Death Before Decaf (25 page)

“What about it?”

“Detective Cromwell says there's brain on the wall.”

“Sick. Didn't the police collect it all as evidence?”

“Not everything, I guess. He said my renters insurance would probably cover the cost to have a trauma cleaner come in and get all of the goo off.”

“I take it you don't want to stay there until that happens.”

“Not really.”

He hesitated. “Do you…already have a place to stay? Are you and Ryder a thing?”

“No. We're finished.”

Brightening, he asked, “Will you stay with me, then? I have an extra room, you know.”

“I'd love to stay with you. Thanks, Pete. You always take good care of me.”

He put his arm around my shoulders. “That's what I'm here for. I'm suddenly starving. Want to order a pizza?”

“Don't we need to get back to work?”

“No, you're on a mandatory break. Deal with it, Langley.”

Our pizza arrived shortly after that, and we ate while we watched a VH1
Behind the Music
special on Meatloaf. Despite his musical snobbery, Pete loved Meatloaf.

I asked, “So, roomie, is this how living together is going to be? Pizza, beer, and TV watching? If so, I'm totally in.”

“Yes, unless Cecilia comes over. Then we have to serve wine and cheese and listen to jazz.”

Giggling, I said, “If she comes over, I'm probably going to have to vacate the premises.”

“That would probably be best.”

“Seriously, Pete. Why did you get back with her? You don't even like wine and cheese, or ‘boring chicks with no sense of humor.' You called her that once. Remember?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I don't know. She's okay…I guess I just don't want to be alone.”

I understood. I wouldn't allow myself to give it a go with Pete, but I didn't want to be alone, either. I would have enjoyed being with Ryder—I truly liked him. But there was no way I could handle the lying. Being an undercover cop, he basically lied for a living, and I didn't feel like I could ever be sure whether he was telling me the truth or not. There was no reason to put myself through that, so why bother? I would cut my losses and move on. Eventually.

“I get that,” I said quietly.

“But now
you're
going to be alone.”

Glancing over at him, I said, “Does that make a difference in your decision?”

He hesitated. “No?”

“That didn't sound convincing, Pete.” But I realized it
did
make me happy.

“So what do we do, Jules?”

I held up my hands. “Don't look at me. I've been traumatized, and now I'm temporarily homeless. I am making no major life decisions right now.”

He smiled and put his arm around me again. “I can handle that.”

Pete and I walked in the door of Java Jive, laughing over Pete's impersonation of some new little country starlet who threw a hissy fit at her recording session today. He nailed her fake Southern drawl and dead-eyed expression. His girly, falsetto voice wasn't terribly attractive, but hilarious all the same. I sobered up quickly when I spied Ryder, sitting uncomfortably at a table by himself, eating dinner.

Pete quit laughing, too, and whispered in my ear, “Why would he come back if you two are splitsville?”

I turned around to face Pete. “He doesn't know it yet.”

He winced. “Ouch. Shot and dumped on the same day. I almost feel sorry for the guy.” He broke into a grin. “Almost. If you need me, I'll be in the office. Don't make him cry too hard, Jules.”

Steeling myself for what was to come, I took a deep breath and turned around. He waved, but he wasn't smiling. I bet he had talked to Detective Cromwell. Taking the seat across from his, I said, “Hey.”

“Hey.” He looked pretty rough.

I very nearly lost my nerve, but things had to be said. I also had to be cryptic, because to everyone else in the room, Ryder was still Seth Davis, professor. “Um…I know.”

“I gathered that. Juliet, I want to tell you how sorry I am—”

I interrupted him. There was no way I was going to get through my speech without crying if he apologized at the beginning. “I'm sure you had your reasons for hiding the truth from me. I understand that you had to put your…work first. And I'm not angry, really, because it was for the greater good. But I'm hurt. And disappointed. I believed in you, and I trusted you. I gave myself to you, and now I feel used. Maybe that wasn't your intention, but that's how it seems from my perspective. I think if we hadn't gotten so close during all this, then maybe I could look past it.” I shook my head, fighting back tears. “But I can't. The problem with going forward is that I'll have no idea when you're lying to me and when you're not. I can't do that again. Maybe if I wasn't already broken I could, but I can't.”

While I was speaking, Ryder's face didn't betray any emotion, but his eyes were troubled and sad. Once I was finished, he said quietly, “I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I didn't mean for you to find out like this.”

“You're right. I should have heard it from you.”

“I know. At first, I wasn't sure that I could trust you.” His eyes darkened. “You ran and told Pete what I had told you in confidence—”

“Yeah, the
lie
you told me in confidence. And besides, I didn't tell him everything.”

“You told him enough…and then he made it his business. You know, it's not easy living in the shadow of Saint Pete.”

I wasn't mad before, but his comment about Pete set me off. I hissed, “Who are you to judge him? Pete has never lied to me once. That's the kind of relationship I need. Not whatever twisted thing we had going.”

“It sounds like you've made up your mind about us. Do I not get a say?”

“You had plenty of chances to say something, and you blew it.”

He looked angry now. “And you won't even consider giving me a second chance.”

“The only reason we're even having this discussion right now is that you got caught. Otherwise, you'd still be lying to me. I don't know if
anything
you said to me is true. All of those times that you disappeared, supposedly working, maybe you went and hung out with other women you're lying to, or maybe you went and laughed it up with your buddies downtown about how stupid I was for falling for your act.”

Wiping a hand down his face in frustration, he fumed, “You're being ridiculous. I can't believe you'd think I would do any of that. I did none of those things.”

Plenty angry, I wanted to fight. I thought back to some of the little things Ryder had told me that hadn't made sense. Specifically, when the cops supposedly let Johnny Brewer go after he injured Ryder. Lowering my voice, I said slowly, “Maybe not, but I'll tell you something you
did
do. It wasn't ‘the cops' who let Johnny out of jail after you guys had your fight. It was you.” He clenched his jaw but said nothing. I hissed, “You had the guy! Why in the hell would you let him go?”

Glaring at me, he replied, “He wouldn't talk, so I cut him loose. I knew he'd eventually make a mistake, and then I'd have my evidence.”

“And you figured, why not use Juliet as bait? She's too dumb to notice. Well, Johnny made a mistake, all right. Ron Hatcher was the one who paid the price.”

Pinching his nose in frustration, he said, “I didn't use you as bait.”

“Right. You just used me for sex.”

“I didn't hear you saying no.”

Tears stung the back of my eyes. “I think we're done here,” I said, getting up from the table. I wasn't going to let him see me cry.

“Yeah, we're done,” he growled. He stalked out the door.

I headed for the back, straight to the office. I barged in, and Pete looked up, concern on his face. Tearfully, I asked, “Can I borrow your shoulder again?”

I broke down as Pete hurried to me and swept me into his arms. I had lost count of how many times I'd had a good cry today. I was starting to feel a little pitiful for it. Usually, I got angry instead of upset, but after everything I'd put up with this week, I was one big ball of angst.

Pete was saying, “Shh, he's not worth it,” over my sobbing. He was right. Ryder was not worth my tears. He was nothing but a fun fling, and that's all. It was over, and I'd survived. Time to get over myself and get back to work.

I stopped my bawling and looked up at Pete. “You can say ‘I told you so.' I know you want to.”

He grinned. “You're right. I want to.” He kissed the top of my head. “But I'm not going to. What I
am
going to do is make you a chili donut.”

Chortling through my tears, I said, “Please, no. For the love of Pete, don't make me one of those!”

He let go of me and opened the door. “I'm doing it. And you're going to like it.”

I took a seat and grabbed a tissue. After wiping my face off, I reapplied my makeup and felt a little more human again.

Pete returned with a big bowl, the contents of which he was hiding under a napkin. He whipped the napkin away to reveal a delicious-looking ice cream sundae with brownies, strawberries, bananas, and chocolate syrup. “Sorry this isn't the culinary masterpiece you were expecting. We were out of chili.”

I bit my lip. “I'm glad we were out of chili. This looks good.” He put the bowl on the desk between us and produced two spoons. I took one and was about to take a bite, but stopped to ask, “There's nothing weird in this like pesto or hot sauce or anything, is there?”

With a mock wounded look, he said, “You doubt my mad dessert skills? That's harsh, Jules.”

“Sorry. What I meant to say was: Sometimes my unsophisticated palate can't handle your cutting-edge culinary genius.” I took a bite of the sundae. It was heavenly, and free of any odd add-ins.

“You're such an uncivilized redneck sometimes,” Pete said with his mouth full.

“Yes, that's me,” I said sarcastically. “I'm sure that's what Cecilia says.”

He laughed. “Nah, she just calls you a bitch.”

I took my spoon and flicked ice cream at him, splattering it across his neck and shoulder. He responded by flicking some back at me, which hit my cheek and ran down my chin. We looked at each other and burst out laughing. We were being too loud to hear the door open.

Speak of the devil. Cecilia was standing in the doorway, staring daggers at both of us. She had brought her friend Savannah with her, who was standing a little behind Cecilia, surveying the scene with an amused expression. Pete and I abruptly stopped laughing and both reached for a tissue to clean off the remnants of our ice cream fight.

Cecilia seethed, “Well, look at you two, sharing dessert. How sweet. Pete, I need to speak to you.”

I stood up. “I'm out,” I said, fleeing the room. If I had thought more quickly, I would have taken the sundae with me, but I'd be damned if I was going back into the lion's den to get it. Pete was about to get an ass-chewing of epic proportions.

Savannah followed me, chuckling under her breath. “Girl, you can ruffle her feathers better than anyone alive.”

I wrinkled my nose. “I don't do it on purpose, honestly.”

“I bet if you did, she couldn't even begin to handle a firecracker like you. I've heard stories from Pete.”

Grinning, I replied, “It's the hair.”

Finally feeling ready to get back to work, I took my place next to Jamie and Cole. Savannah settled at the counter, and I got her a coffee.

“We came here to get some coffee and dessert, but now I'm not so sure that we're staying,” said Savannah, shaking her head.

“I seem to have that effect on her,” I said ruefully, stopping to fill coffee for several sipsters sitting at the counter.

“Have your ears been burning lately? Because she hasn't quit jawing about you all week. It's been a little irritating, if you ask me.”

“Sorry.”

She waved her hand. “Oh, if Cecilia didn't have something to complain about, she'd have to make something up. I don't know why in the world I put up with her. Although, I have to say, her catching you and Pete cuddling twice in one week would send any good Southern gal over the edge.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “So what's the scoop? Are you two makin' whoopee behind her back, or what?”

I laughed. “No. Was it really that bad that we were sharing an ice cream sundae?”

“I reckon not. But last time, I heard you two were gazing into each other's eyes, and you were dressed as a working girl.”

Wincing, I said, “Yeah. That's a long story. It's a good one, though. I'll have to tell you about it one of these days.”

A slow smile crept across her face. “We
have
to do lunch sometime. Oh, and speaking of good stories, tell me what happened when you went looking for that bookie you asked my hubby about. Did you find him and get your name cleared?”

“Also a long story, but the short answer is yes.”

“Good. I'll have to tell Carl. He'll be happy to hear that he was able to help.”

Cecilia came huffing out of the back hallway, headed straight for Savannah and me. I said, “Later, Savannah,” and headed for the opposite end of the counter.

Cecilia snapped, “We're leaving, Savannah,” and stormed toward the door. Savannah threw me an apologetic look and took off after her. Pete stuck his head out to see if the coast was clear and made his way over to me. Poor Pete. Why did he put up with her nonsense? I didn't get it.

“That was painful,” he murmured.

“Did you tame the Dragon Lady, or did she beat you?”

Sighing, he replied, “Crisis averted, for now. I neglected to tell her that you'd be staying with me for a while.”

I rolled my eyes. “Pete, even the most understanding girlfriend in the world would get upset about that. She's going to kill you.”

Pete puffed out his chest a little. “She can get the hell over it. I told her she's not going to walk all over me like she did before.”

Surprised that he had the balls to talk back to her, I said, “Good for you. Show her who's boss.”

“Aw, she's still the boss,” he said sheepishly.

“I know.” Yeah, there was no way in hell Pete was ever going to man up and stand up to Cecilia, but I didn't press the issue.

“So are things good out here? Do you need me? I'm elbow-deep in accounting, but I'll take one for the team and help out here if you want.”

I smiled. “Quit trying to get out of the accounting. It's good. I'm good. Thanks for checking on me.”

We had a steady flow of customers, which made it easy for me not to dwell on my depression over Ryder or my exhaustion over the whole mess in general. It got to be past eight before I realized it, and amid the chaos I had nearly forgotten about my soon-to-be-busted employee's little tête-à-tête in the neighboring abandoned garage.

At 8:20, I said, “I'm going to the office. I need to place a food order. Can you guys handle it out here for a bit?” I got a nod and a “whatever.” Good enough for me.

I walked purposely down the hall, but instead of going into the office, I silently slipped out the back door. Hoping that whoever was rendezvousing with one of my staff members was not early, I eased the garage door open as quietly as I could and tiptoed inside. I used my phone for a little light and looked around for a hiding spot. There was crap everywhere, so there were several good places to hide. I chose a spot behind a tall rack of shelving stacked with moldy cardboard boxes. I had the perfect venue—I was hidden, but could still peer between the boxes. Whoever was using company time to do…well, whatever it was that they were going to do, was about to get the smackdown!