as striking as she was. Made of what appeared to be onyx and mahogany, the desk stretched long enough for a pool table.
“Don’t you even want me to introduce myself?” Evie asked, not hiding her amusement. “I could be a con artist.” Which Jax had accused her family of being often enough.
Ward waved a heavily beringed hand. “Your mother found me a ride to Savannah for a competition, and your uncle gave me a place to stay while I was there. I remember the good folks. You were just a wee little thing and told me my aura looked like a rainbow. You were right on.”
Evie relaxed and took the high-backed leather chair offered. “Then you don’t mind if I look to see if your aura is still a rainbow?” She didn’t wait for a response but opened her third eye and read the messy, dramatic hues of a creative soul, an older one tinged in gray.
Ward looked more amused than wary. “So, am I still rainbow-colored?”
“I don’t think that part of you changes,” Evie admitted. “You’re a creative. Your energies are off the scale. You have as much potential for murder as doing good, but you’re at peace with yourself. Loretta, my ward, met you and says you have a large soul. That doesn’t mean you can’t be as petty as the rest of us, just that you’re less inclined to be so.”
“Oh, you’re good, maybe even better than your mother. She told me I had a good future if I accepted myself. It’s amazing how much a few kind words can mean. She gave me courage. I needed that back when I was a poor, skinny teenager thinking I’d have to kill myself because I didn’t fit in anywhere. I try to pass on that good deed any time I can. So, what do you need from me?”