Mug Shot (9 page)

“Yeah.”

“Does he think the police have a decent case against you?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn it!” Lowering my voice, I said, “I'm getting you out of here.”

“My bail hearing isn't until Monday.”

I whispered, “No, I mean I'm going to prove that someone else did this and clear your name.”

“Juliet,” Pete warned quietly. “You heard what Cromwell said. If he even thinks you're meddling again, he'll lock you up and throw away the key.”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “He's bluffing.”

“I don't care. You're not doing this. It's too dangerous. And you're a terrible detective.”

“Hey! I won't make the same mistakes again.” I added in a whisper, “You know I'm going to do it anyway, so don't waste your breath.”

He tightened his grip on my hands, and I could see the panic in his eyes. “Please, Jules, I'm stuck in here, and I don't want to have to be worrying about what you're doing. I have enough to worry about in here. Go live your life. Don't worry about me.”

Tears escaped from my eyes before I could stop them. “Pete, you
are
my life. Without you, it's not worth living.”

His eyes filling with tears, he said, “Don't. I gotta keep it together. Don't cry on me, Jules. I won't be able to stand it.”

Wiping my eyes, I said, “Sorry. It's been a long day.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “I need you to break the news to Gertie. This is going to damn near kill her.”

My heart sank. Gertie. I had completely forgotten about her. “It's late. I'll go see her first thing tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Jules. I'm so sorry to be putting you through this.”

“Me? Don't you worry about me. You focus on staying strong.” I patted his hand and smiled through my tears. “And don't bend over in the shower.”

He chuckled. “Yeah. I'll make sure of that.”

The door opened, and Cromwell stuck his head in. “Time's up.”

I leaned over the table and gave Pete a kiss on the cheek, whispering, “I
will
get you out of here.”

He gave my hands a final squeeze as Cromwell removed the shackles and replaced his handcuffs. I kept a brave face on until they were out the door, only to collapse onto the table and weep.

The door opened and closed again. I felt a hand on my shoulder. When I raised my head up, I saw Ryder, his face sympathetic.

He said kindly, “Don't worry about him just yet. His arraignment isn't until Monday, so he'll stay here until then. He's in a cell by himself, so the worst thing that could possibly happen to him is that he has to take a dump in front of someone. He'll be fine.”

I wiped my eyes. “That's disgusting.”

“He's safe, and I can keep an eye on him here.”

“Are you trying to convince me it's not so bad?” I asked uncertainly.

“As far as jail goes, he has the best case scenario right now. Come on, would I lie to you?”

I raised one eyebrow at him dubiously.

He laughed. “Hey, let's get out of here. I'll buy you a cup of coffee or something.”

“That would be great. Thanks.” I really didn't want to go home to my empty apartment.

Ryder steered me back through the station and into the lobby, where the bulk of my problems tonight had started. I very studiously ignored the cop on duty I had pissed off earlier.

Once we were outside, Ryder asked, “Where are you parked?”

I shivered in the cold air. I had left my coat at the banquet hall in my haste to get to the police station. “At home,” I said, nearly forgetting how I got here. “I cabbed it over from the gala.”

Ryder put his jacket around my shoulders and pointed me toward his car. “You'd better watch it. You're starting to talk like your rich prick friends.”

“They're not all bad.”

“I assume your boy Stan took you to the gala,” he grumbled.

“No, Savannah and her husband did. Happy now?”

He opened the passenger door for me and helped me stuff my fluffy skirt into his car. “Maybe.” He got in and drove us away from downtown.

“Does wherever you're taking me have food? I haven't eaten since…yesterday, I guess.”

He glanced over at me. “How do you go an entire day without eating?”

“Well, let's see. I was counting on having a couple of cookies for breakfast once I got to the 5K, but as you know, that didn't happen. Then I got sidetracked by all of the drama and didn't even think about lunch. And right as I was sitting down to eat dinner at the fundraiser, I got the call from Pete saying he was in jail. You know the rest.”

He smirked. “I have to know what you said to Rodgers at the front desk to make him throw you in the zoo.”

“Ryder, come on. I'm not proud of it.”

He stopped at a red light and turned the full force of his smile on me. “Please tell me.”

I could never say no to that smile. “Fine. I dared him to lock me up. And then I called him a pig.”

Laughing, he said, “That'll do it.” He pulled up to an old diner in a not-so-nice part of town. I didn't dare let on my feelings about the neighborhood, because Ryder would have busted me about acting like my rich prick friends again.

As we were walking in, I said, “You know, I probably should have gone home to change first. I look ridiculous.”

“Are you kidding me?” We sat down in a corner booth, and he leaned across the table toward me, ogling my dress. “I've been dying to take you and this dress out on a date ever since I laid eyes on you tonight.”

I hoped I didn't appear as giddy as his comment had made me feel. “I'm sorry, did you say this is a date?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah. Why not?”

There were probably a million reasons why not, but it was difficult for me to think of any of them at the moment. Ryder's smile had me a little mesmerized. “Well, if you're calling it a date, which it isn't, I guess that would make it our first date.”

Furrowing his brow, he said, “Did you forget about the time we went to Mixology?”

I laughed. “No, I went to Mixology with some perv named Seth Davis. And Ryder the PI didn't take me anywhere but to bed.”

“Good point,” he said, his eyes sparkling.

We both ordered burgers and fries, and they were heavenly. He kept watching me while I ate, and I finally couldn't handle it anymore. “What? Why are you staring at me? Do I have ketchup on my face or something?”

“It's sexy to watch a woman in a ball gown go to town on a greasy diner burger.”

“Really?” I asked, wiping my mouth self-consciously. “Because it sounds like you're feeding me a line.”

“That hurts, babe.”

Something had been nagging at me since we left the precinct. I was trying to put it out of my mind, but I couldn't quite let it go. I put my burger down and asked, “Ryder? I know you said not to worry about it, but I need to know something. What happens to Pete after his arraignment?”

“You know, part of the reason why I wanted to take you out was to get your mind
off
your worrying.”

“And I thought it was the dress.”

“Are you sure you want all the gory details?” he asked hesitantly.

I nodded.

“Okay. Here goes. At the arraignment, he will be formally charged with murder, and bail could be set. If the judge decides to grant him bail, and if Pete can pay it, he's home free until the trial. If the judge doesn't grant bail, or if it's too high for Pete to make it, then you can worry. If that happens, they'll transfer him to county, and I can't look after him.”

“That did not make me feel better.”

“I kind of told you so.”

I glared at him.

“What I'm trying to say is, let's not worry about something bad happening until something bad happens.”

I pointed out, “My best friend is in jail for a murder he didn't commit. I'd say that is pretty bad.”

He took my hand. “For what it's worth, I don't think he did it. I saw the look in his eyes this morning, and it was the same look I had after I heard about what happened to my wife.”

“Then why can't you do something to get him released?” I pleaded.

Sighing, he said, “The evidence is stacked against him. Even if it were my case, I'd have to arrest him, no matter what my gut says. That's how it works. They can always find contradictory evidence after the full autopsy is completed, but for now, we have enough to hold him.”

The more I had thought about Stan running to tell the cops about Pete's fight with Cecilia at the park, the angrier I got. My mind also started zeroing in on something Pete had said about Stan being at the park as well, plus the fact that with Cecilia gone, he inherited a gold mine.

I blurted out, “What about Stan?”

“Stan is a douchebag.”

“Yeah, sometimes.” I took a breath, hoping not to come off as callous as I felt for saying this. “I guess I'm asking why the police aren't looking at Stan. Did you know he was also at Centennial Park the night Cecilia was killed?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then why isn't
he
in jail instead of Pete?”

“For being a douchebag hanging out at the park at night?”

I threw a french fry at him. “Did you know he inherits Hollingsworth Industries now that Cecilia is dead?”

His face went serious. “No, I didn't know that.”

“And you call yourself a detective,” I scoffed. That remark got me one of Ryder's trademark glares. “Ooh. Did anyone ever tell you that you're adorable when you get mad?”

He grinned. “I think that's my line.”

“I know. So since Stan had both motive and opportunity—”

“You're using some big detective words there, Scooby.”

Ignoring him, I went on, “I think it's enough reasonable doubt that you could release Pete.”

“Nice try, but that's all circumstantial evidence. If we don't find any of Stan's fingerprints or DNA at the crime scene, or at least something that can place him inside the tent, we don't have a leg to stand on in court.”

“Just because you don't find any physical evidence doesn't mean he or someone else didn't do it. What if the killer wore gloves and a hat? He could have done the deed without leaving anything behind.”

“Have you been watching
CSI
reruns again?” he asked.

I made a face at him.

He relented. “Will it make you feel better if I ask Cromwell to take another look at Stan?”

“Yes.” Well, it would make me feel better about Pete, but I felt a little regret for narcing on Stan. I basically did to him what I got mad about him doing to Pete.

“It's been a long day. Are you ready for me to take you home? You look tired.”

“You really know how to talk to the ladies, don't you?” I asked dryly.

Chuckling, he said, “You know it.” He led me outside and helped me into his car.

When we got to my apartment, Ryder again helped me out of the car. He caught my hand and started walking toward the stairs leading to my apartment.

“And just where do you think you're going?” I asked.

“To your apartment,” he replied innocently.

“Slow your roll, there. I'm not that easy.”

With a mock wounded expression, he said, “Did you think I was trying to get into your pants?”

“Yes.”

“I'm hurt. I was only going to…check your apartment for bad guys. I hear sometimes they hang out there.”

I didn't laugh. “Too soon.”

“Oh, lighten up. No harm done. See?” He lifted up his shirt so I could see his healed wound from the last time he checked my apartment for bad guys. I held back a sigh. His abs could put a washboard to shame. I had nearly forgotten.

“If you're trying to entice me with your body, it's not working,” I lied, not taking my eyes off him.

“I'm almost out of ideas, then. Wait. I need to go in your apartment because…I want to see your new carpet and couch. What about that?”

“Also not gonna happen. I know all of your tricks.” We were at my door now, and it took some serious willpower not to invite him in, but I stuck to my guns.

He snaked his arms around my waist. “Oh, you don't know all of my tricks.” He swiftly dipped me back and kissed me, giving me one of his kisses that blotted out the rest of the world. After lifting me back upright, he asked, “Can I see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I said dreamily. “Hey, thanks for everything you did for me today, and for Pete. You were there for me above and beyond what could have been expected from anyone. You didn't have to do any of that, and I appreciate it.”

He tucked a lock of hair that had escaped from my updo behind my ear, caressing the side of my face in the process. “When are you going to get it through your thick head that I like you, and I would pretty much do anything for you?”

My mouth dropped open, and my heart started hammering in my chest. I said in disbelief, “You like me?”

“Never stopped.” He gave me a sweet, too-quick kiss. “See you tomorrow.”

I let myself into my apartment and took off my jacket. Wait, it was Ryder's jacket. Hurrying back out the door, I called to Ryder, who was already at the bottom of the stairs. “Hey, Ryder!”

Looking up, he asked, “Did you come to your senses and realize you want me?”

I smiled. “Sorry, but no. You forgot your jacket.” I threw his jacket over the railing, and he caught it. “Good night.”

He clutched his chest. “Juliet! ‘O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?' ”

The man knew his
Romeo and Juliet
. Sexy. I leaned over the railing to quote the next line to him, “ ‘What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?' ”

He faltered, a little embarrassed. “Um, that's all I know. My buddies and I used to use that line on girls all the time in high school.”

“Did it work?”

Shrugging, he admitted, “Usually.”

I shook my head. “It takes a little more than one line of Shakespeare to get me in the mood.”

“What do you need? A soliloquy? I'll study up for tomorrow.”

“You do that, Detective,” I called as I retreated back into my apartment.

Once I was alone, I wanted to enjoy the thrill of finding out that Ryder still had feelings for me, but suddenly all I could think about was my poor Pete sitting in his jail cell. Going out with Ryder had given me a break from my incessant worrying, but now that I was alone, the reality of today came crashing back. I angrily brushed my tears away, steeling myself for the work I had ahead of me.

I was going to prove Pete's innocence if it was the last thing I did.