Mug Shot (14 page)

The next couple of hours absolutely crawled by, and I was considering breaking Pete out of jail myself when Gertie finally called. Pete was ready to be picked up at the station, and she informed me that she was already on her way and didn't want to waste her time picking me up. That was Gertie. She had a single-minded focus when she was adamant about something, and everyone else could go to hell. I was fine with not having to visit the police station again.

I had a few minutes to burn before heading to Pete's house, so I went into the kitchen and made him his favorite comfort food: a waffle taco. It seemed gross, but it was something Pete and I had developed when we worked at Java Jive as college students. His dad would let us play around in the kitchen when business was slow, and we were always coming up with weird combinations of food. Thinking about how much simpler things were when we were teenagers, I couldn't help it that my tears started flowing. I got a couple of strange looks from my cooks Wayne and Brandon, but I didn't explain—I just boxed up the concoction and fled out the door.

I let myself in Pete's house using the key he'd given me when I had to stay with him while my living room was being cleaned and redone. Cecilia had had a hissy fit over it, and their relationship had never been the same. I wished he had broken up with her back then so he wouldn't be in this mess now.

The door opened, and a very weary-looking Pete walked in, followed closely by a very relieved-looking Gertie. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, and we both rushed to hug each other. We held each other so tightly, it was a little uncomfortable, but after all that had happened, I never wanted to let him go ever again. However, if I wanted him to stay free, I had some work to do.

“Jules,” he said, his voice cracking. “You didn't have to sign away your car for me…but thank you. I promise not to jump bail.”

“I know you won't. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat. Anything to get you out of that place.”

We still hadn't let go of each other. Gertie cleared her throat and said, “Should I skedaddle so you two can be alone?”

Laughing, we broke apart, but Pete kept one arm around my shoulders as he took her hand. “No, Gert. I've just really missed my two best girls.”

She beamed up at him, and tears started escaping from my eyes yet again. She nodded to me and said, “You need to cool it with the waterworks, missy. You're like a leaky faucet lately.”

I wiped my eyes and changed the subject. “Well, jailbird, what's the first thing you want to do now that you've broken out of the joint?”

Pete sniffed the air and zeroed in on the takeout box on his living room table. “I want to find out if that's a waffle taco in there or if I'm dreaming.”

I shrugged. “Look and see.”

He went over and sank down on his couch, opening the box like a little kid at Christmas. Grinning, he said, “Jail food is horrible. You don't mind if I ignore you for a while and have a moment alone with this thing, do you? I'm starving.”

While Pete inhaled his waffle taco, I pulled Gertie aside. “I take it you want to spend some time with Pete, so I'm going to go. I have things to do, anyway.”

Gertie saw right through me. “Bullshit, you've got ‘things to do.' You're going to be snooping around, trying to find the real murderer, like last time. I tell you, Juliet, you'll get yourself killed.”

“I can take care of myself. Wouldn't it be better to find the real killer than for Pete to have to go back to jail?” I reasoned.

“Yes, but can't you leave it to the damn cops? Your Ryder seems to know what he's doing. Why the hell can't he figure it out?”

I sighed. “It's not his case. They have to use professional courtesy and crap like that. Besides, he's not even a homicide detective. He can't just go in and take over.”

His mouth full of food, Pete piped up, “Hey, are you two over there talking about me?”

Wrinkling my nose, I said, “Yes, we're talking about how you need a bath, stinky.”

“True that. After I get done here, I'm hitting the shower and then going to bed. I haven't slept in days.”

I walked over and sat next to him on the couch. “You get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” he said, putting down his food to give me another hug. “Thanks, Jules. For everything.”

“You know you don't have to thank me.”

I left Pete's house with my spirits lifted. Now that I didn't have to worry about what was happening to him in jail, I could concentrate more fully on finding the real killer and work on getting Stan to 'fess up to the cops about his little problem. I called Stan on the way back over to Java Jive and asked him to meet me there. He had a late meeting but agreed to drop by when he was finished.

The coffeehouse was empty except for three students having a study session at a table in the corner. I let all of my employees go home except for Tiffany and Shane, but even they didn't have enough work to fill their time. I couldn't figure out why we were so horribly slow.

When Stan finally got there, I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him down the hall. “Come to the office with me, where we can talk.” After ushering him into the office, I closed the door behind us.

He smiled and gave me a quick, chaste kiss on the lips. “You're all business tonight.”

“I'm sorry, Stan. I've got a lot on my mind. Pete's in big trouble. I can't let him go to jail for the rest of his life for a crime he didn't commit.”

“Juliet, he's been arrested and charged with murder. The police obviously think he did it.”

“People are innocent until proven guilty, last I checked.”

“I know. You're so sweet. Always looking for the good in people,” he said as he stroked my cheek. I so did
not
look for the good in people. I was actually pretty cynical for someone of the tender age of thirty.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Who gets Cecilia's money now that she's dead? I take it it's not you.”

Stan smiled ruefully. “Right, it's not me. Cecilia left everything to Abigail, so

I heard.”

Just as I thought. “And did your grandmother leave you guys any money, or just her home and businesses?”

“Grandmother was a ‘you can't take it with you' kind of woman. There was very little money to be passed around. Inconsequential. Why?”

“There's a rumor going around that Kent's business is failing.”

He sighed. “I know. He tried to get me to buy in. After I looked at his financials, I wouldn't touch that business with a ten-foot pole. I've already got one failing business to deal with.”

“Do you know if he asked Abigail for a loan?”

“It's not likely. They've been living apart for a few months now, and only since her fall is he back in the picture. Plus, Abigail spends money like Grandmother did. Her trust fund is dwindling, so she's probably in no position to help him anyway.”

That wasn't a point in either Kent's or Abigail's favor. Hell, they could have been in on it together. There was no way Cecilia had spent down her trust fund—she was kind of cheap, for a rich person. Plus, she had a high-paying job, so she probably didn't need to dip into it too often. Abigail likely got a windfall from Cecilia, and that kind of money was always a good motive for murder. I wasn't about to accuse Stan's sister of murder, but I didn't mind casting a little doubt on Kent.

“Well, I guess it's a good thing Abigail was Cecilia's heir, then. Even with Kent's business in trouble, now she'll have enough to take care of their kids. If he ends up losing the business, it won't crush them. As terrible as her death was, at least Cecilia got to help out her sister and brother-in-law. I guess she'd be happy about that.”

Stan wrinkled his brow. “Cecilia? Happy to help out Kent? I don't think so.”

Now we were getting somewhere. “What, did they not get along?”

“They had a very thinly veiled hatred for each other. I think the only family member she liked less than me was Kent.”

“Wow. That's really saying something,” I joked, slapping him playfully on the arm.

He chuckled. “I know, right? She made a habit out of telling him he wasn't good enough for our sister. One time, he came at her, and I had to hold him back.”

“So Kent is violent, then?”

Stan's eyes became strained and his posture stiffened. “I hadn't thought about it that way…”

If I could get him to entertain the possibility that Kent might have murdered Cecilia, with any luck Stan would go to the police and cause a fuss until someone listened. Then, the police would have to look into Kent, and maybe that would prompt them to second-guess their original theory about Pete. I had already voiced my opinion to Cromwell, and he wasn't going to accept any more I had to say. However, if this were to come from Stan, Cromwell might be more inclined to consider it. I was proud of myself for working smarter than I had the last time I investigated a murder.

“Maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea for you to go have a conversation with Cromwell about Kent.”

“Right…” he said, seeming lost in thought.

“And while you're there, you can tell someone about the meth lab.”

He frowned. “Juliet, I…”

“You could get into some serious trouble for keeping it from the police.”

“I understand that, but…truthfully, I'm scared.”

I gave him a hug. “I know. But wouldn't you rather let the police catch them and lock them up? Then you could quit looking over your shoulder.”

“I would love to quit looking over my shoulder.”

“Then go tell the police the truth.”

Smiling, he said, “You don't give up easily, do you?”

“Nope.”

He nodded. “Okay, you talked me into it. But I'm taking my lawyer with me.”

“That's probably a good idea. You've had a rough week, haven't you?” And I was about to make it worse. “In the spirit of telling the truth…I feel like I need to tell you something.”

“You can tell me anything.”

“Well, you're not going to like it.” I rubbed my forehead. “Stan, I'm not trying to be mean here. I promise to stand by you through this whole ordeal. But not as your girlfriend. I don't think it's fair for me to lead you on.”

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, puzzled.

“Yes, but not because I don't like hanging out with you. I just…There's no spark between us. We have nothing in common. And you've got to admit our romance is kind of forced.”

“It's not that bad.”

“Do you love me?” I asked.

He hesitated. “No…”

“Well, there you go. You don't need me for a girlfriend, Stan. You can have practically any woman you want. What you need is me as your friend.”

“What's the point of that?”

Laughing, I replied, “You don't have any friends who are girls, do you?”

“Not really.”

“So do you want to be friends or not?”

“I suppose—”

There was a knock at the door, and when I answered it, Ryder was standing on the other side.

“Ryder. Hi,” I said, surprised he'd dropped in.

“I need to talk to you,” he replied, glancing behind me to glare at Stan.

Stan obviously took the hint, because he said, “Good night, Juliet. I'll let you know how my meeting goes.” He rather awkwardly kissed me on the cheek on his way out.

Ryder came in and shut the door behind him.

“Um…why did you come down here?” I asked.

“For this.”

He closed the gap between us in two strides, encircling my waist with one hand and threading the other through my hair. He pulled me close, and his mouth was instantly on mine, kissing me with more passion than I'd ever felt out of him. That was saying a lot, because a normal kiss from him was practically heart-stopping. I guessed this meant he'd changed his mind about us trying to date again. I inadvertently let out a little moan as his hands started roaming over my body.

Breaking our kiss, he pulled back and looked me in the eye. “Did Stan ever make you feel like that?”

I frowned. That was kind of a dick-ish thing to say, even though he wasn't wrong in his assumption. “I don't think that's any of your business.”

His mouth curved into a smile. “I'll take that as a no.” He backed me up to the wall and pressed his body against mine.

“What makes you think you can just come in here and stick your tongue down my throat?” I asked, knowing if he kissed me again I wouldn't have another coherent thought for a while.

“The way you look at me. You're always undressing me with your eyes. It's like I'm a piece of meat to you.”

“Oh, whatever. Don't flatter yourself.” Hell yeah, I always mentally undressed him when I looked at him. But I was appalled to find out he knew it.

He had moved his attention onto my neck and began nuzzling me as he said cockily, “Don't try to deny it, Juliet. You want me.”

Shivers shot through me as he kissed my neck, his five o'clock shadow scratching my skin. I was starting to get light-headed. “Be that as it may, I don't know if I can get past how much of an ass you are sometimes.”

He looked down at me, smirking. “I'm willing to overlook the fact that you're a pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

He planted another kiss on me that made me weak in the knees. Luckily, he had me pinned against the wall. I kissed him back with the force of the two months of pent-up desire I'd harbored for him. When his hands snaked their way up my shirt, I came back to reality and put my hands on his chest, pushing him away.

“Down, boy. I know where this is going.”

“You mean to the couch?” he asked, nodding to the tiny sofa next to us.