Fatal Chocolate Obsession (Death by Chocolate Book 5) (9 page)

He sat with one elbow on the counter, his hand covering the left side of his face. “I’m sorry about my dad. He can be pushy.”

“No problem. I can deal with pushy.” It was the obnoxious part I couldn’t stand. “What’s with the cap?” I grabbed the brim and lifted it…and exposed Brandon’s black eye.

He tried to cover it with his hand, but I gently pulled his fingers away. “What happened to you?” I had a horrible feeling I knew what happened to him. I remembered the way his father had talked to him in the shop. Paula had told me her ex-husband began with verbal abuse then moved on to physical.

He shrugged and tried to smile. “Hit my head on a car door.”

He was lying. I lie often enough to recognize when somebody else does it. “No, you didn’t.”

His face brightened to a shade similar to the one I wanted for my car. “I…I…”

“Did your dad do that to you?”

He dropped his gaze.

I slowly lowered my fists to the counter, resisting the urge to slam them down.

“Ma’am,” someone called from across the room. “Can I get my check?”

“I’ll be right back,” I said quietly. “Do not leave.”

He looked at me, his brown eyes lighting with happiness and gratitude, reminding me of dogs in animal shelters when someone pats their heads.

Yes, Grady Mathis was destined for an iron skillet encounter.

I gave the customer his check, Paula returned from the kitchen, and I went back to Brandon.

“Tell me what you’d like to eat, and when you’re finished, we’re going to have a talk.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, meekly.

I got his order for him, then Paula and I rushed around, taking care of the last of the lunch crowd. While we were both in the kitchen loading dirty dishes in the dishwasher, I had a chance to tell her what was going on.

She paused with a plate in her hand, compressed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t like Grady Mathis either, but it’s not a good idea to interfere in a family fight.”

“Wouldn’t you have wanted someone to help you when David was abusing you?”

She stood silently for a moment, holding the dirty plate, looking into the distance. Finally she shook her head. “I don’t know. I did wish I had a friend to talk to, somebody to help me understand what was happening. But I think I would have resented anyone telling me what I should do.”

I took the plate from her and settled it in the dishwasher. “What am I supposed to do? Let that jerk continue to hurt Brandon?”

“Brandon works and lives with his father. When you live with an abuser, it’s not always easy to escape. Add the work element, and he’s in a bad situation. You can’t offer him a place to live and a job. You can’t offer him protection.”

“I understand,” I said, though of course I didn’t since I’d never been in that situation. “But I have to try.”

Paula laughed softly. “Of course you do. And sometimes that’s a good thing. Go talk to him. I’ll take care of the two people in the corner and block the door if Brandon tries to run away while you’re telling him what to do with his life.”

I smiled at the image of Paula tackling Brandon. He was twice as big as she was but I had no doubt she could do it. She’d told me she had once been submissive and helpless but had been forced to learn to be strong to protect her son. She’d learned well.

If Paula could do it, so could Brandon. And maybe I’d check on Tina after work. Invite her to have a drink, talk to her about escaping her abuser. Yes, I’m pushy and bossy and get involved in things that are none of my business. So?

I went out front, moved Brandon’s dirty dishes aside and set a piece of chocolate pecan pie in front of him. “Eat. You’re going to need your strength.”

He did as I ordered. Good first step.

I leaned across the counter and spoke quietly. The couple in the corner didn’t need to hear our conversation. “Brandon, what your father’s doing to you isn’t right.”

Brandon stared at his plate. “He’s my father.” The words were wooden and devoid of emotion.

“I don’t care. That doesn’t give him the right to abuse you. You need to get out of that house, find your own place.”

He looked up, his expression hopeful. Maybe all he needed was someone to tell him it was all right to resent that sort of treatment. “But I work for him.”

“You can get another job. There are plenty of paint and body shops around, and with your skills, you should have no problem finding employment.” I had no idea what his skills were, but since there was a wide range of skill levels in paint and body shops, he was bound to fit in somewhere.

He didn’t answer, just sat silently staring at the display case. I suspected he wasn’t really seeing anything except inside his head, an image of his terrible plight.

“Don’t you want your own home?” I pushed. “Find someone to love you, start a family?”

“Do you have someone to love you?” The question whispered so softly through the air that I barely heard it.

“Well, yes, I think I do.” Trent did the
I’m-an-officer-of-the-law
thing to extremes, nagged me about my driving, and generally got on my nerves. But I knew he loved me. And I—

“That’s a pretty butterfly.” I was wrong. Brandon had been looking at something outside his head, probably to avoid what was going on inside.

I couldn’t let him do that. He had to face the situation. “Thank you,” I said. “Okay, first we need to find you an apartment.”

“Where did you get it?”

“What?”

“The butterfly.”

“It was a gift.”

“A gift from who? The man who loves you?”

He was trying to change the subject, avoid talking about the actual process of leaving home. I wasn’t going to let him do that, and I didn’t want to discuss that damned butterfly. I certainly did not want to tell him my sleaze ball ex-husband left it on my porch in the middle of the night. I smiled and shrugged, dismissing the blasted butterfly. “You probably need to find a place across town. Make it as difficult for your father to find you as possible.”

“You don’t like him, do you?”

“Who?” Were we still talking about that stupid butterfly?

“My dad. Do you like him?”

That was a sticky question. Even though the man was awful, he was Brandon’s father. If I said I found him totally disgusting, would Brandon feel the need to defend him and refuse to leave him? I had to think about that one for a moment. “I don’t like what your father does to you.”

“He likes you.”

Three short words that could be taken any number of ways. Considering the flirtatious way Grady Mathis acted, I wondered if Brandon was using
likes
as a synonym for
lusts
?

The phone shrieked. Brandon and I both jumped. I ignored it, knowing Paula would grab it in the kitchen.

“Your father doesn’t have the best of manners, but I only have to see him during lunch in a business setting.” I gave myself a mental pat on the back for being excruciatingly tactful. It’s not something that comes easily for me. “I don’t live with him like you do.”

Paula emerged from the kitchen. “Lindsay, Trent’s on the phone.”

“Excuse me,” I said to Brandon. “I probably ought to take this.” I hated to interrupt our conversation, but Trent only called at work if it was important.

I picked up the phone behind the counter. “Hello?”

“Do you have a minute? Is the rush over?”

“Yes and yes.” He didn’t sound frantic, but he rarely does.

“Rick’s in Pleasant Grove General Hospital. Somebody tried to kill him last night.”

“Lindsay? Are you there?” Trent’s voice sounded miles away. He was miles away.

I swallowed and found my voice. “I’m here.”

“Are you all right?”

I stood straighter. “Of course I’m all right. Are you sure somebody tried to murder him? Maybe he’s just being dramatic. He’s big on being the center of attention.”

“It’s hard to be dramatic when you’re unconscious with a head wound, a broken arm and other contusions.”

“I guess it would be tough even for Rickhead to fake something like that,” I conceded. “Tough, but not impossible.”

“Lindsay, he came close to dying.”

“Close only counts when you’re dropping an atomic bomb. How’d he get to the hospital? If you tell me he drove himself, I’m going to call
fake
.”

“His girlfriend found him in his garage lying next to his car. She was able to keep him alive until the ambulance got there. She’s a doctor.”

“This is getting to be a habit.” I sighed. “Remember a couple of years ago when Bryan Kollar tried to kill him by blowing up his car? Rick really needs to stop being such a jerk that people want to murder him. Is his new girlfriend married?”

“No, but she…” He stopped in mid-sentence.

“But she
what
? Did you just almost tell me something about the
ongoing investigation
? She’s dating a member of the mob, right? She’s a widow of a member of the mob and she killed her husband. She has an overly protective brother who’s a wrestler and takes steroids.”

He cleared his throat. “Go meet her yourself. Rick’s been asking for you.”

“Seriously? He wants me to visit him in the hospital? You’d think he’d be worried I’d finish the job.” In the interest of providing possibly useful information, maybe I should tell Trent about Rick’s middle-of-the-night gifts. But Brandon was still at the counter, and I didn’t want the world to know how completely nuts my ex was. Marrying somebody that crazy reflected badly on my judgment.

“Probably not a good idea to admit to a cop that you might murder your ex-husband,” Trent said.

I was pretty sure he was teasing, but it brought up the question of who I was talking to…the cop or my boyfriend. “Got it. So you met the new girlfriend? What kind of doctor is she? Witch doctor? Voodoo doctor? Online degree from the University of Sex on the Beach?”

“Actually, she’s a medical doctor, a surgeon.”

“You have got to be kidding me. How on earth did somebody with brains enough to be a surgeon get hooked up with Rick?”

“You married him.”

“I don’t want to talk about that. I have to go now.”

“Are you going to the hospital to see him?”

“Well, it probably would be the charitable thing to do.”

“Not to mention that you’re dying to meet this new girlfriend.”

“That too.” Actually, that was the only reason I was thinking about going and Trent knew it. There’s something both comforting and scary when someone knows you that well.

“Call me tonight and let me know how that goes.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t about to share information with him if he wouldn’t share information with me.

He laughed and hung up. Good grief. Had he also figured out what
okay
meant?

“Everything all right?” Brandon asked. He hadn’t finished his pie. Apparently he’d been listening very intently to my conversation.

I refilled his glass of tea. “Pretty much. Somebody tried unsuccessfully to kill my ex-husband.”

“I gathered that from what you said. Sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

I smiled. “It’d be hard not to when I’m only a couple of feet away.”

“Is he going to live?”

“I guess so. His girlfriend found him in time and saved his life. But he could still get a staph infection or the jealous husband could try again and succeed.”

Brandon laughed. That was good. I suspected he didn’t laugh nearly enough.

“Okay,” he said, “getting back to more important things, where do we start looking for this new apartment?”

Wow! That was easy. I usually have to argue with people a long time to convince them to do things my way. “How about Kansas City North? That should be far enough away from your father.”

A wide grin spread across his face. His black eye was a little incongruous with the happy expression, but it was better than if he’d been frowning with a black eye. “One bedroom or two?”

“Umm, well, you could start with one bedroom then move up to two when you need more space.”

I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but his smile became even wider. “When I have a wife and family. Then I’ll need a house.”

He was really running with this thing. Maybe a little too fast. Maybe his expectations were unrealistic. “One step at a time. First the apartment, then a new job, then a house.”

He nodded. “You have a house.”

“I do, yes. A small house. I got it in the divorce. Before I married Rick, I lived in an apartment.”

“I see.” He laid some bills on the counter and slid off his stool. “I’m going to go find an apartment right now.”

“Great! Uh, don’t you have to go back to work?”

“I’m not going to let my dad push me around anymore.”

“I see. Okay. Good.” At least, I hoped that was good. I was afraid the break was going to be more difficult than Brandon realized.

He strode out the door then turned to smile and wave.

“That intervention was certainly successful,” Paula said.

I hadn’t noticed her come in from the kitchen, but she’s sneaky like that. “You were eavesdropping.”

“A skill I learned from you.”

“You think he’s really going to do it?” I asked.

“I don’t know. It seemed too easy. His excitement may wear off when he sees how tough it’s going to be.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. He seemed so pumped and eager.”

She shook her head. “He’s not going to do it. Not yet anyway.”

“Probably not,” I agreed. “But I’ve planted the seed.”

“You’ve got to be patient and supportive with him. Most people who leave abusive situations make several false starts before they finally escape.” Her voice was soft, but the force of it filled the room.

“Of course I’ll be supportive. I can’t believe you’d even question that.”

“Sometimes you get a little impatient.”

“I don’t remember ever doing that.” We both knew it was a lie. There’s nothing wrong with my memory. “Let’s get this place cleaned up. I’m going to the hospital to visit Rickhead and accidentally trip and fall on his wounded body parts.”

“You’re going to see his new girlfriend.”

“Did you hear? She’s a doctor! A real doctor, not a witch doctor. What on earth can she possibly see in him?”

Paula smirked. “You married him.”

“That’s the second time today some rude person has pointed that out to me.” I grabbed Brandon’s dirty dishes and headed for the kitchen.

***

Bandages and bruises covered most of Rick’s head, chest and arms. The unbandaged parts had tubes attached making him look like a mechanical octopus.

He smiled wanly with the side of his face that wasn’t bandaged. “Lindsay, you came.” His voice was quiet and a little slurred. Pain, medication or swelling? Probably all of the above.

I moved closer to the bed. “You don’t look so good. How do you feel?”

“Good. I feel good now that you’re here.”

“What happened? Trent said somebody tried to kill you. Who’d you piss off this time?”

He made a strange sound that was probably meant to be a laugh. Hard to laugh when half your face is bandaged. “That’s my Lindsay. Call it like you see it. You never let me down.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or an insult. “So what happened? Somebody shove you under a bus?”

“The scumbag hid in my garage. In my own garage! Jumped me when I got out of the car. But I fought him. Got in a few punches before I went down.” He lifted his left hand, the bruised, unbandaged one with an IV dangling from it. “Police are checking all the hospitals. He won’t get far in the condition I left him in.”

I refrained from pointing out that physicality was not one of Rick’s strong points. His nine year old son bragged that he beat his dad at arm wrestling. Rick said he let the boy win. Rick never
let
anybody win.

“I’m sure they’ll catch him soon. Did you get a good look at him?”

“No. Coward hit me from behind. In my own garage!”

He was hung up on the garage thing. “Could be worse. It could have been in your own bathroom.”

The half smile lit his face again. Was he really laughing at my humor?

No. A female doctor had entered his room, a drop dead gorgeous female doctor. Tall and willowy with dark skin and short black curls, she could have been on the cover of a fashion magazine instead of wearing a white coat and stethoscope.

“Hi, Robin,” Rick said.

“Hello, Rick. How are you doing?” She gave him a wide smile and moved to the other side of his bed to check one of the monitors.

“Robin, Lindsay. Lindsay, Robin. Ex-wife, meet next wife.”

Robin? This gorgeous woman was the doctor/girlfriend Trent mentioned? I studied her carefully to see if I could spot the defect that made her think Rick was an appropriate partner.

The model masquerading as a doctor turned her dazzling smile on me. “Hello, Lindsay. I thought that might be you. Rick’s told me so much about you.”

“Oh, well, uh…”

“Isn’t she beautiful, Lindsay?” Rick asked. “Will you marry me, Robin?”

Doctor Robin made an adjustment to one of Rick’s IVs. “He’s a little loopy right now. We’ve got him on a lot of pain medication.”

“I didn’t notice any difference from his sober state. How’s he doing?”

“He came through the surgery quite well. It’s going to be a while before he’s completely healed, but he’s on his way.”

“I got a great doctor. She saved my life.”

“I heard,” I said.

“If she hadn’t come in and found me when I didn’t answer the door, I’d be dead.”

She smoothed the sheet over him and squeezed his fingers gently then looked at me. “I knew something wasn’t right as soon as I pulled into the driveway. It was starting to get dark, but there were no lights in his house. He didn’t answer the doorbell or his cell phone. I found a key in that fake rock beside the front porch and went inside.” She looked down at him fondly. “That’s not a very good place to hide a key.”

That fake rock had been my contribution, but Rick was too drugged to point that out. I certainly wasn’t going to.

“So you found him in the garage?” Yes, that was an established fact, but it was better than blurting out,
You’re dating him? You can do so much better!

Her dark eyes clouded. “He was unconscious and in bad shape. Someone had beaten him with a pipe wrench. I didn’t think he was going to make it.”

“I hit him back,” Rick said.

“I know you did. You were very brave.” She laid a hand on his shoulder and gazed at him lovingly.

Gag.

Very strange situation. I liked Rick’s new girlfriend, but I doubted we’d ever become bosom buddies because I didn’t like Rick.

“Well. I’m glad he’s safe and in good hands. I’d better get home and feed my cat. I hope they find whoever did this.”

“If Rick hurt the attacker as badly as he believes he did, the police should be able to find his DNA. There was a lot of blood.”

“I hurt him. Made him cry like a baby. I think it was Martian Man.”

Martian Man?
“He really is on a lot of drugs. Is this a flashback to a sci-fi movie?”

Robin grimaced. “That’s what he calls my former boyfriend, Martin. We spotted Martin in a restaurant the other night, and Rick was convinced he was following me.”

Not a jealous husband, but it could be a jealous ex-lover. Was that what Trent had almost slipped up and told me? “Was your breakup a bad one?”

She nodded. “Very bad.”

“Was he violent?”

She looked toward the door as though checking to see if anyone else was listening. “He’s a doctor too,” she said quietly. “He was a wonderful person until he started prescribing medication for himself. That’s why we broke up. He was becoming more and more aggressive. I got out before he reached the violent stage, but, yes, it’s possible. The police are looking at him as a person of interest.”

“I’ve been one of those,” I said. “It’s not as much fun as you might think.”

She laughed.

Yeah, under other circumstances, we might be friends.

“Take care of him. I’ll check back tomorrow.”

“Thanks for coming by, Lindsay. It was nice to finally meet you.”

“Love you, Lindsay!” Rick called. “Love you more, Robin. Will you marry me?”