Untitled (21 page)

   I guess that's why I forgot all about that package Brad said he sent to Gillian. Or at least I forgot that she was supposed to call and let me know when the package arrived.

   In fact, I wouldn't have remembered it at all if not for Kegan mentioning it the next Monday after class (Veggie Night, but don't worry, it wasn't nearly as healthy as it sounds, considering that the menu included homemade potato, sweet potato, and root vegetable chips; onion rings; and fried mushrooms). I'd just stepped into my office, and he was right behind me.

   "Seems weird, don't you think?" He scratched a hand through his short-cropped hair. "Gillian said she'd call, and she hasn't. I've been trying to think like a detective, and I think this makes her look guiltier than ever. I'll bet the package from Brad arrived, and there's something incriminating in it. That's why she doesn't want us to know."

   I was looking through the day's mail and only half listening, but that didn't dull my logic. "Or it means the package hasn't arrived. Or it has, and Gillian hasn't opened it. Or she did open it, and it has nothing to do with Brad getting killed, or—"

   Kegan laughed in an embarrassed sort of way. "I get the message. I'm jumping to conclusions, and that's one thing a detective should never do. No wonder you're so good at this, Annie. You're—"

   Something he said struck a chord—now, if I could only figure out what it was. My head came up, and I looked at him hard. "What was that you said?"

   Thinking, he wrinkled his nose, and since he didn't know what I was getting at any more than I did, he hesitated. "I said . . . I said I was jumping to conclusions. At least that's what I think I said. I said . . . I think I said that because you don't jump to conclusions, it proves you're a good detective and I'm just a rookie."

   It didn't click. "Not that. Before that."

   "I said . . ." He thought some more. "I think I said I got the message."

   "That's it!" I tossed down the pile of mail and grabbed my phone. It had a little red light on the side of it that flashed when there was a message waiting. It wasn't flashing. Did that stop me? I connected to my voice mail, put in my password, and heard a computer-generated voice tell me that I had one saved message.

   Yes, it was from Gillian. She said was calling just like she promised she would. The package had arrived, she told me. Since whatever was in the package might be important and might help solve Brad's murder, she was waiting for me to come back out to Middleburg before she opened it.

   According to that same computer voice, the message had arrived a couple hours before.

   When I was helping Jim in class.

   It didn't take a detective to figure out who had picked it up. At the time, Eve was the only one in the restaurant. She was helping arrange the flowers we'd ordered for a retirement party the next evening. Eve—the only one around there besides Jim, who knew my voice mail PIN.

   I think even before I clicked off the phone, I was already grumbling. That would explain why Kegan looked a little worried.

   "I'm not mad at you," I told him because he was so darned cute and he looked so darned concerned that he'd said something to offend me that I felt I owed him. I guess slamming the phone down on its recharger didn't exactly prove my point. "It's Eve. She's got to be the one who picked up the message. You know what this means, don't you?"

   Of course Kegan didn't. That didn't stop him from following me when I grabbed my purse. Jim was behind the bar, and I didn't stop to explain where I was going. I waved good-bye and pushed out the door.

   "She wants to help," I told Kegan. "Eve always wants to help."

   He scrambled to keep up. "And that's a bad thing because . . . ?"

   "Because Eve is Eve. Because Eve is a suspect. Because Eve hated Brad, and she shouldn't be one-on-one with the woman who loved him. Not without someone there to run interference."

   I unlocked my car, and Kegan and I jumped in. I knew he was still trying to work his way through the problem, because he was quiet for a couple minutes. It wasn't until we were on the Capital Beltway and heading west that he spoke. "So why would Eve take a chance?" he asked. "I mean, why make things more complicated? She must know it would just be better for you to handle this whole thing with Gillian. Why does Eve want to get involved?"

   I was changing lanes, and I waited until I was safely where I belonged before I answered. Then again, a sigh isn't much of an answer. "Maybe she's feeling left out," I said. "She's seen that we've been investigating together and, knowing Eve, she feels like she's missing out on the action. She wants to be a part of it. Maybe she's just trying to save me the time and money of driving all the way to Middleburg again. That would be just like her, going out of her way to save me a couple bucks when she can't afford it any more than I can. Maybe she thinks now that you and I are friends, I'm pushing her out of my life. Who knows!" I took my hands off the wheel just long enough for a gesture of utter frustration.

   "So you think that she's . . . ?"

   "Gone out to Gillian's on her own? I'm sure of it."

   "And you're worried?"

   "Do I look worried?"

   "Well, you are speeding."

   I was. I let up on the accelerator. "Eve knows better than to do anything stupid," I told Kegan and reminded myself.

   I actually might have gone right on believing that if when we arrived at Gillians's, the place wasn't teeming with police cars and if in the pulsing glow of their lights, I didn't see Eve being led away in handcuffs.

       nice enough place, but believe me when I say that I wished I was anywhere but. Kegan and I waited while they processed Eve (though they refused to tell us what they were processing her for) and thank goodness he was there with me. Sure, I'm graceful under pressure. In most situations, anyway. Yes, I'm logical, reasonable, and rational. But none of that applies when it comes to watching my best friend get arrested.

   I was a basket case, pure and simple, and Kegan—bless his little environmentally friendly heart—was a trooper. He brought me hot chocolate and apologized because it was in a foam cup. He called Jim because he said I was too upset to talk (he was right) and explained where we were and what was happening. He sat at my side, and he held my hand, and when a fresh-faced officer finally came out to the waiting room and told me I could go back and talk to Eve, Kegan came along, too. But only as far as the doorway.

   "I'd better wait here." Kegan peered into the hallway beyond the front desk. "Eve's probably upset. She needs a friend more than she needs me poking my nose where it doesn't belong."

   See what I mean? When it came to knowing what to say and when to say it, the kid was darned near perfect. He even gave me a pat on a back to buck me up.

   It worked. A little. My breath tight in my chest and my heart beating double time, I went toward where the officer pointed, rounded a corner, and saw immediately why we'd had to wait so long.

   No doubt, it took Tyler Cooper a while to drive out there.

   He wasn't any happier to see me than I was to see him, but that didn't stop me from closing in on Tyler and grabbing on to his arm with both hands. Any port in a storm, as they say, and at times like that, a familiar face is a familiar face, and a familiar face offers at least a little comfort.

   "They arrested her, Tyler." My words bubbled around the tears I'd refused to let fall when I was out in the waiting area. "They've got her locked up somewhere. What's happening? What did Eve do?"

   He gave me that enigmatic look of his, the one that was so annoying. It made me want to scream. "You don't know?"

   "Would I be asking if I did?"

   Tyler had been leaning against the wall, and when he straightened up, I let go of his arm. He worked a kink out of his neck. "Did you know Ms. Gleeson?" he asked.

   "Gillian?" I hadn't been thinking straight. I hadn't been thinking at all. For the first time, I realized I hadn't seen Gillian there at the station, and that if Eve had been accused of something—like breaking into Gillian's house or refusing to leave when Gillian asked or upsetting Gillian enough for her to call the police—I would have thought she'd be there filing her complaint. Then again, maybe people with money get to do that sort of thing from the comfort of their own homes.

   "I've met her," I told Tyler, because I knew until I told him what he wanted to know, he'd never tell me anything at all. "She was engaged to Brad Peterson, you know."

   He nodded. "And you care about this, why?"

   "Because Eve didn't kill Brad." Just in case Tyler really was that dumb, I pinned him with a look when I said this. "I thought if I talked to Gillian, I could find out more. You know, about Brad. About his life. About what he did and where he went and who he knew. About who—"

   "Who might have killed him?"

   I shouldn't have been embarrassed to admit it. Still, when Tyler put it so bluntly, it did sound like I was talking about a case that was completely out of my league. Then again, I had already solved two cases that had baffled Tyler and the rest of the Arlington force.

   I raised my chin. "That's right. I thought Gillian might know something about Brad's death."

   "And did she?"

   My shrug was as noncommital as my words. "She doesn't know about the other women. You know, the ones who Brad has wronged. Or at least she says she doesn't. And if she's lying . . ." I was hedging my bets again, guessing there was no way Tyler could be so dense, but I couldn't take any chances. Eve's freedom might be on the line; I had to be sure he understood.

   I looked Tyler in the eye. "If Gillan's the jealous type, she's definitely a suspect."

   "No, she's not."

   I wasn't willing to concede the point this soon, but I knew arguing it would get me nowhere. I regrouped, pulling in a deep breath while I tried an end run around Tyler's argument. "All right. Let's say Gillian's not a suspect. That doesn't change the fact that Brad sent a package to her home. A mysterious package."

   "Mysterious, huh?"

   Was that a gleam of interest I saw in Tyler's cold, blue eyes? It was enough to make me think the man was almost human.

   Encouraged by the thought, I went right on. "Yes, mysterious. Because he sent it to Gillian's house, but he addressed it to himself. And he told her not to open it until he was around. So you see, the package might be important."

   "It's not."

   Do I need to point out that by this time, I was getting a little frustrated? My words were clipped by my gritted teeth. "But we don't know that. Not for sure. Since Brad couldn't open the package—he's dead, remember—I asked Gillian to call me when it was delivered. And—"

   "Did she?"

   "Call me? Yes, just this evening. Which is why I came out to see her, only when I got there—"

   "Eve was already there."

   I threw my hands in the air. "Well, if you already know everything, why are you bothering to talk to me at all?"

   "You're the one who started the talking."

   "And you're the one who hasn't told me one, blessed thing. What's happening, Tyler? What did Eve do? Because you know as well as I do that she doesn't have a nasty bone in her body. If Gillian says—"

   "She doesn't."

   "Then if Gillian thinks—"

   "She doesn't do that, either."

   This time I didn't even try to contain my screech. Though I did make sure I kept it down so the cops out front didn't know I was being driven to distraction by the most annoying man ever to carry a badge. "What are you talking about?" I demanded of Tyler. "What's going on? Tell me now, Tyler, or I can't be responsible for what I might do to you. What did Eve do?"

   I don't think it was my threat that got him to talk. In fact, for a fraction of a second, I actually thought Tyler was going to laugh. His expression faded as quickly as it came, and the next thing I knew, his eyes flashed, and his jaw was so tight, I swear I could hear the bones grinding against each other.

   "What did Eve do? Well, you're going to have to ask her that. I'll tell you what she was arrested for. The murder of Gillian Gleeson."

       Tyler walked away. I was frozen to the spot, my insides icy and shivering as much as if I was out in a snowstorm without a coat. I guess it was when I wrapped my arms around myself to keep warm that I realized where I really was. And what I had to do.

   I swiped the tears off my cheeks, pulled back my shoulders, and opened the door to the room where Eve was waiting.

   The second I saw that she was crying, I started all over again, too.

   "Oh, Annie!" She fell into my arms, which isn't easy, since she's so much taller than me. With her hanging on, I back-stepped across the room over to a table and chairs. I pressed her down into one of the chairs and took the one next to it. Just in time, too. From the way they were shaking, I knew my legs weren't going to hold me much longer.

   "What happened, Eve?" We were holding hands, but I couldn't tell if she was clinging to me or I was clinging to her. I guess it didn't matter. "Tyler told me . . ." I choked on the words. "He said . . ."

   "That I killed Gillian." Eve's voice was breathless. Her skin was ashen. Now that she was sitting opposite me, I noticed that there was a maroon-colored smudge across the front of her pink mohair sweater. I knew instinctively what it was, and instinctively I pulled my hands away.

   Eve's eyes welled with fresh tears. "You think I did it, too. You think—"

   "No. Really." I felt as guilty as a best friend can who's just let a best friend down but, try as I might (and believe me when I say I tried), I couldn't pull my gaze away from the macabre stain. "It's just that—"