Murder on the First Day of Christmas (Chloe Carstairs Mysteries) (18 page)

    
“If it’s space you want, you got it,” I had told him. “Not since the Louisiana Purchase has so much space been awarded so cheaply.”

    
I had told him, “Remember your refusal to go out on our first Valentine’s Day together, citing fear of ‘all those lovers’ the way one would say ‘all those lepers?’ Well, in one year eight months, we haven’t come a long way, baby.”

    
I had told him, “At first I thought maybe you did know best, you being the older more experienced one. But now I see that with experience comes baggage, and you, my dear, have an entire Louis Vuitton matched set from hatbox to steamer trunk.” (The fact that I had used my mother’s material was proof of my emotional distress.)

    Finally I had told him, “Now I’m doing the thinking for both of us, and I’ll disseminate this information to you on a need-to-know basis. Right now, all you need to know is that when the phone rings, it won’t be me.”

    
Ok, we all know I didn't say that to him.

    
To him I had said, “Fine! Let’s see other people!”

    
To which he had replied (And this will echo in my mind forever), “Okey-dokey.”

    
The good stuff I ranted to my steering wheel as I completed an eight-point, tire squealing turn out of his driveway after our last big blow up, one eye in the rearview mirror hoping he was following. The good stuff, I had told myself, I would say to him after we got back together for the sole purpose of picking the fight all over again, so that I could say the good stuff. Then I would step over his limp, recrimination-ridden body on my way out the door - for good!

    
But what was this?

    
Was fate smiling on me at last? Because here he was in my doorway, discovering me dripping daintily in nothing but a towel. Here at last I had the upper hand, and it was clutching that towel loosely, letting it edge eeeever so slightly downward.

    
Jacob’s surprise showed on his face as he found it impossible to meet my eyes. “Just thought I’d drop by. Say hi. See what you were up to.”

    
Really cute, this guy. Did I mention he plays soccer? I’m a sucker for soccer players.

    
He even sports a beard. I had never seen myself dating a guy with a beard and had even cancelled our first date when a friend of mine came into town, telling her breezily, “Oh, it wasn’t a real date, he has a beard.”

    
Now, I recognized that it added to his outdoorsy granola-boy persona. Plus, the beard had proven to be a great exfoliator. Truly. My skin has never looked better.

    
But…

    
One must be strong.

    
“I’m getting ready to go out.” I cast my eyes downward. “I don’t have a sec to talk. I’m running late as it is.”

    
Jacob studied my face for a second, a pained expression filling his own. “Some other time then?”

    
“Sure.” I held onto breezy and noncommittal. “I’ll call you.” Ha! Take that!

    
He turned, and I closed the door before I could call him back.

    
Life was good. I was good. Things were looking up.

    
Smiling, I returned to the bathroom, wiped condensation from the mirror and screamed. Mascara, left over from earlier that day, had run down my face in rivulets, forming black half moons under my eyes and caking in the corners.

    
Like a crazy woman my gaze shot from the shower (where I pictured myself using my fists on my face like squeegees) to the door (where I’d been so casual, so self-assured) to the phone (which was now ringing).

    
It was Jacob on his cell phone. “May I speak to Alice?”

    
Bastard. Already calling another woman.

    
“Alice doesn’t live here,” I said through clenched teeth.

    
“Are you sure? I was just up there, and I could’ve sworn I saw Alice Cooper in a towel.”

    
“We are soooo over,” I said with finality.

    
“Are you sure that’s such a good idea? Not everybody’s going to warm up to your new Goth look like I did. I think we should have dinner next week to discuss it.”

    
For a moment, my hostility hummed along the connection between us. “Fine,” I shot back. What choice did I have? I wasn’t willing to going down – not this way.

    
“Fine.” I heard the smile in his voice. “I’ll call you.”

CHAPTER 20

    
Two hours and two Coronas later, I felt like my old self again, mascara firmly in place, hair looking great (if a little under-conditioned) sitting across the booth from Mr. Six-Feet-of-Sex-Appeal, Jack Lassiter. Life can turn on a dime, can’t it?

    
Dana had chosen the restaurant - a new Thai place where the drinks were strong and the lighting flattering.  She had one eye on Jack (who looked particularly fetching in black pants and a light gray V-neck sweater) and one eye on the door, where her fiancé was supposed to appear at any moment.

    
Dana had revealed to me on the way over that she had a crush on Lassiter, though she would never act on it. Unless she got the chance. It was just talk, though, because Dana was way too excited about becoming Mrs. Daniel Carlson to stray off course now.

    
We chatted about inconsequential stuff until Dan arrived - late as usual, no excuses. We then ate dinner, chatted more (mostly about Dana and Dan’s upcoming wedding, still no word on the dress), drank more and then headed to UltraViolet in Five Points. Good.

    
I had my own car, and Jack had his. Dana would ride over with Dan, and if she stuck to her usual MO, she and Dan would turn the five-minute trip into a thirty-minute ride either by fighting or making out. Just enough time for Lassiter and me to talk.

    
As usual the front room of the bar was crowded and smoky with a small band and dancing. Jack and I headed for the back where it was more quiet.

    
I didn’t spot my mother immediately. She had her back turned. But the fact that she wiped  her chair seat off with a linen handkerchief before perching on the edge of it made her identity unmistakable.

    
Hiding my irritation, I smiled and told Jack that if he bought the first round, I’d get the second. He headed off to the bar. I made a beeline for Mom.

    
“If it isn’t Mata Hari in sensible shoes,” I hissed, taking the seat next to her.

    
“Chloe! Hello, darling. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

    
“Spare me. You didn’t think I could handle this alone?”

    
“Darling, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here with Bunny Beaumont, going over some fundraiser stuff. She’s at the bar.” My mother craned her neck to look for Bunny. “My, it’s crowded in here.” Innocent green eyes turned back to me.

    
I had to laugh. Mom must’ve been desperate to endure an evening in a smoky bar with Bunny Beaumont.

    
“Nice trench coat,” she said. “I see you and Banana Republic have patched up your differences.”

    
“I’m working within the system.” I smoothed my new short trench over a skirt that was roughly the same length, a fact that wasn’t lost on my mother.

    
I was about to reassure Mom when a man tapped her on the shoulder. At a glance, tall, mid-forties, amazing facial tan, faded jeans and a Stetson.

    
“Baby, I don’t want long walks on the beach, I don’t want a deep soul-searching talks…” he began.

    
“I don’t want to dance,” Mom interrupted.

    
“Fair enough. Probably shouldn’t be dancing anyway.” To our surprise, he sank into a chair, leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Just had my appendix out, and the doctor said I should take it easy for a few days. Guess that includes dancing. Name’s Rory.”

    
“Rory, I don’t mean to be rude, but we’re talking - in private.” Mom used a tone and gave him a look that I remembered well from my childhood.

    
“Don’t mind me.” He completely misread her. “I’m just enjoying the view. Anyone ever tell you you’re the prettiest girl this side of the table.” He laughed, willing to hit on us both equally. What a guy.

    
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave us alone.” Mom smiled sweetly. “We’re talking.”

    
“Whatever you say, Sassy.” Rory turned his attentions toward me. “I like me a sassy woman. Course I like all kinds of women, but I prefer a little spirit, something to challenge me. Can’t stand a clingy woman, always needing a man around.”

    
“Believe me,” I assured him, “we don’t need a man around.”

    
Rory beamed. “Another sassy one. Must be my lucky night.”

    
“Rory…” Amanda managed to look down her nose at him.

    
He slid his chair back a foot from the table and made a big show of turning his back on us. “There,” he threw over his shoulder, eyes twinkling. “I’ll leave you girls alone, but I’ll be right here when you need me.”

    
Mom and I exchanged looks.

    
Jack had finally reached the front of the line at the bar, so I got to the point. “I don’t need a chaperone.”

    
“You said Dana was going to be with you.”

    
“She and Dan are probably parking their car.”

    
“It’s just that you’re a little vulnerable right now,” Mom whispered, glancing toward Rory. “You’ve got a job to do, so don’t get distracted.”

    
“Hence the crowded place, the separate cars and Dana,” I pointed out.

    
“I’m just here as back up.”

    
“I’m fine. Anyway, I don’t sleep with guys on the first date.”

    
“This isn’t a date.”

    
“Then, I guess that rule doesn’t apply.”

    
“Not funny, Chloe Elizabeth.”

    
“Just kidding. Look, keep a low profile, and I’ll fill you in tomorrow. Trust me.”

    
She nodded, and I got up as Jack paid for our drinks. Bunny Beaumont, decked out in hot pink capris and a strapless white top, was talking to someone at the bar and would be for a while.

    
“She’s all yours.” I told Rory, gesturing to Mom.

    
His chair slid back to the table, and he spun around, giving my mother his full attention. “So, Sassy, what is it you look for in a man?”

    “An appendix,” Mom answered.

CHAPTER 21

    
Once Jack and I were seated, knees almost touching on overstuffed couches in the back of the bar, he preempted my carefully crafted information-extraction techniques, (plying him with more beer, delicately worded questions and maybe a little look-see at what a well-placed bra could do for a girl) by saying, “Word on the street is that you and your mom are investigating Saul and Oscar’s deaths.”

    
“Investigating?”

    
“Yeah. So imagine my surprise when I heard you wanted to talk to me. Did your mom send you to interrogate me?” His green eyes were mocking.

    
“My mom?”

    
“Is there an echo in here?”

    
“She’s not my boss.” I smiled, and he smiled back. Delish. “But since you’re on to me.” I forced myself not to picture that little scenario. “Mind if I complete my assignment?”

    
Jack leaned in, his blond hair slipping over his forehead. “Fire away.”

    
I cleared my throat, all business. “Are the police convinced that Saul’s death was connected to Oscar’s?”

    
“That’s a safe assumption.”

    
“Any sign of Saul’s computer discs?”

    
“None.”

    
“Any indication that Oscar had them?”

     “None.”

     “Because the way I hear it, Saul gathered information on people and then hold it over them, and you’re one of those people.” That threw him off guard.

    
“Your knees have crew cuts.” He pointed to where I’d been razor careless.

    
I fixed him with a business-like stare as I wondered how unlucky I could be with guys and grooming.

    
He shot me a mocking smile. “I didn’t know Saul that well. He was cultivating me as a source, an ‘in’ at the DA’s office with Oscar now in private practice, but I don’t chase publicity the way Oscar did.”