Page 42 of Lethal Danger

“Who’s Desmond Patch?”

Aunt Joan raised her eyebrows like she was surprised Jazz was as ignorant as she’d always thought she was. “The leader of Best Life. He’s very well known in the Twin Cities.”

Meaning Jazz was stupid not to know that. She let the usual inference roll off. “So what did he say?”

“His statement referred to the boy’s death as proof that the Tri-City Fair is quote, ‘evil and dangerous.’”

“Wow. That’s pretty strong.” And meant the fair definitely had an enemy. One who just happened to run the cult they’d found a pin from by the Giant Slide.

“Thankfully, everyone in this area knows he’s a quack, so he didn’t get public opinion on his side.” Aunt Joan leaned down and opened a desk drawer. “The boy’s father probably did more damage.” She straightened with her purse in hand, setting the large bag on the desk.

“More damage?”

Aunt Joan opened her designer bag and reached inside. “He was very upset about his son’s death, and he took it out on us in the news coverage.” She pulled out a makeup bag and unzipped it. “He said our ride safety was nonexistent and that we were to blame for the accident.”

“Did people agree with him?”

“Some public opinion swayed that way, but not enough to harm our attendance at the time. It was close to the end of the season, thankfully.” She slipped a compact from the bag and flipped it open, touching up her impeccable makeup. “And he simultaneously claimed his son’s death wasn’t an accident at all, so that helped.”

Helped? It took Jazz a second to realize what her aunt meant. Of course. She meant it helped everyone discount the father’s claims the fair was at fault. Aunt Joan always did see everything in terms of how it affected her interests.

At least in this case, Jazz’s interests aligned with her aunt’s—the continuation and well-being of the Tri-City Fair. And now she knew of at least two people, maybe a whole community, that were against the fair. They could have motive to sabotage it and close it down.

Could that also be related to the attacks on Jazz? She took a breath. Might as well ask. “So you haven’t received any threats this year, though? Nothing about your…family or closing down the fair?”

Aunt Joan closed the compact and slipped it into the makeup bag, returning everything to her purse. “Well, Pierce always gets some harmless threats. That comes with running for political office, especially at the level of governor. But nothing that mentioned the fair.”

“Okay. I think I’ll look into the cult thing and see—”

“Oh, there is something unrelated I wanted to talk to you about.”

“There is?” Jazz wanted to cringe at the hopeful surprise in her tone. Aunt Joan never wanted to talk to Jazz about anything. Well, except to scold or lecture. Maybe that’s all she meant.

A rap at the door put Jazz’s curiosity on hold.

Aunt Joan’s secretary leaned through the doorway. “You said you wanted to go over the numbers before the board members arrive?”

“Oh, yes.” Aunt Joan waved her in, giving Jazz a glance. “We’ll have to continue this over brunch tomorrow.”

So she was still invited. Hope, which Jazz should know better than to allow, flickered behind her ribs. “Do you want me to bring anything?”

“The chef will take care of everything. I look forward to seeing you at eleven sharp.”

“Right.” Jazz nodded, but Aunt Joan was already holding out her hand to take the folder the secretary quickly offered her.

Jazz didn’t envy that job. Though Aunt Joan was being unusually nice today.

And helpful with the information she’d shared.

Jazz pushed through the glass door to exit the building, letting Flash go first as the humid heat of late morning hit her full in the face.

The idea of the fair having two known enemies—or maybe many in the Best Life Community—was hard to grasp.

“We meet again.”

Jazz swung back toward the building and the man’s voice.

Hawthorne Emerson smiled, the sun kissing his tanned skin. “Under more pleasant circumstances this time. Unless you don’t like the heat.”

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