A man. Not just any man.
The man of her dreams.
The man of her nightmares.
The man she’d vowed to kill.
Bud Traynor.
Chapter Seventeen
She wouldn’t panic, she wouldn’t scream, and she damn sure wouldn’t kill him right here in front of all these witnesses.
She’d wait till later.
Max met Traynor’s gaze despite the quake in her limbs. He wasn’t surprised to see her, that much she could tell. He smiled, in fact, with a Cheshire Cat grin, all teeth and lips.
Virginia, holding her hand out for her tea, noticed nothing amiss. She smiled up at him with true gratefulness. “What would we do without you, Bud?”
Ladybird trilled, a little sound of delight emanating from the base of her throat.
Jada picked her way carefully around Traynor and across the dining room, presumably to store the lasagna in the freezer and to fetch those two additional cups of tea.
Max simply wanted to blow up and take him out with her. Spontaneous combustion.
Virginia did the introductions. “This is my neighbor, Ladybird Long and her son’s fiancé—” Virginia turned, her lips a round O of hostess horror. “My goodness, I’ve forgotten your name. Dear, please forgive me.”
Max had her mouth open to answer. Nothing came out. It didn’t need to.
Bud stepped in. “Why, if it isn’t Max Starr.”
Her first insane thought was to thank God because she wouldn’t have to shake his hand for politeness sake.
“You know each other.” A musical duet from Virginia and Ladybird.
His lids closed slowly, then rose again. His smile turned lazy. “Max is the wonder who flushed out poor Wendy’s murderer.”
Virginia gasped, put a hand to her throat, age spots dotting her skin. “My dear. I’ve heard the whole story. How can we ever thank you?”
Max smiled wanly. It was all she could manage. Yes, she’d uncovered Wendy’s killer, but she hadn’t made Traynor pay for his part in the whole affair.
Bud raised his pants legs an inch at the knee and sat in the chair opposite Max. His dark gaze pinned her to the sofa. “Wasn’t there that business with the hairdresser?”
God, he was actually taunting her. Neener, neener, catch me if you can. Like child’s play.
“Hairdresser?” Virginia bleated.
“Another murder, Virginia,” he answered, then turned his attention back to Max. “Perhaps Max will help us find out who killed Bethany. She’s done so well in the past.”
Obviously picking up on Max’s tension, Ladybird’s hand crept around hers, tiny fingers squeezing. Nice to know she wasn’t completely alone in the lion’s den.
Virginia’s lower lip quivered. She shook her head slowly. “I don’t understand what’s happening to us all.”
A shiver coursed from Max’s scalp, through her torso, past her abdomen, and into her legs. She hadn’t a clue what the man wanted from her, but he’d thrown down the gauntlet. She damn well wasn’t going to let it lie forlorn at her feet. “Yes, Mr. Traynor, first your—” She glanced at Virginia, weighed her chances of alienation. “First your daughter, then your hairdresser, and now your ...?”
Her question rode the silence for the count of three. “Please, Max, you’ve shared the hospitality of my home.” He politely didn’t mention that she’d broken into it. “We know each other too well for me to be Mr. Traynor.” A corner of his mouth crooked. “Bethany was my goddaughter.”
Max stifled a gasp. Connections. Coincidences. The number 452. It should have been 666 and branded into forehead of the man seated across from her. What the hell did it all mean, for Bethany? For Wendy? For Max herself?
She’d come for information, but again, as always in their strange relationship, Traynor had the upper hand. The information she’d gathered only served up more questions. She had to evaluate her strategy, come up with a new game plan, and rethink her original conception of who killed Bethany Spring.
Max stood, pulling Ladybird, whose tiny hand was still tucked in hers, with her. “We have to be going.”
“But your tea—” Virginia stopped abruptly, as if she hadn’t meant the words to come out, her eyes a little wild, as if the thought of being alone with Bud and Jada and her grief was too much to handle. Then the look vanished beneath a veneer of civility. She extended her hand. Ladybird took it.
“Thank you for coming.” Virginia’s formal, stiff tone showed her true feelings were now completely buried.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate,” Ladybird chattered. A sickly smile from Virginia was her reward.