Mug Shot (15 page)

“Having sex in a restaurant is generally frowned upon by the health department.”

“They won't hear about it from me.”

I shook my head. “Still not happening.”

“Let's go to your place.”

I'd never seen him so horny, but it was totally adorable. “Let's see if we can make it through one date without getting into an argument first.”

“We did, the night you got thrown in the zoo.”

“That doesn't count. I was too tired to fight that night.”

Ryder grinned at me. “You're playing hard to get this time. Lucky for you I don't mind a challenge.”

I glared at him. “I'm not playing anything. If we're going to do this, I don't want a repeat of last time. I'd prefer it last more than a week.”

“Yeah, but you have to admit it was one hell of a week.”

I shook my head tiredly in response. He was wearing me out.

“What about if I take you out on a real date tonight and am a complete gentleman?”

“That's a start, although I won't believe you can be a gentleman until I see it.”

After coming out into the front of the house and finding it empty, I let Tiffany and Shane go home and closed up Java Jive three hours early. I had never had to do that in the entire time I'd been manager, but I felt it was necessary tonight. We'd only sold five dollars' worth of coffee in the last two hours, and that meant it was actually costing us money to stay open. I dreaded having to cut people's hours back, but that was the next step. As if I needed another thing to stress about lately.

While Ryder waited, I changed out of my work clothes and into something a little nicer for our date. Going on a “real” date with Ryder had me jittery with excitement. With Pete home for now and Stan agreeing to talk to the cops about the meth lab, I could finally begin to relax and have some fun.

Ryder stood as I emerged from the ladies' room. “You look pretty.”

“Did I not look pretty earlier?” I blurted out. Evidently I was still a little on edge.

“I'm trying to be a gentleman, but you're making it rather difficult,” he said dryly.

“Oh, right. Sorry. You caught me off guard. I didn't expect it.”

“Are you going to bust my balls all night?”

“Maybe,” I replied. “Where are we going on our date?”

“There's a place I've been thinking about taking you. I think you'll like it. There's no way you can be in a bad mood after you've been there.”

“Who says I'm in a bad mood?”

He raised an eyebrow at me and tried not to smile.

“Fine. But it better not be some sappy tourist attraction.”

“Where are you taking me? Clarksville?” I grumbled as Ryder drove us up old Highway 41 through a rolling rural area northwest of the city.

He chuckled. “It's not much farther. Trust me, it's worth it.”

A few minutes later, he pulled off on a rock road. An illuminated sign said M
ARCHAND
F
ARM
. We were going to a farm at night? I was skeptical, to say the least, but I kept my mouth shut. The tree-lined lane opened up into a small parking lot full of vehicles. Marchand Farm was evidently the place to be. And Ryder was right—it was worth the drive. There was a lovely old farmhouse and a charming barn on the property, with a handful of people milling around outside, sipping steaming drinks. The entire place glowed with twinkling lights, and you couldn't swing a cat without hitting some sort of Christmas decoration.

“How did you find this place?” I asked as we got out of his car and headed for the entrance.

“I've been coming here for years. It's a great farm. They have corn mazes and pumpkins in the fall and host farmer's markets in the summer, too.”

What happened to my streetwise cop who enjoyed harassing people and could take a bullet like a boss? I was surprised he even knew what a corn maze was. I supposed everyone needed some sort of release, though. He took my hand and led me around the side of the barn, toward a hayride cart.

When we approached an older man stepping down out of the attached tractor, Ryder said to him, “What are the odds of getting a private ride?”

Turning around, the man broke into a smile and threw an arm around Ryder's shoulders. “Ryder, my boy! It's good to see you again so soon.”

“Hello, Ed.” Ryder gestured to me. “I thought I'd bring Juliet by and show her the place. Ed, this is Juliet Langley. Juliet, Ed Marchand. He's the owner.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, extending my hand.

Ed grasped my hand and smiled warmly. “My pleasure.” He said to Ryder, “It's about time you brought a lady friend out here. You'll have to go introduce her to Bonnie, or I'll never hear the end of it.”

Ryder smiled. “I'll be sure to do that. Now are you going to take us on a hayride or what?”

“You bet.” Ed held out his hand to help me up into the cart and then hurried around to start up the tractor.

Ryder hopped in next to me and put his arm around my shoulders. The tractor roared to life and started pulling us across the bumpy field.

I said, “Okay, talk. What's your connection to this place? You're no farm boy, but you seem to know the owner pretty well.”

“Ed was my father-in-law. Amanda's dad.”

“Oh,” I breathed. He brought me to his deceased wife's parents' farm? That felt like a big deal.

He took my hand. “Amanda grew up here, so of course we would always come here to get our Christmas tree. After she died…I kept on coming back every year. Her family still treats me like one of their own.”

“And they're okay with you bringing a date here?”

He smiled. “Are you kidding? They've been on me for years to bring someone out with me.”

“So I'm the first one?”

“Yes, you are.”

At his admission, I shivered as an unexpected wave of delight coursed through me. He let go of my hand to wrap his arm back around me. Hoping he assumed my trembling was from the cold, I laid my head on his shoulder and let what he'd said sink in for a while. This was a huge step for him, and it seemed like he was making a real effort to let me get to know him.

In the lights of the tractor, I could see that we were coming up on a grove of evergreen trees. The tractor rumbled to a stop, and Ed jumped down out of the cab.

He said to Ryder, “You've already got your tree. Do you want another one?”

“Yeah, I want Juliet to have the full experience.”

Ed came around to help me out of the cart. He handed Ryder a saw and a lantern and handed me a big flashlight. “You two have fun, now. You call me when you're ready for a ride back.”

“Will do. Thanks, Ed,” said Ryder.

The sky was clear, and the moon was full, bathing the rolling countryside in enough light that we hardly needed our lantern. Ryder grabbed my hand and led me into the rows of small evergreens.

“I'm going to go out on a limb and guess you don't have a Christmas tree in your apartment,” he said.

“You nailed that one. It's like you're a detective or something.”

“I am pretty smart. Let's find you a tree.”

I furrowed my brow. “There's one problem with that. I, um…don't have any decorations to put on the tree once I get it home.”

“Did your ex steal those when he left, too?”

“No, it's just that I've never had my own tree. I've always had to work too much around the holidays to have time to put one up, or even to be home to enjoy it.”

“You really do work way too much.”

“Tell me about it.”

He stopped walking and set the lantern and saw down on the ground. “Like anything you see?”

I looked up at him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Yes.”

Taking my face in his hands, he kissed me, this time sweetly and softly, the complete opposite of our hot and heavy lip-lock earlier. I'd been shocked at his choice of venue for our date tonight. I would never have taken Ryder for the type to suggest a trip to a farm, much less be so obviously into keeping a domestic holiday tradition. Our previous relationship had been over practically before it started, and as a result, I didn't know all that much about him. He hadn't let me see much of his softer side before. Normally he was all testosterone and smack talk, but he had a real sweetness to him that peeked through every once in a while.

Once our kiss was over, I said, “We'd better focus on finding a tree, or Ed will think we're up to no good out here.”

We wandered through the rows of trees, stopping every so often to share another kiss in the moonlight. I easily found a small tree I liked, and Ryder cut it down for me. Ed picked us up and drove us back to the barn, where we drank hot chocolate and met his wife, Bonnie. She exclaimed over Ryder having a “girlfriend” and insisted on loading me up with tree decorations from their gift shop. She refused to let us pay for them, nearly tearing up over the fact that we “made such a lovely couple.” I felt uncomfortable, to say the least, but I could see why Ryder kept coming back here year after year. We said our goodbyes to the Marchands and headed back to town.

After we'd been driving a while, I asked, “So you've really never brought a woman to the farm to meet your in-laws before?”

“No,” he said seriously.

“Surely there's been someone in ten years that you've at least thought about bringing…”

“Nope.” He cracked a smile. “You should consider yourself lucky.”

I laughed. “Of course I do. I bet not many people get to see the side of you that isn't all badass and tough.”

“Like I said, you're a very lucky woman.”

When we got to my apartment, we hauled the tree and the decorations up the stairs and deposited them onto my living room floor.

“I guess you found a way to get inside my apartment after all,” I said, giving him a mock punch on the arm.

Ryder chuckled. “I'm pretty crafty when I need to be.”

While we were setting up my tree, however, he grew quiet. I wondered if decorating the tree with me was bringing back some unsettling memories of Amanda, so I didn't say anything.

After we finished hanging the lights, he finally said, “I've been going over the case file for the Hollingsworth murder. Cromwell has the evidence on Pete, but something doesn't add up for me.”

That was not what I expected him to be brooding about, but I was ecstatic he was thinking about Pete's case from another angle. “I'm glad to hear it's not just me. What are you thinking?”

“Pete doesn't strike me as the type of guy who would kill his girlfriend over her cheating on him. He doesn't have that alpha-male killer instinct about him.”

“Are you calling him a wimp?”

Chuckling, he said, “Not exactly. There's got to be someone out there with a better motive. Take your boyfriend, Stan, for example.”

“I don't think Stan did it.”

“Why?”

“Well, for one thing, Stan really
is
a wimp. And the more I talk to him about Cecilia's murder, the more I know he didn't do it.”

His face darkened. “I still don't want you hanging around with him.”

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, speaking of better motives, guess who inherits all of Cecilia's money and assets, except of course for Hollingsworth Industries?”

“Tell me it's not Pete,” he said tiredly.

“Nope. Her sister, Abigail.”

“So? After her fall down the stairs, she's not exactly in any shape to go around killing people.”

“True, but her husband is. His business is failing big-time, and her trust fund is almost empty.”

He froze with an ornament in his hand. “How do you know that?”

“I heard a rumor,” I said nonchalantly.

“Juliet,” he said through clenched teeth. “Are you playing detective again? Because if you are—”

“Oh, calm down. Stan told me.” Not a lie exactly, because Stan
did
tell me about Kent's business, just after I told him I already knew about it. Details. “Did you also know that Cecilia and Kent hated each other? She never approved of him, and one time when she called him out, Kent came at her physically. That's an interesting coincidence, don't you think?”

“Stan tell you that, too?”

“Yep.”

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Okay, I'll go to Cromwell with your new information. Happy now?”

I put my arms around his neck. “Very.” After giving him a kiss, I stepped back and looked at my new tree appreciatively. “It's beautiful.”

“It is. And now to continue being the perfect gentleman I am, I'm going to head home, alone. I'm not even going to bring up the fact that I'm already inside your apartment, and that it would be very easy and convenient for me to stay here tonight.”

“Not even going to bring it up, huh?”

“No. I'm that much of a gentleman.”

I smiled. “Thanks for tonight.”

Ryder pulled me close. “You're welcome.”

Leaning down, he brushed my lips with his. My entire body ached for him to whisk me back to my bedroom and ravish me, but after the stink I'd made about it earlier, I couldn't even suggest it. He pulled away, but I couldn't help myself from grabbing his shirt and pressing my lips against his. He responded, holding me tight and returning my lustful kiss.

Too soon, he broke away from me. “That wasn't fair.”

“Yeah, but it was fun.”

“Good night, Juliet. I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Good night.”

Java Jive was nearly as empty the next morning as it had been the night before. I knew students were starting to take finals, which would mean they would be heading home for Christmas break soon, but we still should have had our usual local adult clientele. We all occupied ourselves with jobs we hadn't had the time (or the desire) to accomplish while we'd been busy, like cleaning out the ice machine and scouring the exhaust hood over the grill.

Pete came in around ten, and I rushed from behind the counter to give him a hug. “You don't know how happy I am to see you back here,” I said.

Evidently I was squeezing him too hard, because he said, “Jules, I can't breathe.”

I stepped back. “Sorry. How are you feeling this morning? Did you sleep?”

“Sort of. Better than I did in jail, which isn't really saying a lot.”

“Want something to eat or some coffee?”

“Coffee would be nice.”

He sat down at the counter, and I went to get the coffeepot. When I turned back around to pour his coffee, I noticed one of the customers staring at us, or staring at Pete, rather. The woman got up from her chair and sped out the door, leaving her coffee and a half-eaten muffin on the table. Pete hadn't seen any of it. My stomach twisted as I realized what had happened. Word was out that Pete, the owner of Java Jive, had been arrested for murder. Who was going to go have coffee at a murderer's restaurant? I pushed the thought out of my mind and concentrated on the fact that Pete was home and safe, for now.

As I poured his coffee, he asked, “Want me to do anything here in the office? I'm on a very extended vacation from my real job.”

The hits just kept coming. My heart aching for him, I sighed, “Oh, Pete, I'm so sorry.” He loved his job. He was a sound engineer at a big recording studio, and he was damn good at it—one of the best in the business. “And, yeah, since you're here, can you do your normal payroll and accounting thing?”

“Sure.”

“That would be awesome. Thank you.”

The lunch crowd wasn't much bigger than the breakfast crowd, but we at least sold enough food and drinks to break even. When I went into the office, I noticed Pete's keys on the desk. Picking up his key ring, I zeroed in on a key with a pink cover on it, which I knew was to Cecilia's house. An idea started forming in my head. Pete was at the counter eating lunch, so I took the opportunity to swipe Cecilia's key. Between his home, car, studio, and the coffeehouse, he had a gazillion keys, and he kept them all on one ring. Surely he wouldn't notice one missing. I pocketed it and called Savannah.

When she answered, I asked, “Hey, can you meet me somewhere at five?”

“Well, it depends. I'm supposed to be at a Christmas Children meeting at six-thirty. Will it take long?”

“It shouldn't.”

“What will we be doing, exactly?”

“Um…” I hesitated. “A little more breaking and entering? Only this time I have a key, and I know for sure no one will be there.”

“Where are we going, Juliet?” she asked sharply.

“Cecilia's house.”

“Cheese and
crackers
! Have you gone bonkers? We can't go into a murder victim's house!”

“It's not like it's the scene of the murder. The police probably don't even have it taped off.”

“You're giving me heart palpitations, girl.”

“Please?”

She sighed. “Fine. But only because you need someone to watch your back. You're as crazy as a June bug.”

“I owe you.”

“Yes, you do.”

Pete left a little after four, supposedly to go home and try to sleep some more, but I was pretty sure it was because of the weird vibe inside Java Jive. Everyone, even some of our employees, started acting strangely whenever Pete was in the room. I didn't know what to say to him about it, so I didn't bring it up. The whole day was a snoozefest, so much so that I was actually looking forward to the excitement of a little B and E at Cecilia's house. It was a sick thought, but I couldn't help it.

A few minutes before five, I headed to Cecilia's house. It was also in the university area, one of the lovely older homes that were well maintained. I only had to wait a few moments for Savannah to arrive, and when she got out of her car, I could tell she wasn't very happy with what we were about to do.

“I'm going to make one last plea for you to come to your senses about this. Just because you have a key doesn't make it okay for you to enter someone's home,” she said. “And I assume you got the key from Pete, who happens to be charged with the murder of the homeowner. You're putting him at risk, you know.”

“He didn't give it to me. I sort of…stole it from him,” I admitted.

Her eyes got wide. “You've gone off the deep end. I'm out of here.” She turned to leave, and I grabbed her arm.

“Look, I'm sorry. Think about if it was Carl who was wrongfully accused of murder. Wouldn't you move heaven and earth to see that he was cleared?”

“Carl is my husband. Of course I would.”

“This is no different.”

“It is, because Pete's not your husband.”

Stung by her words, I couldn't come up with anything to say.

Her face fell. “I'm sorry, sweetie. I didn't want to hurt your feelings. I'm just trying to knock some sense into you.”

“I'll just do this by myself,” I muttered, starting up the walk.

Savannah caught up to me at the front porch. “No, I'll come with you. This is important. I don't want Pete to rot in jail, either.”

“Thanks,” I said sincerely, taking her hand. She was wearing her winter gloves, which would actually be helpful in our breaking and entering. I put mine on as well, continuing, “Keep your gloves on so we don't leave any fingerprints. That way, no one will ever know we were here.”

We easily slipped into Cecilia's house. It was a beautiful colonial style on the outside. However, the décor on the inside was completely modern and sleek, just like Cecilia. I hadn't been to her house before. She would rather have eaten broken glass than invited me over to socialize. The place was spotless, a testament to Talicia at least not lying about her housekeeping skills. Savannah, who had been there before, led the way to Cecilia's home office, which was just as neat and tidy as the rest of the place.

“I figure she kept her personal information here, if that's what you're looking for,” she said.

“Right.” I turned on her computer, but it was password protected. “Damn. I'd love to look at her email, but there's probably no way we can guess her password, is there?”

“How about ‘Pete'?”

I typed in “Pete,” but no luck. “How about the baby daddy's name? Have you heard anything yet?”

“I have a lunch scheduled with some ladies tomorrow. Hopefully I'll find out then.”

“Great. Let's look through the desk.” I turned on the flashlight app on my phone for some light, because we were afraid to turn on any of the house lights. I took the right set of drawers and Savannah took the left. I found files of normal household stuff, like bank statements, appliance warranty papers, tax returns, and investment account statements.

Savannah asked, “Find anything interesting?”

“Not really…” I replied, beginning to peruse her bank statements.

“I think I did.”

My head snapped up. “What?”

“Oh, just her life insurance policy…worth three million dollars, with Abigail listed as her beneficiary.”

“Whoa,” I breathed.

She nodded. “Whoa is right. That's a good chunk of money, even to a Hollingsworth.”

I went back to looking through her bank statements. After a few minutes, I was about to give it up when a large withdrawal caught my eye. It was a check written to Bastidas Enterprises. “Hey, what's Bastidas Enterprises? And why did Cecilia write them a check for fifty grand?”

Closing up the drawer she had finished looking through, Savannah made a face. “That's her landscape architect. She had her backyard redone this summer and put in a koi pond. Everyone in town is putting in a koi pond this year.”

“Fifty grand for a hole with a few fish in it?” Rich people. But that hardly sounded like something tight-ass Cecilia would spend her money on.

“Alejandro Bastidas is the best landscape architect around.”

“Why did you make a face earlier, then?”

“Well, Bastidas Enterprises and I used to have an agreement to refer clients to each other. That is, until Alejandro upset one of my clients by coming on to her. He
is
rather touchy-feely when he talks to you, but I figured it's because he's South American.” She shrugged. “I quit referring him after that, and I don't think he was too happy about it.”

“Did you refer Cecilia to him?”

“Yes, but that was before the other incident. She never complained of his behavior toward her, though. Abigail used him, too, and didn't have a problem that I know of.”

My phone rang noisily, and we both nearly jumped out of our skin. After I caught my breath, I looked and saw that it was Ryder. I seriously considered not answering, but he never called unless he had a good reason. Maybe he had news on Pete's case.

I took a breath to steady my voice. “Hello?”

“Hey, babe.”

“Um…hi.” He said he was going to call me today, but what were the odds he called while I was doing something illegal?

“Where are you right now?”

I froze. His voice sounded smug. He knew something. I looked at Savannah helplessly, and she cocked her head to the side, a confused look on her face.

I lied, “I'm…at Cori's getting a hot dog.” I had a weakness for a local hot dog joint, and it was a plausible story that I had left work to satisfy a hot dog craving.

“No, you're not.”

Shit. I hurried to one of the front windows and peeked outside. There was Ryder, lounging lazily against the hood of his car. My heart sank. I hung up my phone, and Savannah came up behind me.

“What's going on?” she asked, bewildered.

“We're in trouble. Ryder's outside.”

“WHAT?” she exploded, beginning to pace around the room. “How could I let you do this to me?”

Kicking myself, I sighed. “I'm so sorry I got you into this.”

“Juliet, we're going to
jail
!”

“Well…Ryder didn't seem too angry. Maybe he'll just give us a slap on the wrist.”

“I can't go to
jail
!” she wailed, tears spilling down her cheeks. “I have a holiday party to throw!”

“I know. Just calm down—”

She came at me and got in my face. “I can't believe you talked me into this and then…and then got us
caught
!”

“I'm sorry—”

“Sorry isn't going to help much on this one, Juliet!” She collapsed onto the nearest chair, sobbing.

“Hey, don't cry,” I said, not knowing what to do to get her to calm down. I patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

Savannah turned to me, her face red and streaked with tears. “You
always
do this. You take too many chances and get yourself into horrible situations. Now you've dragged me along with you!”

She was right. She had tried to talk me out of this, but I wouldn't hear of it. I had to do something to keep her out of trouble. “Look, I'll take the heat alone. You go out the back door and find a place to hide outside. I'll go deal with Ryder. He's not going to throw me in jail, I don't think, and he doesn't know you're here with me. When it's safe for you to leave, I'll call you. Okay?”

She looked up at me warily and sniffled. “Okay. Just…next time, when I tell you something is a bad idea, will you listen to me?”

“I will.”

Savannah scurried out the back, and I headed out front to get in a fight. I couldn't for the life of me figure out how in the hell he found me.

As I approached him, I could see he was wearing that condescending smile I hated. I said, “Hey, long time no see.”

He ignored me. “You lied to an officer of the law, babe. And it looks like you're trespassing.”

I wasn't sure of the best way to handle this one. I could get mad and push back, which would cause a big fight. Or, I could beg for mercy and forgiveness and maybe even cry a little. Based on my past history of epic, relationship-ending arguments with Ryder, I chose the latter.

“Yes, and I'm sorry. Now what?”

He must have been expecting me to lose my shit, because he looked bewildered after I admitted my guilt. “Uh, maybe you want to tell me what you were doing in there?”

Thinking it would be way too Scooby-Doo-ish to say “searching for clues,” even though that was technically what I was doing, I went with, “I thought there might be something in Cecilia's house that would point to someone other than Pete being her killer.”

“Well, did you find anything?”

“Yes…”

“Are you going to tell me about it?”

“Maybe…Wait. How long have you been here?”

“I'll be the one asking the questions.”

“You've been here for a while, haven't you? Why didn't you bust me sooner? So I had time to look around?” I asked suspiciously.

He stared at me wordlessly.

I complained, “Will you at least tell me how you knew I was here?”

“Pete called me.”

“What?”
Pete knew what I was up to? No freaking way.

Ryder sighed. “He called me when he realized you'd taken a key off his ring, and he put two and two together and assumed you had plans to use it to get into Cecilia's house. He was trying to protect you, Juliet.”

“By ratting me out to the cops?” I was pissed now.

“I'm not going to take you in. But I am going to say this…” He took me by both shoulders and looked me square in the eye. “If you
ever
pull a stunt like this again, I'm not going to protect you, relationship or not. Do you understand that?”