Perilously Fun Fiction: A Bundle, Pauline Jones [top 100 novels of all time .txt] 📗

This time the pain was in her back. It felt different and much stronger than the ones she’d had last night. While she was distracted with agony, Miss Weena pulled free and fluttered toward the table. Luci felt sweat pop out on her face.

“The table looks lovely, Louise, even if I couldn’t think of a theme. Have you got everything you need?”

Louise nodded, then turned and walked past Luci out the doorway of the sitting room, her body oddly rigid, even for her. Luci tried to speak, to stop her only hope of sanity from leaving, but couldn’t get it out. When the pain eased, she managed to say, “Miss Weena…”

“It’s going to be fine. I’ve got it all figured out. We’re going to reenact the murder.” She stopped, her head tilting bird-like to the side as she studied Luci’s face. “You look rather sweaty. More of those Axton-Brix things, dear? Maybe you should lie down for a bit. You were at the hospital awfully late last night, but you kept your word.” Her smile was approving.

She patted Luci’s hands, each touch vibrating through her. Slowly the pain subsided. Luci straightened her body in gradual stages and let her breath out in a rush. She didn’t know if it was the Braxton-Hicks getting her or Miss Weena’s plan, but she wanted Mickey. It was the only clear thought in her head. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and started punching in numbers. One ring and than another…

“Luci? Is it time?”

He didn’t sound quite as excited as he had last night.

“Mickey…”

“Hang up the phone, Miss Luci.” The voice was raspy and unfamiliar.

Luci turned around and saw Louise standing there—pointing a silenced Lugar at her with two very steady hands.

“Louise?” It was odd to be more shocked by the sound of her voice than the gun, but this was the Seymour zone.

“Turn it off and throw it to me.”

Her voice sounded like it needed oiling, but it was definitely coming out of Louise’s mouth. Maybe it did need oiling. It had been a long time.

Luci turned off the phone and tossed it to her. Mickey would come and he was going to be so pissed at Louise.

“Is it time?” Pryce said, looking up from the map of the city he’d been studying. Every time a hurricane entered the Gulf they’d look at that map and try to figure out how to get a million-plus people out of New Orleans. It wasn’t possible since many would refuse to go, but they always tried.

Mickey pushed the “end” button on his phone. “She hung up on me.” He frowned. “I’ve got to go home, sir.”

Pryce started to nod, when Delaney materialized in Pryce’s office.

“Louise has gone nutty. She pulled a gun on Luci and Miss Weena.”

“What?” Pryce and Mickey said together.

“She’s talking, bubba.”

“What? I knew something was going on,” Mickey said through gritted teeth, “but what is going on?”

“The tea party was part of some plan of Miss Weena’s to expose Gracie’s murderer.” Delaney looked surprised. “It must have worked, though not quite as planned, since Louise is holding a gun on them. Gracie’s keeping an eye on things, but she’s afraid to intervene unless, well, you know.”

Mickey opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before managing to get out, “The—housekeeper—did it?”

Delaney looked wry. “Better than the butler, I suppose.”

“But—why?”

“Never mind that,” Pryce snapped. “We need to assemble a team. That’s my grandson in there!”

“I’ll go recon and meet you outside,” Delaney said, vanishing from view.

Mickey looked at his Captain. He’d aged about thirty years in two minutes. And Mickey had a feeling he’d passed his father-in-law in the aging stakes. Luci and their little girl in danger. He rubbed his face. He had to think…

Luci knew she had more important things to think about than Louise talking, but it was hard to focus on them for some reason. Louise had been scratching on a blackboard for as long as she could remember.

“But—why didn’t you talk—if you could?”

“Enough of that around here,” she said, briefly. “You don’t look so good. You’d better sit down.” She gestured with the gun toward a chair.

She and Luci looked at its spindly legs, then at each other.

“Better make it that one.” The barrel of the gun shifted to a sturdier one. “Miss Weena, sit next to her.”

For once, without comment, Miss Weena did as she was told. Luci had never seen her look so surprised.

“I never even had you on my list,” Miss Weena said.

Without taking her eyes off Louise, Luci moved toward the chair and lowered herself into it. A sharp pain in her back made it hard for her to think, but one thing was obvious. Luci grabbed a pillow and stuffed it behind her back. It helped—a little.

“So you did it,” Luci managed, though her brain still wasn’t really processing it. She can talk. She can talk.

Louise didn’t look at Luci but at Miss Weena. Her face was more dour than ever, but her gaze was…regretful. She nodded.

“Louise…” Miss Weena’s voice was soft and sad. “Why?”

Like someone putting down a burden, Louise sank into a chair opposite them, though, Luci noticed, she didn’t lower her guard or the gun.

“At the time, it seemed like—I had to.” Words squeezed out her thin lips like something thick trying to come out a sieve. She took a couple of laden breaths, then said, “She wasn’t my first.”

Luci looked at Miss Weena for a long moment. It seemed like she tried to communicate something with her eyes, but Luci couldn’t figure out what. Miss Weena kind of nodded. Luci looked toward Louise and saw Gracie standing behind her. She looked down. Once before Gracie had saved her life by materializing, but there was risk, with that gun pointed right at her stomach and its precious cargo. So that was the plan. She shook her head.

“What are you doing?” Louise asked.

Luci looked at her. “Just thinking. I knew that the why was the key