Admit One (37 page)

“Call me crazy,” Will said “but unless she knew about your
arrangement,
I’m guessing that Abernathy’s wife might not agree with that assessment.”

Victoria rolled her eyes. “If she had any imagination, she’d be thanking me for jump-starting her husband’s libido again. Why women think that popping out babies, getting no sleep and smelling like dirty diapers and spit-up all day will do anything but kill their sex lives is utterly beyond me.”

Will sat back. The tinge of sympathy he’d felt for Torie in the face of her seemingly genuine distress had been shoved behind his usual distaste.
This
was the man-eating piranha he knew and loathed. And as Will studied her, he realized something that had never occurred to him before.

Victoria was a hell of a lot like his mother.

True, his mom had popped out four kids, but she’d never seemed particularly happy about it. And times had been different then. Having kids was sort of expected – especially when your husband’s name had a long and important – in some minds, anyway – lineage.

But she’d seen motherhood as duty, not as joy. And when duty got to be too much, she’d walked away without a backward glance.

At least Torie and Harlan hadn’t had any offspring for her to leave behind in their divorce.

“Have I shocked you?” Victoria asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nope,” Will summed up. And while interesting, this foray into the warped world of Victoria Hawbaker’s morality wasn’t really telling him anything he needed to know.

“How did you meet Tobias Abernathy?”

“At an auction, almost four years ago. We were both bidding on the same piece. He outbid me. He came to apologize for snatching it away from me, and I told him that I was sure he could find a way to make it up to me. He did. We fucked like rabbits all night.”

Will tamped down his disgust, because he was sure that was the reaction Torie wanted. Four years ago, Toby would have been an infant, and Victoria was still married to his brother. From the sounds of it, she and Abernathy were perfect for each other. It was almost a shame the man was dead.

Presumably.

“What happened the night of the fire?”

Torie’s expression lost a little bit of its sass. “Tobias called me. I was supposed to have met him at the auction, but I had a little emergency come up with one of my design clients and wasn’t able to get away. He decided to come back early, said there was something he had to deal with in Savannah. He didn’t say what. But then when I was just about to walk out the door to go meet him, I got a text. He said…” she drew a shaky breath. “He said that
you’d
been by the store, asking his wife questions. I’d told him about your visit to my store, and he was convinced that you were up to something. That you knew about us. He was afraid his wife was going to find out and that she would take him to the cleaners in the divorce. He told me not to come.”

“But you went anyway.”

She nodded. “I went anyway. Because I wasn’t going to let your meddling ruin the best relationship I’ve ever had. When I got there…” she studied her clasped hands. “The building was on fire. I looked for Tobias in the crowd, thinking he must have… dropped his cigarette or something – he only smoked after sex and when he was stressed about something – and accidentally started the fire. But I couldn’t find him. I tried his cell phone but…”a tear slid down her cheek. “By the time I figured out that he must still be inside, it was too late. He was gone.”

She looked up at him, her eyes fierce with pain. “You did it. You caused it. You and your stupid, nosy questions. You
killed
him.”

Will didn’t think that explaining that he’d only been doing his job would make a difference at the moment. And he realized why Victoria had agreed to talk to him. Not because she thought he could help her, or because she wished to confess to something, but because she wanted to push his guilt button. The fact that she knew him well enough to understand that he did feel a little guilty every time he thought of Camellia only served to piss him off.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

She laughed, the sound brittle as breaking glass. “Like you care.”

“I care that a man is dead. I care that his wife has lost a husband – such as he was. That his son lost a father. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, and all that. But I didn’t kill him, Victoria. And whether it was an accident or something more is yet to be determined.”

“Something more.” She looked at him sharply. “Like what?”

Will shrugged. They wouldn’t know that until the medical examiner gave them a cause of death. “It wouldn’t be the first time a man who knew he was about to get caught took the easy way out.”

“You think he killed himself?” She scoffed. “He wasn’t that upset.”

Maybe not about the possibility of his affair being exposed, but there was still the question of why he’d come back to the store that night after talking to Cam. What was the pressing issue he’d had to deal with? If he hadn’t wanted to see Torie that night, to bring a halt to things in person, he could have just stayed and finished up at the auction, dealt with her when he came home the next day.

That he hadn’t suggested there was another reason he’d returned.

If Abernathy had indeed been involved in selling stolen antiquities, perhaps he’d wanted to destroy any records or evidence in the store. Maybe the fire wasn’t an accident, but his death was, as he could have gotten trapped somehow after starting the blaze. Amateur arsonists sometimes did.

Or maybe neither had been accidents.

Because he wasn’t sure that Torie had that information – and was positive she wouldn’t tell him, even if she did, because it would potentially incriminate her also – Will decided to let that line of questioning go. The SCPD would be asking her soon anyway, and Will didn’t want to risk her clamming up before he got everything he was after.

“How’d you know about Allie’s miscarriage?”

Her head came up. “Miscarriage, was it? Are you sure it wasn’t an abortion? Wouldn’t do for Miss Innocence to bear an out-of-wedlock baby, after all.”

Will’s jaw clenched, but he again let the insult slide. Torie had always been jealous of Allie. Probably because Allie wasn’t an amoral bitch.

“How?” he repeated.

Victoria sighed, like she found the topic utterly boring. “I had my mail forwarded after I moved out. One of her medical bills got mixed up with mine.”

Will considered. That was plausible. “I just have one more question.”

She made a motion for him to continue.

He folded his arms on the table. “Where’d you get the stolen credit card that you used to send the flowers?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ALLIE
took a log of cookie dough from the Dust Jacket’s freezer and, per Josie’s instructions, moved it to the refrigerator so that it could thaw overnight. She was just about to shut the door when a plastic tub caught her eye.

Whipped Cream
it said in Josie’s neat printing.

A heat rash seemed to break out over Allie’s entire body all at once despite the refrigerated air.  If it was true that pictures of your life flashed before your eyes when you were about to die, Allie hoped that when her time came her personal show reel got stuck on the memories of this past weekend.

She’d never had a more erotically charged experience in her life.

Allie eyed the tub, tapping her fingers on the door handle. There was no reason she couldn’t have
another
erotically charged evening, now was there? Mason had made it perfectly clear that spending the night with him was pretty much a standing invitation. She’d been busy the past few nights with other obligations, having to content herself with seeing Mason sporadically during the day, generally when he took a break from helping Tucker gut his guest bathroom in order to seek out caffeine, sweets and – on one memorable occasion – a few very interesting minutes in the storeroom.

Allie closed her eyes, letting the cool air from the fridge bathe her flushed face. Five minutes with Mason in a closet was more satisfying than all of the hours she’d spent with any of her previous boyfriends put together.

She reached for the whipped cream.

“Hey Allie.”

Startled, Allie dropped the tub as she whirled around, hand flying up to her throat.

“Sorry,” Alan said, his expression apologetic as he stood in the open back door of the Dust Jacket’s kitchen. “I saw Rainey as she was leaving and she said that you were back here, getting ready to close up. I thought I might catch you before you left.”

“Alan.” Another flush crept into her cheeks, this time from embarrassment. Which was silly, because he couldn’t know what she’d been thinking. “Hi. You startled me.”

“I would have knocked,” he said “but…” He gestured to the open door.

“I couldn’t bear to close it after I swept the kitchen,” she admitted. “The air is wonderful.”

“It’s a lovely evening,” he agreed. “Um, you dropped something.”

He stepped forward, bending down to pick up the fallen whipped cream at the same time that Allie did.

“Whoops,” he said when they bumped into each other. They both straightened, and his smile when he looked down at her was charming. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m sure it’s my fault,” Allie said, slightly uncomfortable with how close they were standing. Unobtrusively, she hoped, she took a small step back. “I’m a klutz.”

“Not that I’ve noticed. Here you go.”

Allie accepted the plastic tub, thinking that he was either flattering her or that he must not have been paying much attention. “Um, thank you.”

Because she felt awkward hanging onto it while talking to Alan, knowing what she intended to do with it, Allie stored it back in the fridge. She could always come back for it later.

“Don’t let me stop you from doing whatever you need to do to close up.”

And apparently, Allie realized, Alan had every intention of hanging around while she did so. “I’m all finished, actually.”

Allie took her keychain from her purse. Maybe she could find a discreet way to get rid of him without saying:
Could you leave now? Because I’m on my way to shag Mason, and you’re sort of killing the mood.

Alan stepped out onto the porch, standing by while Allie set the alarm.

“You changed all your locks, I’m assuming?”

After her keys were stolen, he meant. “Yes. Although, if I understand Will correctly, the person you think is responsible for stealing my car” not to mention giving her a concussion and locking her inside the mausoleum “is… no longer a problem.”

“And good riddance,” Alan said, his voice cold. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she turned the deadbolt. “Men who assault women are pretty low on my list of people for whom I feel compassion. Especially when the woman they assault is someone I happen to care about.”

Allie returned her attention to the door, pulling the key from the lock and tucking the ring inside her purse. Her heartbeat sped up a little. She’d suspected that Alan was trying to get something going, but she’d hoped that either she was mistaken or that he’d give up once he realized that she was seeing Mason.  It looked like she was right on the first count and wrong on the second.

“We never found your keys,” Alan added, sounding apologetic. “So even though the suspect is dead and you’ve taken the precaution of changing your locks, just continue to be cautious. Most likely they got tossed, but you never know what people will do. Especially if they’re addicts, or just your run-of-the-mill stupid criminal. You can’t expect them to employ logic before they act.”

“Thanks,” she said, because she knew that he was simply trying to look out for her.

“I know you’ve heard it all from Will,” he said, hopping on her train of thought. “And I know you’re not stupid. But I just wanted to let you know that I was… thinking about you.”

Allie took a deep breath. Alan was a very nice man, and he was certainly attractive, and under other circumstances she might have been flattered by his attention.

“Alan,” she began.

“Wait.” He held up his hands. “I get the feeling a
you’re a nice guy, but
speech is eminent, so let me just spare you the breath and my ego the crushing blow. I know you’re involved with someone.” His lips thinned, like he was forcibly holding back whatever words wanted to leak out regarding Mason. “But I’m not going to lie. I hope that if it doesn’t work out, you’ll give me a call. And I hope,” he moved in a little closer, laid his palm flat against the wall beside her head “that this will give you something to think about in the meantime.”

Allie saw it coming of course, but didn’t react quickly enough to avoid it entirely. Alan’s lips pressed against hers, firm but soft, his breath hot and sweet, and she acknowledged that he knew what he was doing. It was, if she were being objective, probably a perfect first kiss. Had the situation been different she might have been left wanting more.

But the situation wasn’t different, and what she wanted more of was Mason.

Placing her palm against Alan’s chest, she pushed him back. He went willingly enough, though there was a hint of disappointment in his eyes when he lifted his head.