Dangerous Dalliances: Book #6 in the Jenny McNair Mystery Series

By Felicity Nisbet

When Jenny McNair travels to the charming town of Ojai, California to visit her best friend, she unexpectedly lands in the midst of a real estate retreat. Not only does the detective and spiritual counselor have little interest in learning about real estate, but she soon discovers that, unlike the special town where her friend lives, this so-called retreat is anything but a peaceful, calm haven. Rather, the atmosphere is competitive and hostile and soon turns tragic when one of the agents is pushed off a cliff to her death. Jenny meets all the suspects, and, with the help of her Scottish detective father and Scottish professor husband, she assists the police in solving the crime.
Unfortunately they are not able to do it before a second death occurs. Jenny delves into the lives of, not only the suspects, but of the victims and their families, learning about their backgrounds, relationships, personalities, as well as discovering their darkest secrets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Felicity Nisbet
• Release date: Jul 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005501372

Book preview

DANGEROUS DALLIANCES

Book #6 in the Jenny McNair Mystery Series

Written by Felicity Nisbet

©2016-2018 by Felicity Nisbet

Cover by Mary Sue Roberts

First edition published 2016 by The Fiction Works

Second edition published 2018 by Felicity Nisbet

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced without written permission, except for brief quotations to books and critical reviews. This story is a work of fiction. Characters and events are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Chapter One

IT HAD BEEN FAR too long since I’d seen my best friend. Ten months, a divorce, and a new marriage to be exact. Caroline had moved from Seattle to Ojai, a tiny town in Southern California, almost two years ago. During that time, she had made a couple of trips north, but I was yet to visit her new home. As I said, a divorce and a new marriage—to say nothing of the cases my detective father had roped me into helping him with—had kept me busy. But freshly back from honeymooning in Scotland, I was here now.

As I entered the intimate airport, I scanned the crowd expectantly. Caroline would be as excited as I was by this reunion. However, after three minutes, I accepted the fact that she wasn’t there. My friend was annoyingly prompt. And after enticing me with Ojai’s famous pink moment that she claimed could take your breath away, I knew that not rain nor sleet nor snow would have kept her from meeting me at the airport in Santa Barbara. Apparently something else had.

Granted, I had shown up a day early, but I had left messages on both her home phone yesterday and her cell this morning. That should have been plenty of warning for her to meet my flight, or if she wasn’t available, to at least respond to my messages.

After collecting my suitcase, I pressed her number into my cell and waited. It went directly to voice mail. Uncharacteristic again. I quickly texted my new husband to let him know I had arrived safely, and I headed for the rental car counter, reconciled to the fact that I was going to have to transport myself. Once buckled into the Camry hybrid, I put the Ojai address into my GPS and started driving.

An hour and fifteen minutes later I arrived at the Spanish style home sheltered by a row of eucalyptus trees that was in stark contrast to Caroline and Mike’s Seattle Queen Anne vintage home. I was not surprised by the echo of silence. There were no cars in sight, and a sad abandoned feeling permeated the atmosphere. Still, I approached the door, not certain what I expected to find. Even in this small town, I seriously doubted that the doors would be left unlocked.

I quickly discovered that I was right. Not even Benny and Joon were there. Had Caroline forgotten I was coming? Even if she wasn’t expecting me until tomorrow, she would be close by. I could almost convince myself that she had simply taken the dogs for a walk. I would have succeeded, if not for the anxiety building in my stomach. That kind of tension was always a message. Unfortunately I could never determine if it was trying to tell me that something had happened or if it was a premonition that something was going to happen. In an attempt to soothe my bewildered stomach, I sat on the patio swing and waited for twenty minutes.

Just as I concluded that I was going to have to find a hotel, my cell phone rang. I pressed it to my ear and answered, Caroline?

Jenny? Are you home from Scotland?

Obviously she hadn’t gotten my messages. I am.

Great! And you’ll be here tomorrow?

I started breathing more easily now that I knew my friend was okay. I scolded myself for all that needless worrying. Actually, at this moment, I’m standing in front of a very charming, very Spanish style house in—I think it’s called the Arbolada? I remembered the name of the neighborhood in Ojai about which my friend had talked for numerous hours.

You’re at my house!

You didn’t get my message.

Our cell service up here is intermittent at best. I just saw that you had called, so I called you right away.

Where is up here? I asked.

We’re still on our retreat.

Your retreat?

Yes, our real estate office went on a retreat, about forty minutes outside of Ojai. Why are you a day early?

Because my sweet husband got roped into giving a guest lecture in Bellingham so we flew home early. As soon as we landed, he took off for Bellingham, and I jumped on a plane to see my best friend. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. I should have made sure you got my messages.

It’s no problem. We’ll head home now.

Don’t you dare. Just tell me where the key is hidden, and I’ll let myself in.

There isn’t one.

That’s okay. I’m sure I can figure out how to break in.

Lovely.

Hey, it’s what I do.

I know that, but if you’re here, I want to see you. So either we come to you or you come to us.

"We as in you, Mike, and the girls?"

I heard her smile through the phone waves. Just Mike and me. The girls are still at school. They’re coming home tomorrow for spring break.

I wasn’t about to force her to miss out on her retreat—and time away with her adorable husband—so I pulled out two of my detective tools— a notebook and pen—and wrote down directions. You’re sure they’ll let me crash your office retreat?

Sure. There are three spare cottages so I’m sure it won’t be a problem.

Okay, I’m on my way.

Sounds good, but Jenny?

I climbed back into the car and pushed the button to start it. What’s wrong?

I just thought I should warn you.

Warn me? About?

It might be a retreat we’re on, but I’m beginning to think that’s a misnomer.

How so?

Let’s just say this isn’t the most amicable group of people I’ve ever been around. I could feel her cringe. Hostility is pretty much running rampant around here.

Sounds interesting.

You’re not kidding. I’m seeing sides of my colleagues I’ve never seen before. Probably because I work mostly from home, which I think I’ll stick to doing. Benny and Joon are definitely better company. Hurry, okay? I can’t wait to see you.

I will, I said, wondering if this was a wise decision after all. I desperately wanted to spend time with my best friend, but I had expected that time to be filled with peace and calm and laughter and a lot of catching up. Oh, well, it was only for one day. I could survive that, couldn’t I? I wondered just as I noticed that the tension in my stomach wasn’t completely gone.

AN HOUR LATER, I was standing beside a picnic table, hugging my best friend. The air was filled with the scent of eucalyptus trees and some kind of blossom—unfamiliar to me. Is that oranges I’m smelling? I asked her.

It’s from the valley. The scent is wafting all the way up here. It’s heavenly, isn’t it?

It is.

I talked to the management already and got you a cabin. She motioned toward the cozy cottage behind us. Do you want to settle in?

I was tired and jetlagged, but the fresh air was helping to revive me. I think I want to sit here for a few minutes. It’s beautiful outside, and to tell you the truth, I’m tired of being inside. I never had been a fan of airplanes, especially ones that crossed the Atlantic Ocean.

We sat down at the picnic table facing each other. Just the expression on her face was a tip off. I knew exactly what subject she was about to broach. But before she could, a stunning woman came strutting past us. She had jet black hair and spectacular green eyes, and a presence that commanded the attention of everyone around her. She was an exotic beauty and she knew it. At least her condescending smile said that she did.

Hello, Jane, Caroline greeted her.

She looked up as if she hadn’t even noticed us until that moment. Oh, hello, Caroline.

Jane, I’d like you to meet my friend Jenny. She’s just flown in from—

Have you seen Shane? the woman asked, not so much ignoring my existence as not having noticed it in the first place.

Uh, no, I haven’t. Oh, wait. I did see him a while ago with Nancy.

Where were they?

Uh, on the steps to their cottage I think. But wait a minute— I saw him with Chelsea after that.

Her entire presence stiffened, and I half expected her to say something inappropriate. She didn’t disappoint me. Bastard. Where?

Caroline, obviously startled by Jane’s choice of words to describe this Shane person, cleared her throat and motioned toward a large building which I assumed housed the dining room and meeting center.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you about the level of hostility, Caroline said after Jane had hurried off in that direction. I’m really sorry about this. We should be off at the spa or something, having a mud bath.

I raised a single eyebrow in response to that suggestion. I enjoyed mud immensely—when I was doing my pottery. But covering my face and body? Not so much.

I know, not exactly your style. She laughed but then turned serious, and I knew she had not forgotten what she was going to say before the exotic cyclone had whirled past us. I’m really sorry I wasn’t there for you, Jenny. That I wasn’t there when you discovered that Joe had—

Cheated on me?

Her nod was solemn. How bad was it?

Well, it wasn’t good. Shocking is the word that comes to mind. But after I calmed down, I realized that I too had contributed to the demise of my marriage.

Caroline smirked and shook her head. Has it ever occurred to you, Jenny McNair, that you are entirely too fair and forgiving?

Don’t let my mature attitude fool you, I told her. There have been plenty of moments when I felt like kicking the man in the teeth—or elsewhere.

She laughed, and I knew she was enjoying visualizing that event. But in the end, it all worked out for the best.

Yes, it did. I’m now married to Malcolm MacGregor and happier than I ever thought was possible.

Besides being charming and a brilliant physicist, he is a dish, isn’t he? Again her blush reflected her thoughts. I used to flirt with him unmercifully at parties.

I remember that. Even in front of Mike.

She cringed. Fortunately I have a very understanding husband.

And secure.

That too. Speaking of charming, how is your adorable dad?

Charlie? He’s good. Great.

Settled down yet?

I’m not sure that will ever happen. After what he went through with my mother, and then with his second marriage ending in divorce as well, I can’t see him ever settling down again.

Speaking of your dear mother, have you seen her lately?

Happily no. I did feel obliged to invite her to our wedding. Fortunately she declined. She must have felt the energy behind my invitation.

Caroline laughed as she often did when I spoke of energy and vibration. She really did believe in the power behind words, but she wasn’t as inclined to believe that everything is made up of energy and that we live in a mental universe.

Did you send an unspoken message inside the invitation, saying, ‘Please don’t come?’ she teased.

Pretty much, albeit unconscious. I cocked my head to the side. Well, maybe it wasn’t so unconscious. Anyway, neither she nor Charlotte came. My older sister and I did not get along any better than my mother and I did.

I’m really sorry I wasn’t there, Jenny. You know I would have been. If Mike hadn’t surprised me with that cruise to Mexico.

Don’t apologize. I understand. Besides, we’re making up for it now.

Who did come?

Just a few friends, mostly family. The kids and Charlie, of course. And Bryn came, and Cameron brought his family. It was wonderful.

How are your little sister and brother?

Good. Bryn is doing better every time I see her. And Cameron is great as always. Happily married, proud papa.

Speaking of happily married, I’ve never seen you look so . . . serene. You’re positively glowing.

What? I didn’t glow when I was with Joe?

Maybe in the beginning. She studied me thoroughly. Hmm, never quite like this.

My smirk was close to a confession. Sometimes I think I’ve always been in love with Malcolm MacGregor.

You weren’t the only one. I think we all fell for him. Best looking professor on campus by far.

True, but I think—

Yeah, I kind of always wondered about that myself. You two seemed so in sync, so compatible. And he was so obviously head over heels for you.

You knew that?

One glance at him when he was looking at you, it was easy to see.

Poor Joe.

She slapped my hand. Don’t go feeling sorry for your cheating husband. You never gave him cause to mistrust you.

Maybe not, but he must have known how Malcolm felt about me.

Good.

Now I slapped her hand. She wasn’t very good about disguising her feelings for people who cheated on their spouses, especially when their spouse was her best friend.

Do you and Malcolm still call each other by your last names? Left over from your professor-student days? She remembered.

Yep, it’s still MacGregor and McNair.

Did you take his last name when you got married?

I did, but I kept McNair as my middle name, despite the mouthful it creates. And I do still use McNair professionally.

How are the kids with it all? How are Matthew and Holly feeling about your getting married so soon after the divorce?

Matthew’s been great about it, but then he’s still angry at Joe, and he’s always been very fond of Malcolm. Holly was a tougher sell.

Not surprising. She and Joe were always so close.

True, but she finally came around when she was home for Thanksgiving.

Caroline gave me a look of surprise. Or was it shock? She knew my daughter well. How did that happen? She was only home for what? A week?

Well, Malcolm and I happened to be on a ferry when we spotted some drowning puppies. We rescued the litter. Turned out to be English setters mixed with something else. He was the one who convinced me to let her keep one.

Caroline laughed. That would do it. The girl always was crazy about dogs, and Joe never let her have one, right?

Right. But I was against her taking one of these at first, considering that she’s going to college on the East Coast.

Good point.

But my sweet husband pointed out that now that we have Rocky—another rescue dog from one of the San Juan Islands—we might as well have two.

Rocky and Lucy. While my friend was inclined to name her dogs after characters in movies, I went for characters in Beatles’ songs.

Caroline wrapped her arms around her waist as she laughed. Nothing has changed. Always the rescuer, aren’t you? First a boy from an island, then a dog.

Actually, I rescued Rocky first. Then Josh.

How is he doing, by the way?

Great. He fits in so well with our family, it’s as if he’s always been there. He and Charlie are best friends now, both being jazz musicians. He spends as much time at Charlie’s as he does with us. It helps that Charlie lives across the street from us.

My smile spread across my face as I pictured my father and my foster son strutting down the street together or standing on a stage blowing their trumpet and sax. How much my life had changed in the span of a year. I was wrong. It wasn’t just a divorce and a marriage since I’d seen my best friend. It was also an increase in my family by a son and two dogs. Life had never been so good.

I’m just glad you’re happy now, Jenny. Caroline took my hand and squeezed it.

I’ve always been happy.

Maybe, but not like this. She leaned over and kissed my cheek. In fact, you look radiant, Jenny.

Radiant? After a trans-Atlantic flight?

I mean it. You look younger. Apparently being married to Malcolm MacGregor agrees with you.

Apparently your beloved town of Ojai and the California sunshine agree with you. You’re the one who’s looking younger.

Slightly self-conscious, but pleased by my comment, she tucked her brown hair that was a shade darker and several inches longer than mine, behind her ears. She was blessed with exuberant waves. I, on the other hand, had shy waves that struggled on a daily basis to make an appearance. And right now they were feeling more tired and drab than usual.

I should probably go to my cabin and unpack. As long as I don’t go near the bed, I should be able to hang in there for a few more hours.

Maybe you should take a nap before dinner. She grabbed my suitcase while I carried my purse and carry-on bag up the stairs to the cabin.

The yawn that followed her suggestion convinced me that she was right, especially when she swung open the door, and my eyes strayed directly to the queen-sized four-poster bed with a country quilt. Maybe I should.

Mike’s having one now.

I wondered where he was.

He’s had more naps on this retreat than I’ve ever seen him take. She frowned. Although it may have nothing to do with being tired. Except maybe of the nastiness that’s been flying around the place. And here I naively thought a retreat was supposed to bring people together.

Is it really that bad? Although from what I’d seen of one of her colleagues, I already had my answer.

Oh, yeah. I can’t believe how hostile some of these women are towards each other. Her look was bewildered. At first I thought they were just competing for top producer or something, but I’m beginning to think it’s about something else. And I’m not sure I want to know what that is. Other than the time away from work and cherished time away with my husband, this has not been the retreat I had expected.

Are you sure it’s okay if I join your group for dinner? Did I even want to?

Hey, if the other agents are bent out of shape, I’ll just tell them you’re moving to Ojai to work with me.

Yeah, right.

What? You don’t want to play real estate agent?

I couldn’t fake that if my life depended on it. I’ve bought and sold exactly one house in my lifetime, and all I really did was sign on the dotted line . . . that someone had highlighted for me.

Caroline rolled her eyes. You’re a much better fake than you give yourself credit for, Jenny McNair.

I wasn’t sure that was a compliment, but it was a necessary part of being a detective. Thanks? I think.

Besides, it’s not all that hard, especially considering that most of what we study and learn prior to getting our license has little to do with the actual practice of real estate.

Another yawn. Fine. Whatever you think is best. Just so I’m fed before the day is out. I know it’s only afternoon for you, but it’s way past my dinner time.

Don’t worry, we’ll feed you. I’ll stop by in a couple hours to get you up. She hugged me and headed for the door. Just one question, Jenny.

What?

Are you still doing pottery?

More than ever. I have a wheel set up on the island. And my new husband just set up one for me in the garage of his—our—house in Seattle.

She grinned and hugged me. I knew I liked our Professor MacGregor. I’ve always believed that the happier you are, the more pots you throw—and don’t smash.

And here I’d thought I was the perceptive one.

After washing up, I climbed beneath the sheets of the cozy four-poster bed. As soon as my head touched the pillow, I realized Caroline had been right. I desperately needed a nap. The peace and quiet of this enchanting country cottage was going to be an unexpected treat, I decided.

No sooner had I had that thought than I heard two voices yelling back and forth. There went my peace and quiet. If they persisted, I would need earplugs if I was going to take a nap. Damn. I tried putting the pillow over my head, but the escalating anger managed to penetrate.

Groaning, I climbed out of bed and opened the door of the cottage. The volume of the voices instantly heightened. Females. Two of them, coming from the grove of oak trees on the other side of the picnic tables. Name calling. Accusations. They sounded like a couple of junior high school girls. I really did not want to have to go over there and ask them to be a bit quieter, especially considering that I was the interloper here, crashing their retreat. Retreat? I almost laughed at the irony. The hostile environment Caroline had described was accurate. Unfortunately, for a change, she had not been exaggerating.

Don’t you dare! was yelled with such seething fierceness that it stopped me before I made it out the door.

Or what! What will you do to me, you pathetic whore?

You don’t even want to know!

Whoa. As much as I wanted to turn around and take refuge in my cottage and pretend I hadn’t witnessed this fight, it was not in me to ignore something this venomous. But before I reached the oak tree, the two women had vanished. One was completely out of sight, and for a moment I thought I had hallucinated the entire event. But then I spotted an easily identifiable feature that convinced me that, albeit jetlagged, I was definitely sane and sober. There, flying out behind her as if in a rage equal to her mood, was a stream of beautiful jet black hair. The exotic cyclone herself. Jane.

Chapter Two

I FELT AS IF I WERE buried inside a deep shield of fog. Where was I anyway? I forced my eyes to open as the voices infiltrated my slumber. I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted to stay there in that protective fog for another hour or ten. My hand slid out from beneath the covers to feel the quilt that was on top of me. It was starting to come back to me. A little bit. But who was talking? Actually, whispering? Loudly. And why did it feel like déjà vu?

Reluctantly I pushed back the covers and stumbled out of bed and over to the window that was cracked open enough to allow me to hear the voices. When I gazed outside, I could see three very blond girls. Very real girls. Not a figment of my imagination. Were they sisters? They looked like sisters. Teenagers? They looked like teenagers. Conspiring or arguing? They sounded as if they were conspiring . . . and arguing. Still, their voices were not above a loud whisper. Contradictory description? Very possibly, but it was the best I could do in my condition. Was I hung over? I glanced around the room and my memory was quickly restored. Jetlagged. Not so different.

We have to do something! one voice said.

What can we do? She’s been like this forever! She’s not going to change now, another voice. Not for us.

Ivy’s right. She’s destroying Dad. The quietest voice. And youngest?

You don’t think I know that? But what are we supposed to do?

Make her stop.

I wasn’t sure which one was saying what because one of the girls had glanced up toward my window, forcing me to step out of sight.

Right. And how are we supposed to do that? This one definitely had a sarcastic edge to her voice. I peeked out again. Definitely the oldest of the three.

We could talk to her. That came from the quiet voice.

Right, and tell her what, exactly? Like she’d ever listen to us anyway. Sarcastic voice again.

Maybe it’s time we made her listen. Whoa. It wasn’t only the words, it was the hostility with which they were laced.

Despite my effort to stifle my cough, it escaped. I stepped further away from the window and grabbed a pillow to bury my face for the second cough.

Shit, someone’s in there! Hostile voice.

Do you think they heard us? Quiet voice.

Who cares? We didn’t say anything outrageous. Sarcastic voice.

Depends who it is. Hostile voice.

What? You think it’s Mom? In that cabin? Sarcastic voice. With someone?

Shhh! Let’s get out of here. Quiet voice might be the youngest, but she was apparently the wisest. If they were afraid their mother could hear them, what were they doing continuing to talk beneath the window?

When I heard footsteps crunching leaves and stones, I peeked out again. Definitely sisters. Definitely angry sisters. Definitely sisters who were not happy with their mother. Now all I had to do was figure out who their mother was. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as if I was on a case here and was trying to figure out who had done someone in. But my curiosity was one of the reasons I made a good detective. That and, as my father insisted, I had a knack for it, and a powerful intuition.

I closed the curtain and climbed back into the bed. But I couldn’t fall back to sleep. The three desperate voices kept ringing in my head. There was something about them. They weren’t just the typical teenagers, angry at their mother. Especially considering that they were worried about their father.

Jenny? A light tap on the door caused me to sit up.

Caroline? Come on in. It’s not locked. An island habit, I supposed. I rarely locked my cottage on the island. And this was a retreat off in a beautiful mountain wilderness. Surely it was as safe as my little San Juan island.

It’s almost time for dinner. Do you want to shower first?

I’ll wait until after dinner. I want to soak in that lovely claw-foot tub in there. It will assure me of a long peaceful sleep too.

Okay, then get dressed and let’s go eat. We’ll make it an early night.

You don’t have to, but I’m sure I will. I slipped out of my pajama bottoms and T-shirt and into a skirt and blouse. It was pretty much the only climate-appropriate outfit I had with me. I had, after all, just flown in from Scotland.

Reading my mind—and possibly eyeballing the contents of my suitcase—Caroline said, Don’t worry, you can borrow. We’re still the same size.

I might need to, I told her. Judging from the temperature when I got off the plane, I should have gone home and repacked before heading down here. Unless the weather changes dramatically, I won’t be needing my Irish fisherman knit sweaters and woolen slacks.

You’ll borrow, Caroline said as she inserted her arm through mine and guided me out the door and toward the large building with weathered clapboard siding. It’s cooler up here in the mountains, but it’s definitely spring in Ojai. And spring is gloriously warm.

As Caroline whisked me into the dining room, Mike strode across the room to greet me, Jenny!

Hey, Mike.

He released me from the hug but held my arms gently, looking into my eyes. It was something I appreciated about my best friend’s husband, his willingness to look people directly in the eye.

We’ve missed you, he said softly, and I knew he meant Caroline had missed me, and because she had, she’d depended on his company more than when they’d lived in Seattle.

I’ve missed you too. Seattle hasn’t been the same without you.

He chuckled and shoved his fingers through his light brown hair. I’m sure it hasn’t.

I kissed him lightly on the cheek and winked at Caroline. Still cute as a button, in a tough guy kind of way.

Mike rolled his eyes, but I caught the amusement in them. Leaning in closer, he said, So, the story is, you’re moving here and will be working with Caroline?

I cringed. Do I really need a story? Just to get me dinner?

Who knows with these—interesting Realtors.

He means cranky, Caroline said quietly. And snarky.

And quarrelsome.

Probably the most accurate description, Caroline agreed. They’ll fight about anything. And I’d just as soon they weren’t snarky to my best friend.

Mike nodded his agreement. "Needless to say, I don’t think this retreat is having the positive effect it was