A Veiled Deception by Annette Blair Page A

squeaked the mouse.
    Chakra screamed.
    The house shook.
    Nick dropped her.
    Werner caught her.
    “Lytton! My hero!”
    “Uh, you wanna go back to third grade and say that?”
    I took my baby from the Wiener’s arms. “Poor little Chakra Citrine, you scared Mommy.”
    Having lost the pissing contest, Nick frowned. “She’s got vocal cords that exceed the sound barrier.”
    “It’s not like she clawed you. You could have held on.”
    Werner scratched Chakra behind an ear. “Did she sound like she might have screamed ‘Maddie’?” he asked.
    Nick scoffed.
    “Yes! You heard it, too. Isn’t it wild? She can say my name. She’s gonna be our guard cat and sleep on my bed.” I gave Nick a pointed look, since, at the moment, he wasn’t allowed on that piece of furniture.
    Werner caught the exchange and turned his chuckle into a cough. Before they could come to blows, I locked Aunt Fiona’s house, and we each got into our separate cars. The dopes followed me until I turned into Mrs. Sweet’s driveway. I parked and called Nick’s cell.
    “Jaconetti here.”
    “Jaconetti, you have info on the autopsy?”
    “Yes and no. It’s not finished. Something about a tox screen, but the Fed ME is going to let me know when he gets the report.”
    “A tox screen? Does that mean they suspect poisoning?”
    “Could be.”
    “Poisoning and strangling? Why bother?” I asked. “Dead is dead.”
    “The tox screen may be routine, then again, maybe there were two attempts and only one success. It’s also conceivable,” Nick continued, “that if something toxic skewed or slowed Jasmine’s instincts, she might not have been able to fight her strangler. Seems as if Jasmine ticked off half the town. Last night, they wanted to lynch her.”
    “Nick, that was like Sherry saying she wanted to kill her, a figure of speech.”
    “Jasmine was a raptor, who cut at least one local way deeper than the rest. Listen, I’m giving you her home address, almost against my better judgment, but I know you. I know that you have to be working on fixing this for your sister, under controlled conditions, or you’ll run amuck.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Yeah, well, my ego’s still a little bruised from your recent gentle handling. Anyway, I’d rather set you on a safe course than let you hurt an innocent bystander.”
    I opened my mouth to argue, but I’d be stupid to further alienate my personal information system.
    Nick appeared to expect me to blow, because he sighed, as if with relief, after a minute. “Remember that this is a murder investigation, as in somebody died. Dead is forever, ladybug. Screw the word games. I want you safe. Hell, I just want you. Always have, Mad. Don’t do anything stupid.”
    Oy, he was Madeira-mocking and I was getting the warm fuzzies over it, darned close to flipping that relationship switch to on-again.
    He cleared his throat. “I ran the Updikes through the system. No red flags, so go see what you can find. I know that’s what you want to do. But, Mad, any other jaunts you feel like taking for the cause, you pass by me. Not for permission,” he quickly added, “for backup. Got it?”
    “Got it. And, Nick, thanks for watching my back.”
    “Well . . . I watch your front a lot, too.” Husky voice, evocative tone, filled with tingly implications.
    Seduction via cell phone. Who knew I’d be susceptible. Focus, Madeira, I told myself. “The address?”
    “It’s Two-two-seven Updike Circle, Wickford, Rhode Island.”
    I wrote it on the back of the guest list. “The Updikes live on Updike Circle?”
    “Wickford used to be called Updike’s Newtown. I’m guessing they’re descendants.”
    “You’d think she would have been wearing real couture.”
    “What?”
    “Never mind. Werner probably got the address from Deborah and gave Jasmine’s family the news last night. I might go take a look around, offer my condolences.”
    “Mad, don’t forget what I said.”
    “Which part?”
    “All of it. Stay