Mug Shot (21 page)

He shifted next to me and didn't meet my eyes. “I'm probably not supposed to be talking about this with you.”

“I'll take that as a no.” I smirked. “Too bad we aren't supposed to be talking about it, because someone in this room knows the answer…”

Ryder sat up so he could glare at me better. “What did you do?”

“It's called gossip, Detective. Sometimes you guys should supplement your precious evidence with some real-world facts.”

“Last time I checked, gossip and facts aren't the same thing.”

“True, but when verification comes from the horse's mouth, it's no longer gossip.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Only you could turn pillow talk into a nightmare.”

I chose to let that one slide and put poor Ryder out of his misery. “His name is Alejandro Bastidas. He owns Bastidas Enterprises, a landscape architecture firm. He and Cecilia met this summer when he redesigned her landscaping. Evidently, she was cheating on Pete for a good while.”

“Okay, thanks for the info. I'm not even going to ask how you got a perfect stranger to admit that he fathered a dead woman's child.”

“It's probably best you don't.”

I woke up with an odd feeling that someone was watching me. Looking over at Ryder, I realized it was because someone
was
watching me. He had an extremely concerned look on his face.

“What?” I asked. “You're freaking me out.”

He tried to smile, but failed. “Sorry. It's just that…your face is severely bruised this morning.”

I lifted my head off the pillow, and a shooting pain coursed up my jaw and into my temple. “Ow,” I complained, gently lowering my head back down.

“Maybe you should stay home from work today,” he said uneasily.

“Can't. I have a ton of cookie dough to make for Savannah's holiday party tomorrow. You're still meeting me there, right?”

He gingerly kissed my forehead. “Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay in instead? I'll get us some takeout, and we can sit on the couch and watch horrible movies.”

I did enjoy doing that with him. “No, I promised Savannah. And besides, I'd like to go. She throws out-of-this-world fancy parties.”

Twirling a strand of my hair around his finger, he said, “But I thought you didn't like fancy stuff.”

“It's fun to be girly and dress up every once in a while.”

He frowned. “Did dating that prick Stan Hollingsworth rub off on you?”

“It really bothers you that I dated him, doesn't it?” I asked, trying a second time to get up and out of bed. I powered through the pain this time and walked into Ryder's bathroom to assess the damage.

I took one look in the mirror and said, “Holy crap, that's a huge bruise.”

Ryder appeared behind me, resting his hands comfortingly on my shoulders. “Like you said, you can put some makeup on it.”

I had a deep reddish-purple bruise the size of the back of Kent's meaty palm on my cheek, and there was noticeable swelling. He must have clocked me good. My face had hurt last night, but at that point I had been more freaked out by my broken finger, which felt better this morning even though it was also very swollen and bruised.

“It's going to take an inch of makeup to cover that sucker up,” I said, wondering if it was even worth it to bother.

He turned me around to face him. “You're still just as beautiful as ever.”

Wrinkling my nose at him, I said, “I'm not upset by how I look. I'm more pissed about my finger. Do you know how much of a hassle it's going to be to do my job, much less make ten dozen cookies, with this stupid broken finger? I'd rather that he'd hit me in the face again.”

Smiling, he shook his head. “That's my girl. Any other woman wouldn't go out in public with that on her face.”

I shrugged. “I don't care. I'm not the one who has to look at it.”

When I got to Java Jive, Pete was already there, getting the place ready to open. He took one look at my face and his jaw dropped.

“Jules, you look awful this morning!”

“Thank you,” I said crossly. I tried with my makeup, but it wasn't covering, so I gave up.

He came over and gave me a gentle punch on the arm. “I'm sorry. You know I didn't mean it like that.” Examining my face up close, he said, “That's one hell of a bruise you've got going on.”

“No shit. My whole face hurts.”

“Why don't you go home and leave everything to me and the staff? You've hardly taken a day off since you started working here.”

I smiled. “Thanks, but you know I would never agree to that.” Not only did I want to oversee the preparation of the cookie dough, I also wanted to be with Pete today. Cecilia's funeral was this morning. Even though he needed closure, he had decided it was best to stay away, not wanting his presence there to cause a scene. I continued, “This is Savannah's holiday extravaganza, not a tailgate party. These cookies have to be perfect
and
delicious.”

“I didn't figure you'd say yes. Let's get this show on the road.”

Pete and I got to work on the cookie dough. We made double batches, so we would only have to go through the dough-making process three times.

Brandon and Rhonda were the only ones scheduled to work this morning. Brandon didn't say anything about my face or my finger, but of course Rhonda opened her big fat mouth the moment I came out front to see how business was going.

“Ooh, Juliet. What happened to you? You're not looking so good this morning,” she said, smirking at me.

Gertie was the only customer here. I noticed her shift uncomfortably in her seat when she glanced at me. I wondered how much Pete had told her.

I replied simply, “I fell. Thanks for your concern, Rhonda.” Turning to Gertie, I asked, “Did you and Pete have a good horror movie date last night, Gertie?”

She looked sharply at me. “Don't change the subject, young lady. Are you really okay? Any other injuries you're not telling us about?”

“Thanks for being concerned about me, but I'm fine. It's just my finger and my jaw. Trust me, it looks much worse than it feels.” That was a total lie, but I didn't want her to worry.

Gertie didn't seem convinced. She knew me well. “Please be more careful.”

“I will.”

Rhonda, lazy ass that she was, was reading the newspaper again. I didn't even bother saying anything, figuring I'd be wasting my breath. She was reading the
Nashville Gazette
, Don Wolfe's newspaper, which featured an inflammatory article on the front page about Pete. Angered, I stalked into the kitchen and grabbed Pete, dragging him with me into the office.

“Has Don Wolfe been bothering you again?”

Pete looked away. “A little.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“What could you do? It's not like he's going to stop, no matter what you say to him.”

“Damn it! Nothing he's printing is even true. You'd think he should get locked up for that.” I threw one of the couch cushions across the room in frustration. “Someone besides you needs to go down for a crime around here! The police aren't doing jack shit about Kent assaulting me or about finding Cecilia's real killer. I don't know what to do. I've tried reasoning with the cops, and I've tried laying evidence at their feet. Nothing is getting through.” While I was talking, my eyes started stinging with angry tears.

Pete's shoulders slumped. “I'm sorry, Jules. I know you're only doing this for me, but it kills me that it's consuming you like this. I want the old Jules back.”

“Well, I want the old Pete back, too. The one whose only care in the world is whether or not his jokes will make me laugh.”

He stared at the floor. “That guy isn't coming back.”

I sighed. “Our life really sucks.”

That got a rueful chuckle out of him. “Yep. You said it.”

We got all of the cookie dough made well before lunchtime. Pete and I were sitting on the couch in the front of the house, taking a much-deserved break, when Ryder came in. He leaned down and gave me a quick kiss before dropping into the chair across from us.

“How's your face?” he asked.

“The same. I have a killer headache.” I looked at Pete. “Pardon the pun.”

Pete groaned and shook his head.

Turning back to Ryder, I asked, “So when is Cromwell going to arrest Kent or that tool Bastidas?”

“You certainly have a single-minded focus. I thought maybe you'd be interested in how my day was going.”

I smiled contritely. “Sorry. And I know I'm totally driving you crazy.”

“If it's any consolation, she's driving me crazy, too,” Pete said.

“Nobody asked you,” I retorted.

“That sounds like my cue to leave,” he said, jumping up and heading for the back.

Ryder took Pete's seat next to me and grabbed my good hand. “Anything else bugging you besides the usual?”

“No, it's just that I feel like I should be doing
something
to try to clear Pete's name. I can't just sit around and do nothing, waiting for the day he gets thrown in prison forever.”

“Even though you may not believe this, Cromwell is taking your information seriously. He's following up on everything you told me about Kent Fielding and Alejandro Bastidas. It takes time. He wants to make sure he has the right suspect just as much as you do.”

I squeezed his hand. “I'll
try
to dial it down. No promises, though.”

“Good. Now will you get me some lunch, waitress? I have to get back to work.”

I jerked my hand away. “Waitress? Really, pig? Because I thought we were having a nice conversation here.”

“You are
very
tense.”

“Telling a woman she's tense does not help her to
be
less tense. I don't know why men don't get that.”

He leaned over and gave me a lingering kiss. “There. Is that better?”

“I'm thinking you could have done that in the first place.”

After Ryder left, I went back to the kitchen to fix my own lunch. Pete was there, putting the finishing touches on a waffle taco.

“Two waffle tacos in one week? I can practically see your arteries hardening from here,” I joked.

“I've had a rough week.”

I went over and gave him a one-armed hug. “I know. And I'm sure my never-ending quest to find the real killer isn't helping.”

“Not really, but I appreciate—”

The kitchen door opened suddenly and two uniformed police officers marched in.

“Pete Bennett,” one of them barked.

Pete got very still. “Yes, that's me.”

“An assault charge has been filed against you, which violates the terms and conditions of your bail. You're going to have to come with us,” the officer replied.

“What?” he asked, dumbfounded. “What assault charge?”

“We're only here to take you into custody, sir. Your lawyer should contact the criminal court clerk for further information. Please place your hands behind your back.”

I was so blown away that I didn't do anything but watch helplessly as the cops cuffed Pete and started to drag him out of the kitchen. Once I found my voice, I cried, “Pete, I'm going to fix this! I'll get your lawyer, and we'll do whatever we need to in order to get you out of there. I promise.”

I followed them from the kitchen, trying desperately to hold it together so Pete wouldn't see me lose it. However, when he turned and looked at me as they shoved him through the front door, I broke down into tears and crashed to my knees.

“Um, Juliet?” Rhonda asked tentatively. “Can we do anything to help?”

It was time to put on my big girl panties and do what needed to be done to help Pete. I got up off the floor and wiped my face. “Thank you, Rhonda. After you and Brandon get the place cleaned up from lunch, you guys can close up and go home. I won't be back today.”

“Okay. Um…good luck,” she replied.

On my way to my car, I called Pete's lawyer. He agreed to meet me at the court building downtown so we could get to the bottom of this. I, however, had a stop to make on the way.

After an excruciatingly slow drive downtown in lunchtime traffic, I burst through the front door of the police station and came face-to-face with the same officer who had been at the desk the night Pete got hauled in the first time. Damn. I hoped he wouldn't recognize me without my ball gown.

Having learned my lesson from a few days ago, I very nicely said to him, “May I please speak to Detective Hamilton? Would you tell him that Juliet Langley is here to see him?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Don't I know you?”

I sighed. “Yes, I was the one you tossed in the drunk tank the other night for throwing a fit in here. I'm really trying to be nice this time, though. Can you please call him?” As I was talking, one tear escaped from my eye and ran down my face.

Seeming to be taken aback, he smiled hesitantly and replied, “Sure, I'll give him a call.”

I paced around while Ryder took his sweet time getting down here. Once he came into the lobby, I cried, “Two cops came and took Pete away! They said something about an assault and that he violated his bail, and they just…just took him away!” I dissolved into tears, again.

He came over and gave me a hug. “I know. I'm so sorry.”

“Is this some kind of mistake?”

“We need to talk about this privately.” He steered me outside and down the sidewalk to my car. After we got in, he explained, “Alejandro Bastidas filed an assault charge against Pete.”

“What?” I exploded.

“Any participation in a physical altercation is enough cause to revoke Pete's bail. Evidently the two of them got in a little scuffle last night at Sinclair's. Know anything about that?”

My body went cold. Pete and I were both in big trouble, but there had to be a way to get out of it. I ignored his question. “Wait a minute. How come Bastidas gets to file charges against Pete, but supposedly nothing can be done about Kent Fielding beating the shit out of me?”

He shook his head. “I agree, it's not fair. The difference is that there's video surveillance footage of Pete hitting him and there are several credible witnesses. Normally, the assault charge itself wouldn't have been much more than a slap on the wrist for Pete. However, since he's out on bail, it's a big deal.”

This was all my fault. I got Pete sent back to jail. If I hadn't dragged Pete there with me, or even if I hadn't provoked Bastidas into grabbing me, none of this would have happened. I put my head in my hands.

Ryder cleared his throat. “Were you going to tell me you had a date with a possible murder suspect last night?”

Through my hands, I said in a muffled voice, “Not if I could help it.”

“I told you doing your own investigating was going to bite you in the ass. And now it has.”

Suddenly I felt nauseous and dizzy. The fight between Pete and Bastidas played over and over in my head as the horror of what I'd done sank in. I raised my head, whispering brokenly, “I…I didn't think this would happen. I screwed up. I admit it. And I promise never to meddle in anything ever again if you'll do this one thing for me.”

“What's that?” he asked warily.

“Is there
anything
you can do to keep Pete out of jail?”

He sighed. “No.”

“You can't…or you won't?”

“I…both. I don't think there's anything I can do to help him, and frankly, I'm not going to put my career at risk by causing problems for the homicide detectives. He's on his own now.”

“What? You won't even try? But you think he's innocent!” I cried.

“He's not innocent of getting in a fight and violating the terms of his bail. There's video proof. It's fair that he goes back to jail. That's why we have a justice system.”

“How can you say that? It's so cold. It's like you don't even care.”

He had been calm, but he was starting to get agitated. “Maybe you care too much, Juliet. Pete is an adult, and he needs to fight his own battles.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. “Why? Isn't that what friends are for—to help each other through the tough times?”

“What you've put yourself through for him is way beyond friendship. It's too far.”

“But he's my best friend. I'd do anything for him.”

Ryder's eyes got hard. “That's the problem. You'll do anything for him. That's not just being a friend. Want to know what I think? I think you love him.”

My mouth dropped open. I couldn't believe he was calling me out like that, and I didn't have a good comeback at all.

He continued on his rant. “You know what else? I think you intentionally wreck all of your other relationships because you're holding out for him.”

“I do
not
! You've always been jealous of our friendship.”

“What you two have is
not
friendship. It's co-dependence.” He shook his head. “I don't know why I'm even bothering. You're never going to let me in.”

“Then
don't
bother. Ever. Get out of my car!”

“Gladly,” he growled, getting out and slamming the door.

I sat there shaking uncontrollably, trying to pull myself together. I felt like everything I had was slipping right through my fingers, and there wasn't a damn thing I could do about any of it. I honestly cared about Ryder, and I considered going after him. But after what we'd both just said, our relationship was over, again. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to erase the memory of how cold and angry his expression had been. When I laid my head back against my seat and opened my eyes, I caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview mirror. Angrily, I slammed my hand against it, tilting it at a crazy angle, unable to even look at myself anymore. I had lost the two men I cared about most, and I had brought every bit of it on myself.