Malice In Wonderland (Book 6) Read online

  Malice In Wonderland

  A Harley and Davidson Mystery Series (Book 6)

  Liliana Hart

  Scott Silverii

  To our brothers and sisters standing along the thin blue line. We are a proud LEO family and love writing about heroic first responders. We salute you.

  God Bless the Blue

  Contents

  Other Books In Series

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  You Make The Difference

  Sneak Peek: Tequila Mockingbird

  Also by Liliana Hart

  Also by Scott Silverii

  About Liliana Hart

  About Scott Silverii

  Copyright © 2019 by Liliana Hart & Scott Silverii

  All rights reserved.

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  Published by 7th Press

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  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  The Harley and Davidson Mystery Series

  The Farmer’s Slaughter

  A Tisket a Casket

  I Saw Mommy Killing Santa Claus

  Get Your Murder Running

  Deceased and Desist

  Malice in Wonderland

  Tequila Mockingbird

  Gone With the Sin

  Chapter One

  To Agatha Harley’s way of thinking, there were two kinds of rich people in the world. There were those who were comfortable in their wealth, subtle in how they dressed and acted. And there were those who…weren’t.

  Buck Hazard fit into the latter category. His Dallas ranch was opulent and ostentatious, and Agatha asked herself again how she’d gotten dragged to Buck’s annual Fourth of July shindig. She kept coming back to the same answer—Heather. Since Heather was one of Buck’s ex-wives—his fourth ex-wife to be exact—Agatha figured there was nothing but trouble waiting for them, and she was wound tighter than a drum.

  Heather didn’t share Agatha’s anxiety. She was eating little baby corn in precise rows like it was right off the cob. She kept telling herself there was nothing to feel awkward about. It was totally normal to invite all your ex-wives to the home you’d shared with each of them. Right?

  “Stop,” Agatha hissed as Heather started in on another baby corn. “Everyone is looking at you like you just fell off the turnip truck.”

  Heather snorted. “Darling, they’re looking at me because I look every bit like the five million dollars I got in my divorce settlement and they’re jealous. These people are all the same. Not a genuine soul in the lot of them.”

  Agatha looked across the hundreds of people who’d gathered over the green expanse of lawn and around the Olympic-sized swimming pool where the conversation flowed as freely as the margaritas.

  “Then I’ll ask again,” Agatha said. “What in the heck are we doing here?”

  “Don’t be such a stick in the mud,” Heather said. “Have fun. I’ve counted thirty-two eligible bachelors since we walked through the door, and they all have very nice portfolios. You should try one on for size.” Heather waggled her eyebrows.

  Agatha didn’t figure it was worth asking how Heather knew about their portfolios. When it came to money and men, Heather was better than a crystal ball.

  “I’m with Hank,” Agatha said. “And these men would bore me to tears. Not an original thought between them. Not to mention the fact that I don’t look like a Barbie doll.”

  The women who were working their charms on the thirty-two eligible bachelors, and some who weren’t so eligible, looked like they could’ve been cut from the same sorority magazine. The dress was anything from star-spangled sequins to barely there bikinis, and Agatha looked down at her own little black dress and cowboy boots and felt even more out of place. She looked like wallpaper standing next to Heather in her electric blue halter dress.

  “Honey, you don’t marry them for their thoughts. You marry them for the diamonds.” Heather shook her head sadly. “I just don’t know where I went wrong with you. You’d think I would’ve rubbed off on you at least a little over the last thirty-something years.”

  Agatha smiled, feeling herself relax for the first time. “And I love you anyway. Now let’s get out of here and drive through Taco Cabana on the way home.”

  Heather’s laugh sounded like a tinkle of bells. “We can’t leave yet. Not until I know why Buck wanted me to be here so bad. He said he had something important to tell me.”

  “What do you think it is?”

  “I think he wants me back. I might dangle him along for a little bit, but that ship has sailed, so I’ll have to disappoint him.”

  “I’m sure his current wife will be relieved,” Agatha said. “She’s the one who’s been shooting daggers at you ever since we came through the door.”

  “A little competition is good for the soul.”

  “That’s a lot of competition,” Agatha said. “Buck was married three times before you, and he’s been married twice after. They’re all here and probably thinking the same thing. I say we get out of here and let them fight over whatever pot Buck is stirring.”

  “It’s not like I’m going to take him back,” Heather said. “I just want to play a little and see what he’s up to. You know Karl is trying to make an honest woman out of me.”

  “Does Karl know you’re here?”

  Heather pouted. “I said he’s trying to make an honest woman out of me. Not that he’s succeeded. Besides, Buck sounded sad on the phone. Like he needed a friend. And whatever we were, or how we ended up, we were always friends.”

  A splash and a scream over by the pool had Agatha jerking around to see what the commotion was all about, but one of the eligible bachelors had jumped in with a bikini-clad woman and she was giving him heck for messing up her hair.

  “I’m just saying,” Agatha said. “My gut is screaming over this. Stay out of whatever it is he’s trying to drag you into.”

  There was no answer, and when Agatha turned back to where Heather had been standing, there was nothing but an empty margarita glass and half a baby corn on an empty tray.

  Agatha sighed and pulled out her phone to send Hank a quick text.

  Heather abandoned me. Wish you were here.

  It wasn’t long before Hank responded. I miss you like crazy, but you couldn’t drag me to that thing in a million years. Hurry back.

  Agatha smiled and went to find Heather. She had a feeling she was with Buck, and Buck should’ve been easy to find. The man was just past seventy, but he still looked good, probably with the help of a little cosmetic surgery. He looked like an older version of Troy Aikman, and even shared the same height.

  Agatha wasn’t exactly a shrinking violet. She was close to six-feet in her boots and it was easy to see her over the crowd. She didn’t see Heather or Buck, and she let out another sigh just before all heck broke loose.

  There was a shrill scream from inside the house that cut through the conversation and Eighties cover band like a knife. Everyone stopped and stared as a streak of electric blue came running out th
e back door of the house. Agatha shook her head and wondered which of Buck’s ex-wives she’d gotten into a fight with. Drama followed Heather around like a dog in heat.

  Heather’s white blonde hair looked like it had tangled with an egg beater, and she kept screaming as she cut through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. It wasn’t until Heather got closer that Agatha could see the genuine fear on her friend’s pale face, and she was so distraught she didn’t even realize she was heading straight for the pool.

  Agatha started in her direction and heard Heather scream out, “He’s dead!” just before she tripped into the water.

  Chapter Two

  The wait staff fished Heather out of the pool with the long handled skimming net, and they tossed a tablecloth over her man-made life preservers that had kept her floating at the surface.

  There were snickers and looks of pity from the onlookers, and after the initial commotion, it seemed everyone thought Heather had just celebrated America’s independence with one too many margaritas, so they went back to their conversations and the familiar sounds of “Come on Eileen” came from the band.

  Agatha grabbed hold of Heather and moved her to the little gazebo at the edge of the lawn so they’d have some privacy.

  “Have you lost your mind?” Agatha asked. “This is not the time or the place for drama.”

  Heather’s pale face crumpled, and she started to sob uncontrollably. Some people might have felt a little empathy for Heather, but this wasn’t Agatha’s first rodeo when it came to Heather’s histrionics. Heather could be sweet, and she was a good friend, but she was selfish and a bit of an attention hog. And if the attention wasn’t directed at her, she was going to do something to make sure it was.

  Agatha smacked her on the side of the cheek a couple of times to get Heather to stop crying long enough so she could understand what she was saying. “How many of those margaritas did you have to drink?”

  “I’m not drunk,” Heather said between snuffles. “He’s dead. I saw him.”

  Agatha rolled her eyes. She hated to admit that they’d been through this before too. Heather had once thought one of her lovers had died after a rather rambunctious bout of lovemaking, but it turned out the guy was just sleeping deeply, and he didn’t have his hearing aids in so he couldn’t hear her call his name to try and wake him up. By the time the poor guy opened his eyes the ambulance, cops, fire department, half of the neighborhood, and the guy’s wife knew he was in Heather’s bed.

  “Who’s dead?” Agatha asked.

  “Buck,” Heather said, going into another round of sobs. “Ddd…dead.”

  “Are you sure?” Agatha asked hesitantly. “Honey, did you sleep with Buck?”

  Heather gasped. “Agatha Harley, of course I didn’t. It’s not like last time. Buck told me he needed to tell me something. I told you that’s why we’re here. And why you were prattling on about your gut and feeling self-conscious about your outfit, Buck texted and asked me to meet him.”

  “Where did you meet him?” Agatha asked.

  “In his bedroom.”

  Agatha arched a brow and sighed. “You’re not helping yourself any. Candy is still shooting daggers at you, especially now that everyone’s talking about you. Why in the world were you in his bedroom?”

  “I told you,” Heather said, the color starting to come back into her cheeks. At least the expensive cosmetics she wore hadn’t left her with raccoon eyes. She looked like a drowned cat who was about to start clawing. “That’s where he wanted to meet me.”

  There was no point in mentioning the fact that meeting a married man in his bedroom probably wasn’t the best idea. But it’s not like Heather had ever listened to her advice.

  “Come on,” Agatha said, tugging on Heather’s arm. “We need to go check.”

  “I’m not going back in there, Agatha Harley. You can’t make me. I can’t deal with dead people. I’m not a weirdo like you.”

  Agatha ignored the insult. Since writing about dead people paid her bills, she didn’t take Heather’s words to heart.

  “What if he’s not dead, or needs help?” Agatha said. “You can’t just leave him in there. Plus, I don’t know where I’m going.”

  Agatha finally got Heather to her feet, and they started making their way back to the house, ignoring the pointed stares and not so quiet whispers about Heather’s sobriety.

  The band was playing a mediocre rendition of a Tears for Fears medley, and Agatha felt a headache brewing at the base of her neck. They moved toward a private corridor that had been roped off for the party, and Agatha’s gut started screaming a little louder.

  “Always listen to your gut,” she said under her breath.

  “What’s that?” Heather asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “That’s the door,” Heather said, pointing to a dark-paneled door. “I can’t believe he’s dead in our bedroom.”

  “Honey, that hasn’t been your bedroom for a long time, and that’s probably something you don’t want the current Mrs. Hazard to overhear.”

  “Well, it’s his private bedroom attached to his executive office. He liked to work a little, and then I’d sometimes interrupt him so we could play a little. Of course, at his age, he wasn’t able to walk too far for either, so he had this private area added onto the house just off the pool.”

  Agatha eased the bedroom door open and she clamped a hand over her mouth and nose. The odor was so overwhelming her eyes started to water. It wasn’t the scent of death that she’d expected. It was some kind of scent diffuser that made the room smell like a nursing home on steroids. A mix between Mentholatum and unpleasant bodily functions.

  “Well?” Heather asked. She put a hand over her eyes and grabbed onto the back of Agatha’s dress so she could be led inside the room. “I just can’t look. Tell me what you see?”

  “Did you touch anything in here?” Agatha asked.

  “I’m not sure, why?”

  “Because you’re right. Buck is dead, and if your prints are anywhere they shouldn’t be, you might be spending the night in jail.”

  Heather’s knees buckled and Agatha grabbed hold of her before she hit the floor.

  “Snap out of it, girl,” Agatha said. “Time to be Texas tough. I suggest we call the cops.” She dug in her handbag for a package of tissues and used it to wipe hers and Heather’s prints from the door knob before closing it.

  As they turned down the hall, a Hispanic woman in a plain black dress and a white apron came toward them. She was small and wizened and could have been anywhere from forty to a hundred. Her eyes were black as coal and her lipstick bright red.

  “Shoo,” she said, waving her hands at them like vermin. “Vámonos. No guests.”

  “We were looking for the bathroom,” Agatha lied.

  “Señora Candy says no one bother Señor Book,” the housekeeper said.

  “Señor Book?” Heather repeated, her Texas accent butchering the words. “I don’t understand.”

  “Que Book?” The housekeeper asked, just as confused as Heather. “Book, Book. Mr. Book.”

  “Ohhhhh,” Heather said, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Mr. Buck.”

  “Sí, sí. Mr. Book. Leave alone. Señora Candy says needs sleep.”

  “Yeah, I bet she did,” Agatha said, narrowing her eyes. She’d found it odd that Candy had joined in with the rest of the crowd in thinking Heather was a drunken party-goer, but if someone had told Agatha that her husband was dead, she’d have at least gone to check on him.

  Agatha led Heather to the powder room off the foyer so she could clean up, and she pulled out her phone. “I think I’d better call Hank.”

  “And maybe I could have another margarita?” Heather asked. “I think I need something for my nerves.”

  “Try coffee,” Agatha said. “It works wonders. Stay here and don’t move.”

  Heather pouted. “I’m not a child.”

  Agatha just smiled thinly and moved off to find a quiet place so she c
ould call Hank.

  “Hey,” Hank said. “I was just thinking about you. How’s the party?”

  “It depends on how you define party,” Agatha said. “If it means lifestyles of the rich and famous invaded by the host’s ex-wife, who surreptitiously ran head-long into the pool after finding said ex-husband dead in his bed, then I’d say it’s a heck of a party.”

  There was a long stretch of silence on the other end of the line, and then Hank asked, “Did she kill him?”

  It was hard to surprise a seasoned homicide detective.

  “No,” Agatha said. “At least, I don’t think so.”

  “Wait, you’re not kidding?” he asked.

  “Because telling you someone died is my normal brand of humor?”

  She could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

  “Did you verify?” he asked.

  “Yep,” she said. “Dead as a doornail. I opened the bedroom door and saw him on the bed. I didn’t see any blood or injury. But dead is dead. I closed the door and wiped my prints.”

  “Why was Heather in her ex-husband’s bedroom?”

  “She’s innocent,” Agatha said automatically.

  “She might be a lot of things, Aggie, but innocent isn’t one of them.”

  Hank was the only person on the planet who could get away with calling her Aggie. “What should I do now? Heather yelled out that Buck was dead right before she went into the pool, but everyone thought she was drunk so no one took her seriously. But they’re going to remember she said that as soon as his body is discovered.”