Page 11 of Shadow Scorching

“Welcome, my dear,” she said, standing as I entered the room. Tilly was wearing a Chanel suit—one of those classic two-piece skirt-suits that was a requisite part of the wardrobe for elderly rich women, along with the obligatory pearls. Her long gray hair was curled into a neat chignon. She held out her arms and I leaned in for an air-kiss before she bade me sit down. “Diana, please get Kyann a drink. What would you like?” she asked.

I sat, crossing my legs. I liked dresses but I constantly had to remind myself to keep my legs together and not show off my goodies. “I’m driving, so soda, if you have one.”

I hated drunk drivers. Dante and I had lost a friend to a fucknut who had been three times the legal limit. It took everything I had not to go after the judge who gave the drunk a five-year sentence. I maintained that the best way to get away with killing someone was to knock back a few drinks, then mow your intended victim down and plead being drunk. Most only saw a slap on the wrists, a few years for wiping out a life.

“Cola or lemon-lime, Miss?” Diana asked.

“Cola, please. Cherry cola, if you have it.”

“Yes, Miss.” Diana vanished out of the room.

I turned to Tilly, not sure of how to bring up the subject of her impending marriage, but she solved that problem.

“I suppose Dante told you that I’m getting married?” She glanced at Dante, raising her eyebrows.

I nodded. “He mentioned something about it. Congratulations.” I tried to sound light-hearted. It wouldn’t help anything if I came off as concerned.

In fact, Dante and I often played good cop-bad cop when we needed to. I was usually the bad cop, but this time, Dante had that pleasure.

“Thank you. I never expected at this age to find myself in this position,” Tilly said. “But…here I am.”

She paused as Diana brought in a tray with our drinks, along with a dish of assorted nuts and small finger sandwiches that hearkened back to the days of scones, watercress and cucumber sandwiches, and tiny cakes with high tea.

Aunt Tilly had an excellent cook, so I knew whatever we were having for dinner would be fantastic. I accepted a small hors d’oeuvre plate and selected two of the sandwiches.

I leaned back in my chair. “So, tell me all about him! What’s his name? Where does he live? Have you decided on a date yet?”

Tilly let out a satisfied sigh. “Jet Shy. He’s a coyote shifter. He’s originally from Singapore, but he’s been in the states for ten years. We haven’t decided on a date yet, though we want it to be as soon as possible.”

“So, where does he live?”

“He moves from city to city, but he’s ready to settle down. He says he’s never felt the need to put down roots before, but now that he’s met me…” She blushed, and I saw the look in her eye. She was truly in love. It was written all over her face.

“That’s so romantic!” I said. I gave her a wistful look. “What did he say? My love life is in the drink right now, and I could use a dose of romance”

Dante stayed silent, letting me lead the conversation.

“He said that he couldn’t imagine leaving the US, not now that he’s met me, that he’s never been in love before like this. He’s a bit younger than I am, but that doesn’t matter to him. Or to me, I have to say. He’s living in a hotel right now.” A hint of worry crept into her voice. “There’s just one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“Jet’s rich, but he had to get out of Singapore because he angered one of the leaders of the local mob there, who has strings to the government. When he left, they froze his bank accounts. So, I’m helping him until he can settle things from here.”

The spiel sounded rehearsed, as though she’d been fed the lines on a cue card. Red flags went off in my mind.Frozen bank accounts? The mob?It sounded all too convenient.

“So, you’re helping him with living expenses right now?” I asked. Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I’d jumped too soon.

Immediately, Tilly’s smile faded. She recovered it quickly, but rang the bell instead of answering. As the maid returned, she said, “I think we’ll have dinner now.” She turned to us. “Shall we go to the table?” She rose and led the way.

I gave Dante a helpless shrug, and followed her. As we took our places, I thought that at least we had the man’s name.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Tilly said, as Diana brought in the serving dishes and set them on the table.

“Starved,” I said, staring at the spread. We were having lamb chops with a port wine sauce, string beans with bacon bits, dinner rolls, and mashed potatoes. A trifle sat on the end of the table, ready for dessert.

“Good. I like it when my guests are ready to eat,” she said.

Diana handed the platter of lamb chops to me, then carried it around. As she set it on the sideboard, Dante spooned potatoes and gravy onto his plate and we began to fill our plates. As soon as we were ready, Tilly dismissed Diana and motioned for us to begin.

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