Mug Shot (7 page)

Once Pete had set his glass down, I pointed out, “Pete, you do realize that you have the oldest motive in the book for murder, right?”

“No shit.”

“So answer me this—Cole said last night Cecilia was groping you before he and Shane left. How did she segue from that to telling you she was knocked up by some other dude?”

“I don't know. The whole thing was weird. First she seduces me—”

“In our tent?” I asked, appalled.

He raised his eyebrows at me. “I'm a guy. It's not like I'm going to say no.”

“Fast-forward to after the part I don't want to hear about.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “Fine. Afterward, she starts crying and apologizing for leading me on. She says we need to break up.”

“That's nuts, even for a Hollingsworth.”

“True. So I call her out on why in the hell she would jump on me, only to break up with me a few minutes later. Then she starts in on how her hormones are all haywire, and she admits she's pregnant.”

“Wow. I bet you freaked out.”

“No, I got angry, because I always use protection…except maybe for last night, but that was a total fluke.”

I groaned. “You're bordering on too much information again.”

He ignored me, concentrating on a spot on the floor. “She told me…that I didn't excite her any longer and that she had found someone who did. She said that he wasn't exactly her type, but he made her feel alive.” His expression was so sad and defeated.

Cecilia was a fool. I didn't understand how she could say that Pete didn't excite her and make her feel more alive than any other man on the planet. Everywhere he went, his infectious personality lit up everyone around him.

“I always thought she was a robot and didn't care about that stuff.”

He shrugged. “We were happy once.”

My heart hurt for him. “So who's the other guy?”

“She didn't tell me his name. Just that she wanted to try to make a go of it with him since she was carrying his child.”

“Did he know she was pregnant?”

“I don't know. I didn't stick around long enough to find out. I yelled at her a little, and then I left.”

“Then where did you go?”

“Home.”

It was my turn to pace the room. As I listened to Pete's story, I tried to put together all of the facts, and as they came together, I felt more and more apprehensive. After a minute or two, I stopped and said, “So let me put this in a nutshell. You, Cecilia's boyfriend, found out that Cecilia was cheating on you and pregnant with another man's child. The two of you had a loud fight about it, in the exact spot where she was murdered. And you happened to have unprotected sex with Cecilia, the murder victim, in the same general time frame, which was right around the time frame that the coroner says she died. You then went home, alone, where no one could verify your whereabouts. The murder scene is in a tent you own, and your fingerprints are on pretty much everything inside. Did I miss anything?”

His eyes widened. “Shit. I'm going to take the fall for this, aren't I?”

I rubbed my throbbing forehead with my hand. “I think it's time to lawyer up. How much of this did you tell the police?”

“Not a lot. I was in a bad place earlier, and Cromwell didn't press me about too many details.” He smiled weakly at me. “He said you told him I didn't do it, so he was giving me the benefit of the doubt.”

“Really?” I couldn't believe Cromwell would take my word for anything.

Pete came over to stand in front of me. “He said you went to bat for me. Thanks, Jules.” He hugged me tightly. “Now will you do something else for me?”

“Anything.”

He took a step away from me and winced. “You might want to take that back when I tell you what it is.”

“Try me.”

“Will you go to Delta Hollingsworth's house with me so I can give her my condolences?”

My face fell. “Is that a freaking joke?”

“I told you that you might want to take your offer back.”

“Can I stay in the car?” I whined.

“No, you're Stan's girl, so you need to pay your respects, too. You have to use your manners here in the South.”

“I barely know his mother. And don't call me Stan's ‘girl.' ”

“Why? Did you finally come to your senses and break up with him?”

“There's nothing to break up. You know we're not serious.” I hesitated, hating to further ruin Pete's already bad opinion of Stan, but interested to hear Pete's take on the situation. “Speaking of Stan, something feels off about him. I can't put my finger on it. Did I tell you how weird he acted earlier?”

“No.”

“Well, he acted weird. Like totally unemotional about his sister's death. It surprised me and kind of bothered me.”

Pete shrugged. “He probably did it.”

That was not what I wanted to hear. “I wouldn't go that far. Anyway, let's get this ‘paying my respects' bullshit over with. But if Delta shoots me on sight, I'm blaming you.”

When we pulled up to Delta Hollingsworth's estate, I started feeling queasy. She probably wouldn't take kindly to me barging into her home. After all, as Stan so kindly put it, the woman despised me. Stan's sports car was parked out front, so he was there, too. I wondered if the shock had worn off and he was beginning to deal with his sister's death. Not that I wished for him to be upset, but I hoped he had snapped out of his apparent disinterest at least.

I said imploringly to Pete, “Are you sure I can't sit out here and keep the car running for you?”

“No, just do this and you'll be done. Then maybe you won't even have to go to the funeral. That is, unless you want to go, to keep your best pal company.”

“I hate you right now.”

“I know.”

Stan answered the door, his face set in a scowl. “What do you want?” he snapped at Pete.

“We came over to give your family our sympathies. Is Delta home?” Pete asked.

“Are you sure you didn't come over to give us your
apologies,
Pete?” he replied icily. I did not care for his tone or his implication.

Pete stood straighter and clenched his fists. “You trying to say something, Stan?” Even though Pete wasn't a fighter, he fancied himself one. He had developed some decent muscles through his boxing lessons, and could easily take Stan in a fight. But I couldn't imagine Stan letting it get to that point—he was kind of a sissy.

“No,” Stan replied quickly, taking a step back to let us through the door. I called that one. “Juliet,” he said sweetly, putting his arm around my waist. “How nice of you to visit my family. Come with me.”

Stan's abrupt turnaround in attitude did nothing to calm my worries about him, but really, I should have been giving him the benefit of the doubt. He'd just lost his sister, and he probably didn't have a clue how to deal with it. As a good friend, or whatever I was to him, I should have been trying to be more sympathetic, not more suspicious. I put my arm around him.

Stan showed us into a ridiculously overdecorated living room, where Delta was reclining on a pink silk upholstered sofa, one hand flung over her eyes and the other holding an empty glass. Abigail was sitting in a nearby chair, and, quite frankly, she looked stoned.

Letting me go and walking over to stand near his mother, Stan said hopefully, “Look, Mother. Juliet has come to give her condolences for Cecilia.” His voice turned disdainful as he added, “And she brought Pete along.”

Delta didn't remove her hand from her eyes. She cried drunkenly, “Stanley? Stanley! Is that Yankee whore of yours in my house?”

I sighed and glared at Pete. Leaning over to him, I whispered, “I'm so glad you convinced me to come here with you.”

“In hindsight, it may not have been one of my better ideas,” he replied under his breath.

“You think?” Taking a few steps toward Stan's mother, I said stiffly, “I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Hollingsworth. Cecilia was a beautiful woman and a very talented musician. I very much admired her charity work.” She probably didn't hear me, since she was still rambling about Yankees and whores. Stan didn't bother to defend my honor. I approached Abigail, who was oblivious to the whole thing, fixated blindly on a spot over my shoulder. “Abigail, I'm so sorry about your sister. I know the two of you were close. And I hope you're feeling better from your accident.” She stared at me blankly and didn't respond. I'd had enough. “The Yankee whore is out,” I muttered to Pete as I passed him on my way to go stand by the window, beyond throwing range should Delta decide to chuck her glass at me.

Pete went over to Delta and knelt down beside her. “Delta,” he began tentatively.

She took her hand off her eyes and tried to focus on him. “Pete, dear? I thought Stanley said you were in jail.”

“I said he
should
be in jail,” Stan clarified, looking smugly at Pete.

“No, Delta, I came over to give you my condolences. I loved your daughter, and it's hard to think about life without her. I'm so sorry for your family's loss. I know how much you must be hurting. If there's anything I can do for you, please don't hesitate to call me.”

“How nice. You always were such a nice boy. You have Cecilia bring you by for my holiday party.”

Huh? Did she not realize that Cecilia was dead? I caught Stan's eye and gave him a questioning look. He made a drinking motion with his hand. Maybe Delta was so bombed that she blocked out that information. As much as I disliked her, I felt for her—I couldn't imagine the pain of losing a child.

Pete said uncertainly to Delta, “Yes, I'll have to do that.”

She peered around and whispered loudly, “And make sure not to let Stanley bring that Yankee whore of his.”

Seriously?
“Pete,”
I said pointedly, tapping my watch.

He shot me a rueful look over his shoulder. Getting up, he moved over to stand in front of Abigail. “Abigail, I'm so sorry. You two were so close…I can't imagine what you're going through right now. You know I'm here for you if you need anything.” Abigail flicked her eyes at him while he was speaking, but when he finished, she returned to staring at the wall. He stepped back and said awkwardly, “Well, we're going…”

Delta had gone back to her original pose, Abigail hadn't moved, and Stan was glaring at Pete again. I was so ready to get the hell out of this house. I took off for the front door. Before I could get out, Stan caught me by the arm, stopping me in the foyer.

He smiled at me hopefully. “Are we still on for the ball tonight?”

Hesitating, I replied, “Um…yes, we are, only I'm not going to be such a great date. Savannah wants me to help her with some behind-the-scenes stuff. She needs me to be there early, so she's going to pick me up. Will it be okay to meet you there?”

His smile faltered a little, but he didn't complain. “I'm happy you're going to help her in Cecilia's absence. I look forward to seeing you there.”

It irked me how stiff Stan was sometimes. And to use the term “Cecilia's absence”? It sounded like she had the flu or was on vacation or something. I had never seen family members react so strangely and indifferently to a death of one of their own. Then again, the Hollingsworths weren't your typical family.

Feeling sorry for Stan, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek just as Pete came by, ushering me out the door. Stan followed him outside, his face angry again.

“You won't get away with this, you know,” Stan sneered.

“What the hell, man?” Pete replied, wheeling around. “I didn't kill Cecilia, and you need to quit insinuating that I did.”

“You were with her right before she died!”

“Whoa,” I said, getting a bad feeling in my gut. “How do you know that, Stan?”

“I saw him.” He pointed a finger in Pete's face. “I heard arguing, and then I saw you coming out of that tent!”

Pete pushed Stan's hand away. “That would mean you were there, too, genius. How do I know
you
didn't kill her? Tell me something, Stan—who inherits Hollingsworth Industries with Cecilia gone?”

Stan's only response was, “Get off my mother's property. Now.”

Smirking, Pete headed toward his car. I hurried after him, but before we could get there, we were ambushed by Don Wolfe.

“Hey, Juliet. Long time no see,” he drawled.

I blew out a disgusted breath. “You again? What now?”

“I thought I'd come over and get the family's thoughts on the tragic loss of dear Cecilia,” he said, faking a concerned smile.

Pete turned on him, and I managed just in time to keep his fist from connecting with Wolfe's stupid face. Clinging to Pete's arm with both hands, I said, “He's not worth an assault charge.”

Wolfe interjected, “That never stopped you from kneeing me in the balls.”

I did have a habit of taking my aggression toward Wolfe out on his man parts. “I don't know what you're talking about. Those were accidents,” I replied innocently. “Let's go, Pete.” I steered Pete, who was fuming mad, back to his car.

He threw himself into the driver's seat, started the engine, and zoomed away. “Is everyone in this town insane?” he asked, disgusted.

“Wolfe is a creep. You know what he did to me last time. I'm sure he's not going to rest until he gets his story.”

He shook his head. “And Stan. Can you believe that guy? In trying to point the finger at me, he admitted that he was also at the park around the time Cecilia died. Dumbass.”

“Yeah, he's not reacting at all like I thought he would. Besides getting in your face, he seems so detached about what happened to Cecilia. He's all raring to go to the ball tonight. But…maybe getting angry and cutting his other emotions off is the way he's choosing to deal with it.”

Glancing over at me worriedly, he said, “Would you quit defending that idiot?”

“No one else is going to. I hate to turn my back on him.”

“It's better than ending up his next victim.”

“Pete,” I said hesitantly. Although I was afraid I already knew the answer, I asked, “Um, who does inherit Hollingsworth Industries now?”

His mouth formed a grim line. “Guess.”

“Oh.”

“
Now
do you think it's time you stay the hell away from him?”

The nagging feeling I'd had about Stan definitely intensified after finding out about his soon-to-be-acquired inheritance. “That won't actually be a problem since Savannah has me working tonight.” I added gently, “I take it you're not going to the ball.”

Shaking his head, he said, “You know, even though I was considering breaking up with Cecilia, I still cared about her. And I may act tough, but this whole thing has me more upset than I'm letting on.” He wiped a hand down his face. “It's a lot to process.”

I reached over and patted his knee. “I know. And I'm here for you. Except for later when I'm ditching you to go to the ball.” I looked at my watch. “Ooh. Make that when I'm ditching you now to go home and get ready for the ball.”

Pete looked miserable. He asked forlornly, “You have to start getting ready now?”

“Savannah's picking me up early so I can help her put the finishing touches on the ballroom.” He was still pouting, so I offered, “You're welcome to come over and hang out while I get ready, if you want to. I'll probably need help zipping up my dress.”

He shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” Pete was really in a bad place if he wasn't even remotely interested in the possibility of getting a glimpse of some side boob.

While I showered and got ready, Pete sat on my new couch and played the guitar he had given me for my birthday. It was a beauty, and he could make it sound amazing. I could play chords well enough to sing along, but Pete could really
play
. Not surprisingly, his song choices today were all depressing and in minor keys that somehow sounded even sadder than normal, like his emotions were pouring out of his fingers and onto the strings. He didn't seem to want to talk much, so I didn't press him.

Once my hair and makeup were done, I was ready to put on my ball gown. It wasn't mine exactly—Savannah had talked one of her friends into letting me borrow it. Evidently it was a “last season” style, and her friend couldn't be caught dead in it this year. Whatever. I didn't care. It was the most beautiful dress I'd ever seen. It was a stunning emerald green ball gown, fitted to the hips, the bodice tastefully adorned with a spray of rosettes made out of the same silky fabric as the dress. The skirt was my favorite part—it was a pick-up style with a rhinestone holding each tuck point, with a slit on one side to show a little leg. I felt like a princess.

The act of wrestling myself into the dress had made me break out in a sweat. I tried desperately to get the thing zipped, but damned if I didn't need help. Sighing, I opened my bedroom door and shuffled out to Pete.

He looked up at me, and his eyes nearly bulged out of his head. “Jules, you look…”

A slow smile spread across my face. “Ooh, I must look good. Pete Bennett's never speechless.”

“You're breathtaking,” he said, standing up and stepping toward me. His eyes held mine, unblinking. I felt my heartbeat quicken slightly.

Trying to appear calm, I said, “Thanks. Can you help me with the zipper?” I turned around, and he slowly zipped up my dress. When his fingers brushed against my bare back, goosebumps erupted over my entire body. I jumped away from him quickly. Considering his delicate state of mind, I didn't feel right about allowing this to turn into one of our awkward, too-friendly moments, so I hurried back to my room to search for my shoes.

My phone rang, and it was Savannah. “I'm outside your apartment, girlie. Let's get this show on the road.”

“Be right down,” I replied.

I found my shoes and headed for the door. As I passed my desk, my eyes caught a sparkle from the bracelet Stan had given me. The green inset stones matched my dress so perfectly, I couldn't resist placing it on my wrist even though I had mixed feelings about the gift as well as the giver.

When I returned to my living room, I said to Pete, “My ride's here. Are you sure you'll be okay by yourself?”

He tried to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. “I'll be fine.”

Studying his face for a moment, I said, “Maybe I shouldn't go. I'll just let Savannah know—”

He stopped me. “No, you're going. After the day you've had, you deserve a little fun.”

I smiled. “Thanks, but you know, it's probably not going to be that much fun. I'm pretty convinced that Savannah will be a slave driver, and when I'm not working, I'll be hanging with Stan.”

“Or avoiding him.”

I hated to flat-out ignore Stan, especially after what he'd had to deal with today, but I didn't want to get into it with Pete right now. “Either way, it should be one hell of an evening.” I put my hand on his cheek and added gently, “Call me if you need me.”