Between a Book and a Hard Place (16 page)

When Poppy motioned me to continue, I added, “And apparently, back when his mother was up for membership in the Confederate Daughters of Missouri, there were some questions raised about her family's part in the war.”

“Boone does go on and on about his namesake, Major Boone, dying gloriously in the last battle of Shadow Bend,” Poppy mused.

“I don't remember hearing anything about Mrs. St. Onge having trouble being inducted into the CDM.” I frowned. “Do you?”

“Not a peep.” Poppy shook her head. “But then again, my family was on the other side in the war, so we aren't involved in the CDM.”

“After all those years, what could have surfaced to cause a problem?”

“You know those history buffs.” Poppy rolled her eyes. “They're always finding some new letter or diary that changes things.”

“Always?” I teased. Poppy's tendency to exaggerate was legendary.

“Often enough to be annoying,” she countered. “Anyway, I can't see Boone sneaking into a grubby basement and conking Jett on the head.”

“Of course not. As I said, I don't suspect him.” I chuckled at the image of a less-than-perfectly-neat-and-tidy Boone. The man hated it when the wind blew his hair out of place. Getting his hands filthy or having a smudge on his shirt would give him hives. “Boone does equate getting dirty with the eighth deadly sin.”

“It just occurred to me.” Poppy wrinkled her brow. “Noah and Boone were the ones who brought Jett to town. Surely Boone must know what your stepfather was researching and wouldn't have endorsed him if he was worried about keeping something regarding the major a secret.”

“Excellent point.” I mulled over what Poppy had said, then grimaced. “Unless Jett either wasn't completely truthful or stumbled onto something like one of those letters or diaries you mentioned.”

Before Poppy could comment, there was a commotion by the pool table. We both watched as the woman screamed something at the guy she was playing against, grabbed her cue stick, and brought it down on the man's forearm.

Poppy flew from her seat, and I watched as she expertly disarmed the combatant. When the woman tried to smash Poppy over the head with a beer bottle, Poppy grabbed her wrist and did some sort of judo kick. Her victim fell to her knees, clutching her stomach and threatening a lawsuit. Poppy jerked the woman to her feet and ushered her out the door.

As Poppy slammed the door, she said, “Regina, you need to remember that I'm a badass, but you're just an ass.”

While Poppy dealt with the woman's boyfriend, I finished my wine. Just another Wednesday night at Gossip Central.

Once Poppy returned to the booth, she and I discussed the best way to approach Boone. We didn't want him to think for a second that we suspected him or didn't trust him. There was no way we were willing to risk a lifelong friendship on the long shot that in some crazy fit of passion Boone had actually hit Jett over the head.

Eventually we decided to start with asking Boone what he knew about Jett's intended research and to ease into the conversation about his mother's difficulties with the CDM initiation.

•   •   •

The witching hour was well under way by the time I pulled into my driveway. There were no lights on in Dad's apartment, and I could hear Gran's snores as I let myself inside the quiet house. Tiptoeing past her room, I could see Banshee's eyes glowing from the foot of Gran's bed, and the cat hissed when I walked by.

I hissed back and headed to my own room. Exhaustion and booze inspired me to forgo my usual nightly ritual. Instead of washing and moisturizing my face, I kicked off my shoes and socks, stripped off my jeans, shirt, and bra, and crawled under the sheet.

In the few seconds before I entered dreamland, I thought about Jake and wondered how his encounter with Meg had played out. Had she admitted her subterfuge? Did she break character, or continue to pretend to be more emotionally distraught than she really was? Would Jake's ex continue to come between us?

B
ecause Thursday was the slowest day at Devereaux's Dime Store, Taryn had the day off and we closed at noon. I had almost forgotten Chief Kincaid was planning to reinterview my father, so when he strolled in at ten, my heart skidded into my stomach. He approached me, and after asking me a few questions about my text to him regarding Nadine, he nodded to Dad and discreetly slipped into the storage room. A second or so later, my father followed him.

They were gone for nearly an hour, and when Dad returned, he whispered in my ear, “I let Eldridge out the back way. Everything went fine. I answered his questions as you and I discussed, and he told me not to worry. But he also said not to leave town.”

“Yikes!” I squeaked. “That doesn't sound good.” Then, trying to make us both feel better, I hugged Dad and said, “No need to stick around the store. I can handle the few remaining customers myself.”

Kissing my cheek, Dad headed for the exit, and for the next forty-five minutes I restocked shelves. At twelve I bagged the last shopper's purchases—a bottle of Old Spice aftershave and a roll of Necco
Wafers—said good-bye, and locked the door behind him.

Hurrying into the back room to freshen up for my lunch date, I grabbed my tote bag and headed into the staff bathroom. After combing my hair, brushing on some blush, and applying lip gloss, I changed into a pair of white jeans and an aqua silk T-shirt. Next I got rid of my sneakers and socks and slipped on a pair of sandals.

I noticed I had fifteen minutes before Noah was due, so I took a seat at the soda fountain, grabbed a pen and pad of paper from my purse, and made a list of what I needed to do regarding Jett's murder. I'd received a text from Jake saying his confrontation with Meg had gone as well as could be expected and that he had asked a friend from his law enforcement days to look into my stepfather's financial situation. He'd call me later.

Poppy and I had arranged to get together with Boone at his house for pizza and drinks at six. I'd suggested we make him supper, but Poppy claimed that the only thing domestic about her was that she lived indoors, so we'd compromised by agreeing to bring takeout for dinner.

We were going to ask Boone about Jett's research, then ply him with pepperoni and booze before we delved into Mrs. St. Onge's difficulties with the Confederate Daughters of Missouri initiation.

I chewed on the end of my pen. Who else did I need to interview?
Ah. Yes.
Miss Ophelia. I had a vague memory that she was somehow related to Noah. Maybe a second or third cousin twice removed. I hoped he'd have time to go with me to see her after we ate.

Before I could come up with anyone else to
question, I saw Noah's car pulling into the space in front of the store. Stuffing the pen and paper into my purse, I ran to the entrance, disengaged the dead bolt, and let myself out, then relocked the door behind me.

Like Jake's darkly powerful truck, Noah's taiga green Jaguar mirrored his character. The Jag was as sleek and sophisticated as its owner.

As Noah hopped out of the driver's side and hugged me, he said, “I am so sorry about your stepfather's death. Are you and your mom okay?”

“I'm fine,” I assured him. “I barely knew the man, and Mom seems more interested in his will than what happened to her husband.”

Letting my comment go, Noah opened my door and handed me inside. Once I was seated, he smiled and said, “You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks.” I tilted my head. “You look pretty darn terrific yourself.”

As always, Noah was perfectly turned out. His chinos fit as if they'd been tailored just for him, and the crisply starched, striped button-down shirt showed off his broad shoulders.

While he walked around the Jag and settled in behind the wheel, I allowed myself a tiny contented groan. I loved the whole luxury-car experience. The ivory leather seat felt heavenly, and the burled walnut veneer dashboard gleamed richly in the sunlight.

Breathing deeply, I inhaled the scent of Noah's signature aftershave. It permeated the interior, and I was brought back to our first date. I had felt like the luckiest girl in the world. The hints of Brazilian rosewood and cardamom in the Amouage Dia Pour
Homme would forever remind me of Noah and that idyllic time.

I was still a little surprised at how easily we had slipped back into our old relationship. After the initial awkwardness when we'd first started seeing each other again, we'd picked up where we'd left off so long ago. It was almost as if we'd never broken up in high school. As if the past thirteen years had just been a bad dream.

Of course, if that were true, Noah and I would probably be married and Jake wouldn't be in the picture at all. My chest tightened. How was it possible that I cared for both men? I had never been one to date more than one guy at a time. What had gotten into me?

Noah had been silent as he concentrated on driving through the bustling downtown area. With people on their way to and from lunch, Shadow Bend was really hopping, and I noticed the alien hunters that had been at the police station were now marching around the village square. Their odd costumes and posters made them hard to miss.

When Noah merged onto the highway, he said, “I hope you don't mind. I thought we'd head into Kansas City for lunch.”

“Sounds good to me.” I smiled and asked, “Where are we going?”

“Webster House.” Noah put the Jaguar on cruise control and smiled broadly. “You mentioned once that you wish you'd gone there when you worked in the city, so I took a chance and made a reservation.”

“Wow!” I grinned back at him. “I can't believe you remembered that.”

“Well, you did go on and on about it being built
in 1885 and being one of the oldest public school buildings in Kansas City and on the National Register of Historic Places.” He chuckled. “And you may have mentioned once or twice that it's full of fabulous antiques and has great food.”

“Oh. Right.” I felt heat flooding my cheeks. “I guess I did rhapsodize over it just a little. Anyway, thanks for taking me there.”

“You are very welcome.” Noah laced his fingers with mine and said, “I can't imagine a better way to spend a sunny afternoon.”

We rode hand in hand until Noah said, “By the way, why did you and Del Vecchio go talk to my mother last night? What in the heck did Nadine say about your stepfather that made you suspicious?”

“Well . . .” I hesitated. I hated to sound like I had thought Nadine was a murderer, but I couldn't think of a way around it, so I said, “Tony heard your mom say that Jett had better stop poking his nose where it didn't belong, and I wanted to know what she meant by that.”

“Did my mother even let you in the door?” Noah put on his turn signal, accelerated, and passed a slow-moving Kia Sorento. “I'm guessing Nadine wasn't too thrilled to see you.”

“She was reluctant, but I didn't give her much of a choice,” I admitted. “Although the only thing she would tell us was that Jett stopped by her house wanting to see some private papers regarding your dad's great-great-great-grandfather's part in the Civil War. When she refused to show him the documents, he threatened her with some unnamed humiliation if she denied him access to those records.”

“Damn!” Noah shook his head, then steered the
Jag around a tractor trailer that had just merged onto the highway from the entrance ramp. “I sure hope Nadine has an alibi, because that gives her a hell of a motive.”

Had Noah seriously just said his mother was a suspect? I jerked my gaze from the road to his face and saw that his eyes were twinkling.

“You can relax.” I crossed my arms. “Nadine was at a luncheon during the official time of death.” I pursed my lips. “Unless you think she might have hired a hit man to do the job for her.”

“Nah.” Noah grinned. “I see all of her financial transactions, and I haven't noticed any large withdrawals or suspicious checks.”

“That's a relief.” I watched the countryside whiz by for a few minutes, then said, “But speaking of Jett's research, when you and Boone worked with him to reopen the library, did my stepfather say what archives he was interested in viewing or why he was in such a rush?”

“Boone handled most of the communication with Benedict.” Noah shrugged. “I think your stepfather said he was on deadline for a book he was writing about Missouri's part in the Civil War.”

“And that information leads me to a favor I need to ask of you.”

Before I could even finish my request, Noah said, “Anything.”

My heart warmed at his sweet response. I was touched that Noah was so willing to help. “You're somehow related to Miss Ophelia, right?” When Noah nodded, I continued. “Do you have time after lunch to go with me to ask her what she knows about the Civil War in regards to Shadow Bend?”

“That depends.” Noah grinned. “Can you narrow
down what you're interested in? Otherwise we'll be at Miss Ophelia's for the next week or two. She's a living encyclopedia on that subject.”

“I think I can do that.”

“Then I'd be happy to visit Miss Ophelia with you.” Noah winked. “Since I knew your store was closed for the afternoon, I arranged for Elexus to cover my patients and I took off the rest of the day, too.”

Without any warning, Nadine's comments about Noah's beautiful new hire popped into my head, and I suddenly blurted out, “I hear Dr. Rodriquez is gorgeous. That she looks like a supermodel.”

“Uh.” Noah glanced at me with a puzzled frown. “Who told you that?”

For a split second, I'd considered claiming that the beautiful young physician's appearance was the talk of Shadow Bend. But I only fibbed if I was fairly certain that I could get away with a lie, and Nadine would probably relay last night's discussion to Noah in excruciating detail, padded with a few embellishments of her own.

“Nadine may have mentioned that Dr. Rodriquez was attractive,” I muttered.

“Ah.” Noah's lips twisted into a cynical smile. “I'm guessing that Mom was bragging about Elexus's royal ancestry, too.”

“Uh-huh.” Why had I introduced this subject? It made me look like a jealous idiot. And I had no right to that emotion. Not with the whole Noah/Jake situation. Neither man owed me exclusivity.

“I don't suppose Mom mentioned that Elexus is engaged?” Noah asked.

“We didn't really get into it.” I truly wished the
Jag's floorboards would open up and swallow me. I hated this whole conversation.

“Mom was just trying to stir up trouble.” Noah groaned. “As usual.”

“What a surprise.” I patted his knee. “Sorry I mentioned it.”

“I bet Mom was thrilled to see you with Del Vecchio.” Noah grimaced.

“Not especially.” I shook my head. “She did try to get him to take her side, but otherwise she mostly ignored him. She's sort of hard to figure out.”

“You're telling me.” Noah's gaze met mine, and we both sighed.

For the rest of the drive we ignored both the murder and our families and caught up on what we'd been doing since we'd last seen each other. We both were reading books in genres that were new to us. Noah had discovered Michael Crichton's early medical thrillers and was engrossed in
Drug of Choice
.

I was testing the romance waters, literally, with a novel set on a cruise ship. I'd picked it up because the heroine was an Alpha Sigma Alpha alumni and I wanted to support my sorority. I wasn't sure I believed the premise of happily-ever-after, but it was a fun read.

Noah parked in the restaurant's garage, and we walked across the street. The front entrance of the Webster House's Romanesque-style building was impressive. Steps led to red double doors, which swung open on well-oiled hinges. And, as promised, the interior was filled with amazing antiques. Noah patiently waited as I paused to examine several that caught my attention.

We were seated at a table for two with a fabulous view of Kansas City's downtown. Once we were
settled, the hostess handed us the menus and told us that our server would be with us shortly.

As I studied the selections, I enjoyed the restaurant's warm ambience. It reminded me of an English country home. Or at least the image of an English country home presented by the PBS programs I watched.

When our server approached, Noah asked me, “Is it too early for wine?”

“Probably.” My pulse jumped at his mischievous little grin, and I said, “But let's have some anyway.”

After sending the waitress off to get a bottle of 2009 Santa Margherita, Noah took both my hands and said, “This is so nice. It seems like something always comes up to keep us from being alone.”

“That reminds me. Are mother and baby okay?” I felt guilty that I hadn't asked about his patient earlier. “Did they make it to the hospital in time?”

“She's fine.” Noah's eyes lit up. “And she had a healthy baby girl. Her husband is deployed, so I stayed with her until her ob-gyn showed up. Dr. Barnes was in St. Louis, so the patient was lucky she got there in time.” He chuckled. “Although I doubt the new mother felt fortunate at the time. Six hours of labor is not fun.”

Before I could respond, I heard a female voice behind me say, “Dr. Underwood. You're just the man I've wanted to talk to.”

“Hi, Kiara.” Noah greeted the owner of the voice. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Kiara Howard walked up to our table. She was the event coordinator for the Shadow Bend country club. As always, the striking African-American woman was beautifully turned out. Today she wore
a gorgeous peach silk suit, and suddenly I felt underdressed.

When she noticed that it was me with Noah, she said, “Dev, nice to see you.”

“Always fun to run into a familiar face.” I smiled at her. “What brings you into the city?”

“I'm waiting for a couple who are considering holding their wedding at the country club.” She glanced at her watch. “They requested an interview before driving all the way to Shadow Bend.”