Mug Shot (17 page)

Stan worried way too much about what other people thought. I said, “No, we're friends, remember?”

He smiled. “Yes, I know. But you have to understand—my ego has been badly bruised. If anyone asks, I dumped you.”

“Fair enough.”

After I changed clothes, I drove us over to the country club. Stan's eye had swelled so much that it was only open a fraction of an inch. He didn't care, though. He wanted to make a point.

When we stepped through the door, all eyes swiveled toward us. I wasn't exactly dressed to go to the club—I had on a nice enough sweater, but I was wearing jeans, evidently a fashion faux pas around here. And of course, Stan looked like he'd been hit by a truck. We strolled over to the bar and sat down.

“Two vodka martinis,” Stan said to the bartender.

“Make that a beer for me, please,” I interjected. I didn't have to keep up appearances anymore, now that I was no longer officially dating Stan.

Stan was being pretty quiet, playing with the coaster in front of him. We got our drinks and sipped them in silence for a while.

The silence finally got to me. “What's up?”

He turned to me and said apologetically, “I don't know how to act around you now.”

I hid a smile. Stan was worrying about what other people thought again. “You should act the same way you always have, only now you can't think about having sex with me. Friends don't do that.”

Chuckling, he said, “That's an interesting way of putting it.” He went back to sipping his drink, but didn't seem as dejected.

I toyed with the bracelet he'd given me for a moment, then removed it from my arm. “Since we're just friends now, I should probably return this.” I held the bracelet out to him.

Stan took the bracelet from me, but instantly put it back on my wrist. “Absolutely not. I gave it to you because I wanted you to have it, not because I thought we'd be together forever.” He smiled at me. “Do you know you're the first woman who has ever offered to give jewelry back to me when we called it quits? Most women don't like to part with shiny things—but then, you're not most women.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

During the lull in our conversation, I heard the hushed tones of people whispering behind us. Even though I couldn't make out what they were saying, I could tell they were talking about us, or Stan at least. He was right about the club being a good place to start the rumor mill. All we needed to do was let it slip to one gossipy person that Kent beat up Stan, and everyone would know within minutes. But who? I turned around to scan the crowd. I didn't know anyone here. Wait. I spotted a familiar face across the room.

I nudged Stan. “Isn't that Jenny Vaughn over there?”

He turned around and looked. “Yes.”

“You two on speaking terms since you relieved her of her virginity?”

Smiling sheepishly, he said, “Yes, we're on speaking terms. She's always had a soft spot for me.”

“Let's get her to come over here.”

“Why?”

“I'm feeding your rumor mill, and I need you to do something for me.”

“Name it,” he replied.

“Get her to tell you who Cecilia's baby daddy is…was. Whatever.”

He furrowed his brow. “What? Pete's the father.”

“No, he's not,” I said emphatically.

“He's not? Then who is?”

I explained, “She was cheating on Pete with another guy. I need to know his name.”

“Why?”

“I just do. Will you do it? Jenny probably won't even speak to me.”

He regarded me quizzically for a moment and then relented. “Okay.”

Stan turned around and waved at Jenny, who waved back tentatively. She flicked her eyes toward me, and I saw her jaw clench. He beckoned her over, and she got up and slowly headed for us.

Jenny Vaughn had never liked me. It stood to reason, though, because she was always besties with Cecilia, who despised me. I remembered one time when Jenny had been particularly malicious.

It had been several days after I found out my boyfriend, Danny Wright, had cheated on me with my roommate. I had caused a big stir by tricking him into taking his clothes off in one of the practice rooms in the music building, and then pulling the fire alarm, forcing him to run outside naked. My payback was something students were talking about even years later, and in the week after it happened, I'd been a campus celebrity. I had lost count of the high-fives I got from girls (and even some guys) as I walked from class to class.

Jenny Vaughn was not one of those girls.

One evening, when I was headed back to my dorm, Jenny stopped me.

“Well, well, well. Aren't you big girl on campus?” she sneered, an evil glint in her eye.

I thought that line would have worked better if she'd had a mustache to twirl, and the absurdity of the mental image made me giggle out loud.

“You got a problem, skank?” she went on, poking me in the shoulder.

I might have gotten mad, but her poke didn't even hurt. I found it much too funny that Jenny was furious over something, and I had no clue why she had chosen to turn her wrath on me.

I replied, “It seems like you're the one with the problem.”

She got in my face. “You might be getting kudos for how you got back at Danny, but let's not forget what really happened. You got cheated on. Big-time.”

“So? Danny is a sleaze, in case you hadn't noticed. I'm just thankful I figured it out when I did.”

Going on as if I hadn't said anything, she continued, “And with your own roommate. How much does she have to hate you to do something like that? There must be something wrong with you. You can't seem to keep a boyfriend
or
any female friends.”

“Um, I don't really want to hang out with either one of them considering the circumstances, so that's why we're no longer friends. Do you have a point to this? Because I'd really like to not talk to you anymore.”

Her face turned red, and she exploded, “Oh, no. It was you! Your roommate doesn't respect you, and there was obviously something you weren't doing for Danny. Something lacking in your sex life, maybe? Like, did you call out Pete's name one time when you were under Danny?”

Jenny's rant had been funny up until that last statement, when I became completely pissed off. “Whoa. You can just stop right there. You don't know me, and my life is none of your freaking business, so back off.”

“You're a loser,” she said, her face inches from mine. “And you'll always be a loser. And poor. And…and an ugly ginger!”

I had to shut her up. Redheaded She-Devil had an idea. “Your breath smells like dick, Jenny.”

She gasped, then abruptly snapped her lips shut. Her hand flew to her mouth as she backed away from me, eyes as big as saucers. I guessed I must have struck a nerve or something. Well, she was a slut, so it wasn't a total shot in the dark.

I walked away triumphantly that night, in my mind the victor of a very odd fight. After that, Jenny never spoke directly to me again, which was fine with me. However, I always felt she fueled Cecilia's fire against me any chance she got.

I jolted back to the present as Stan stood up, his hand outstretched toward Jenny.

“Hello, Jenny,” Stan said smoothly, taking her hand. “You know Juliet.”

She looked down her nose at me, but threw Stan a polite smile. “Yes, hello, Stan.” Obviously, she still wasn't talking to me. Whatever.

“Please, sit down,” he said, offering her the chair next to him. “Let me get you a drink.”

“Thank you,” she said stiffly, not taking her eyes off Stan. She asked, “What happened to you?”

“I'm fine. I just got into a little fight, that's all,” he said, acting nonchalant about it, probably knowing it would make her more interested.

“Hmm. I thought you were a lover, not a fighter.”

Chuckling, he said, “Normally, I am. But Kent and I had a minor disagreement and…he decided to end it with his fists.”

“Oh, that's terrible.” Her face softened. “How are you doing…otherwise?”

“It's been rough. You?”

She shook her head, a tear trailing down her cheek. “I lost my best friend. I miss her so much.”

Stan covered her hand with his. Go Stan. He replied quietly, “I miss her, too. You know, her visitation is tomorrow…and I wanted to make sure to reach out to the man she was seeing. He probably needs closure, too.”

Jenny's face turned angry, and she jerked her hand away. “Pete Bennett? He doesn't deserve any closure.”

Turning on a charming smile, he said, “Of course he doesn't. I mean the other man she was seeing. You know who it was, right, Jenny? Cecilia always confided everything in you. You were such a good friend to her.”

She softened at his compliment, laying her hand back on his. They seemed to have forgotten I was sitting here. “Yes, she told me about him. I even met him a couple of times. Lovely man. Please do try to contact him. His name is Alejandro Bastidas.”

My mouth involuntarily dropped open, and I had to quickly cover it with my hand. No way! Cecilia's fancy landscape architect was nailing her. Why didn't I think of it before? That explained why she would cough up fifty large for a few flowers and a fishpond. Because he was doing way more than her landscaping.

Well, my work here was done. I said, “Um, Stan, is there any way you could catch a ride home with someone? I've got to leave.”

Jenny gave me a triumphant look. “I'd be happy to drive you home, Stan. Let me go tell my friends I'm ditching them.” She sashayed back to her table and started speaking to her friends.

“Well, you certainly got your rumor mill started nicely.
And
picked up an easy score in the process. Your night is looking up,” I said.

Smiling, he replied, “I guess it's not going to be so bad after all. Thanks, Juliet.”

“I told you that you needed me as a friend. I'm a kickass wingman.”

“I'll keep that in mind.”

I gave him a hug. “I'll see you soon.”

“At the visitation tomorrow?” he asked hopefully.

I made a face. “Do I have to?”

“Juliet! I thought we were friends.”

I smiled. “Fine. I'll stop by.”

I had a glorious night of uninterrupted sleep, in part thanks to the white noise of the steady rain, and I woke up feeling refreshed for the first time in a long time. Last night after I left Stan, I sent a group text message to Pete and Ryder. Basically, I told them I was going home, alone, and I was not to be pestered by either of them, and if they had a problem with that, they could suck it. It wasn't very nice, I knew, especially since both of them were only looking out for me, but I was too tired to have a civil conversation after they had ganged up on me yesterday.

After remembering how many leftover cookies we sent home with Trevor and Ryan last night, I decided to make only half of my normal selection of baked items. If business was going to be this bad, I'd have to combat it somehow. I was putting off cutting my employees' hours back because I hated to do it, especially around the holidays, when people needed the extra money. Unfortunately, it was my job to keep us in the black, and I'd do whatever it took to accomplish that.

As I was getting out my baking ingredients, the front door opened. I couldn't imagine anyone voluntarily getting to work a whole hour early, so I went out to see who it was. It was Pete.

I frowned, jumping straight into the fight I was raring to get into. “You ratted me out when I was trying to
help
you. What's up with that?”

He rubbed his forehead. “Juliet, you were out of control.”

“Oh, it's
Juliet,
is it? I'm in big trouble now,” I said sarcastically.

“Yeah, you are,” he said, coming toward me. “If anyone besides Ryder had caught you, you would've been arrested for trespassing. And did you even stop to think that by using my key you made me an accessory?”

“You didn't give it to me.”

“I'm a freaking felon! You think they're going to take my word for it?” he cried.

“Pete, keep your pants on. You're not a felon until after the trial.”

“Quit making a joke out of it! If you keep this up, you're going to end up in jail or…or dead! You think I want that on my conscience?”

I fired back, “You think I want it on
my
conscience that I could have done something to keep you out of prison and didn't do it?”

“It's not worth it, Jules.”

That was something I couldn't stand to hear. I closed the gap between us and took his hands. “Did you just tell me you're not worth it?”

He looked down. “My life as I know it is over. You have a choice. Don't ruin your life over a lost cause.”

A tear escaped from my eyes. “Stop that right now. I won't give up on you. I won't. And I won't let you give up on yourself, either.”

He grabbed me and hugged me tightly. I clung to him, weeping quietly into his chest. I was so tired of crying, but I couldn't help it. Once we broke apart, he wiped my tears away and smiled.

“So I take it I can't change your mind about this, no matter what I say or do?” he asked.

I sniffed. “Not a chance.”

“Okay, then what can I do to help?”

“That's more like it. I've missed having you as my sidekick,” I teased.

“What? I'm not the sidekick. I'm the hero.
You're
the sidekick.”

Pete helped me make the bakery items for the day. While we worked, I filled him in on everything I had learned about Kent, Stan, Abigail, and her inheritance. Once the staff began showing up to start work, we moved our discussion into the privacy of the office.

After I was done with my story, he said, “I've got to hand it to you, Jules, you're getting really good at this sleuthing thing. I'm impressed.”

“Thanks. I need to fill Ryder in on what I found out. Hopefully, there will be enough cause that he can take it to Cromwell, and they can haul Kent in and start finding you some reasonable doubt.”

He looked hopeful. “That would be fantastic. Hey, what's up with you and Ryder Likeapony? Gertie said you guys are a thing.”

I smiled. “Yeah, we're a thing.”

“Damn. I go to jail for a couple of days and miss everything.” He smiled. “I'm happy for you, Jules. Just as long as he doesn't break your heart again.”

“Thanks.” I blew out a breath, not really knowing how to say what I needed to tell him. “Um…I have one more piece of information, and…I don't know if you want to hear it or not.”

“If it's about you and Ryder doing it, I don't want to hear it.”

“No.” I laughed, but sobered up quickly. “It's about Cecilia. I found out who she was having an affair with.”

“Tell me. I can take it.”

“His name is Alejandro Bastidas. He's the one who redesigned her backyard. Evidently he's been in a lot of women's backyards, if you know what I mean.”

He grimaced. “Ah, yes. Alejandro
Bastardo,
as I like to call him. I guess I'm not surprised. He was all she could talk about when she was getting her yard done. She'd say”—Pete mimicked her in a squeaky voice—“ ‘Oh, Alejandro is so good with symmetry and feng shui.' And, ‘Oh, Alejandro has such an eye for color. Pete, you can't tell blue from black.' And shit like that. Pissed me off.”

“I can see that.”

He went on. “That guy. Such a smug bastard. I met him a couple of times, and I didn't care for the way he looked at Cecilia. I didn't realize he was boning her, and half the town.” Shaking his head, he said, “I thought after her landscape project was completed they had parted ways, because I didn't hear another word about him. I guess I was wrong.”

“Did she ever mention that he was violent toward her?”

“No, not that I remember.”

Even so, I still thought Bastidas was worth checking out. I stood up. “Well, boss, now that I've crapped all over your day, I need to get back to work.”

“Don't sweat it—nothing is as bad as being in jail.”

“Too soon.”

When I exited the office, I noticed how eerily quiet it was. Normally you could hear the espresso machines hissing, plates clattering, and people talking, but not today. Once I got out into the front of the house, I realized the silence was due to the fact that there were literally no customers here. I looked at my watch, thinking maybe I had the wrong time and we weren't open yet, but was eight o'clock, and we had been open an hour already.

I turned to Camille and Rhonda. “How many people have been in this morning?”

Rhonda was leaning on the counter, reading the newspaper. She fumed, “Three. How are we supposed to make tip money when we're this slow?”

In my opinion, Rhonda never did anything to deserve a tip, so she didn't need to be bitching. But then again, when we were really busy a couple of months ago and the tips were flowing, she bitched about that, too. Rhonda just liked to bitch.

“It's fine. I'm sure people are just busy this time of year. Or maybe the rain is keeping them home today,” I said, trying to convince myself as much as them.

Eyes wide, Camille asked hesitantly, “Is Pete okay? He seemed a little…upset this morning.”

“He's fine,” I assured her. I couldn't tell if she was concerned about him or afraid of him. “He's going to stay in the back most of today to avoid any…um…you know…gossip or whatever.”

Rhonda went back to reading her newspaper, and Camille stood there looking nervous. I obviously didn't need to help behind the counter or in the kitchen, so I took a seat at a table and called Savannah.

She answered with, “I heard Kent beat up Stan last night.”

“Wow. News travels fast. And yes, it's true. Stan's face is not so pretty right now.”

“I also heard Stan dumped you and ran straight into the arms of Jenny Vaughn.”

I laughed. “Something like that. Stan and I are cool.”

“I hope you're not calling about doing any more snooping around. I've hung up my detective cap for good. It took me two glasses of wine and a Valium to get to sleep last night.”

I cringed. “Again, I'm so sorry about yesterday. The reason I called is that I found out who Cecilia was seeing on the side.”

“Ooh. Who?”

“Alejandro Bastidas.”

She gasped. “Oh, no! I didn't know he'd hit on her, too. That's shameful.”

“Sounds like your customer wasn't the only one. But, maybe she was the only one who had a problem with it.”

“I should report him to the Better Business Bureau,” she said exasperatedly.

“Could you hold off on that for a bit?” I asked. “I want to meet with him, and I figure the easiest way is to pretend I'm a potential customer. Can I just walk into his office and demand a meeting, or do I need a referral or something?”

“With new clients, he normally makes house calls. That way he can look at the space he's going to be working with.”

“Oh. Well, I don't have a ‘space' for him to work with. Now what?”

“I don't know, maybe leave the investigating to the police?”

I winced. “Ouch. I probably deserved that one.”

“Oh, Juliet, I'm sorry. I think I'm still on edge. I had a rude client call me this morning and berate me for the wallpaper she chose being on back order. And it's for a place her family only uses a few weeks out of the year when her husband is in town on business. This woman has more money than sense
or
manners.”

Savannah usually didn't get ruffled over demanding clients. This was definitely leftover angst from last night. As she was telling me her woes, though, a plan started formulating in my head.

I said tentatively, “I'm sorry you're having a rough day. Um, I hate to ask, but would you maybe do another teensy favor for me?”

She let me sweat a moment before answering. “Is it something I could get arrested for?”

“No, I don't think so.” At least not if I didn't rat her out if I was caught.

“Okay, shoot.”

“Do you have many clients who aren't currently living in the houses you're decorating for them?”

“I have a few. Why do you ask?” She sounded suspicious, but who could blame her?

“Well, I thought maybe I could…borrow one of their houses for a while so I'd have a yard for Bastidas to come out to see.”

There was silence on the other end.

“Are you still there?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“So will you help me?”

“No.”

“Please? I need to talk to this guy. Pete's really having a hard time with the murder charge looming over his head.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “Well, in that case…”

“You'll do it?”

She hesitated. “Well…okay.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I'm working on a new construction in Brentwood for one of my clients. I could let you in there, and you could pretend to be the owner. They're from out of town, so no one knows them.”

I exclaimed, “That's perfect!”

“I'll warn you, though—it's not easy to get an appointment with him. But, if you tell him you want to spend a half million on landscaping, he'll probably come running.”

“A half million
dollars
? Damn.”

“It'll certainly get his attention. Just call his office and say Abigail referred you. Oh, and please don't mention me. He won't give you the time of day.”

“Got it. Perfect. Thanks, Savannah. Hey, what's my name and address?”

She replied, “Rosalie Ballard, 365 Silver Lake Drive. Let me know when you're meeting him, and I'll come early and let you in the house. And be careful, please.”

“I will.”

After hanging up with Savannah, I blocked the outgoing caller ID on my phone so I could call Bastidas Enterprises incognito. In my best snooty rich lady voice, I gave my spiel to Bastidas's guard-dog secretary, who obstinately insisted on penciling me in for next month until I mentioned the five hundred grand. In under a minute, I had an appointment scheduled for this afternoon.

“One o'clock would be perfect. It was so kind of you to find the time to fit me in,” I said sweetly before ending the call.

I sent Savannah a quick text with the meeting time.

“Who were you talking to?”

Nearly jumping out of my seat, I turned around to find Ryder standing behind me. “My gynecologist,” I retorted.

His eyes bulged out. “Never mind. Sorry I asked.” He looked around at the empty room. “I see you're here hanging out with all of your friends.”

“Ooh, you're witty this morning,” I said, getting up.

He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me close to him. “I take it you're still mad about yesterday.” He kissed my neck.

Never able to concentrate too well when he did that, I murmured, “Maybe.”

Grinning at me, he said, “You do know that you don't have a free pass to break the law just because I'm your boyfriend, right?”

The only thing I heard in that sentence was “boyfriend.”

“You said the b-word.”

“I did. Is that okay with you?”

I felt a giddy flutter inside, but covered it by giving him an exaggerated shrug. “I guess…I mean, I did just break up with Stan Hollingsworth for you.”

Frowning, he said, “You got right on that, didn't you?”

I smiled up at him. “I wanted to keep my options open.”

Ryder leaned down and kissed me, making me forget all of my troubles.

“Damn it, you two. People have to eat in here, you know,” a gravelly old voice said from beside us.

We broke our kiss, and Ryder joked, “You want one, too, Gertie? Get over here.”

Removing her old lady rain bonnet, she blushed. “Hell's bells. I'd probably have a heart attack. Maybe next time.”

“Can I get you two some coffee?” I asked, getting back into work mode.

“Yes,” they said together, heading for their regular stools at the counter. I thought they both looked a little tired this morning, so I poured them each a big cup.