Person of Interest (A Celeste Eagan Mystery) (11 page)

I had a bath to run and a drink to gulp. I was a little impatient when I said, “Yes?”

“Hi, I’m Kellen Schaeffer with the
Peytonville Gazette
. I was hoping you could answer a few questions.”

Super. The day that couldn’t get worse nosedived. “I’m sorry, I don’t have anything to say to you.” I closed the door, or at least tried to. The reporter put his hand up and stopped it before I could get it more than halfway shut. Then he wedged his foot at the bottom. I gripped the edge to slam it as soon as he moved his loafer-clad foot.

“Wouldn’t you like to go on the record and give your side of the story as to how your car blew up at your boss’s funeral?”

As if. “Nope.” I held his gaze but he didn’t back off.

He glanced at a Muldoon-looking notebook. “Even with the rumors out there that you—”

My hand slid down the edge of the door. “Rumors? It just happened this morning, how can there already be rumors?”

“—set it yourself to throw off suspicion of your involvement in the man’s death?”

Sure, Detective Bush’s questions had leaned that direction, but why was the media? “What?”

He didn’t blink, laugh or shout
just kidding
. Just waited for me to comment.

The wineglass sat heavy in my hand. I slugged down the contents, to lighten it of course. As soon as I did, Kellen Schaeffer scribbled something on his notepad. Super, I’d be a lush suicide car bomber tomorrow morning when the paper came out.

“Would you like to comment on the connection between the break-in at your home and Kelsey Pierce’s home? How her death is tied into all of this?”

My house? Her house? “How do you...”

He hid a smile—almost. “I have my sources.”

I arched an eyebrow heavenward. A little bit of wine, and my eyebrows were loosey-goosey. “Mind if you tell me who those sources are?”

“I can’t do that.” He shook his head and chuckled lightly.

“Of course not.” Yeah, I didn’t expect him to.

He leaned in a little closer. I could smell his woodsy cologne. “I’ve also learned you were arrested twice this week.”

I blinked several times, trying to figure out what to say. The arrests weren’t necessarily a secret but to have some reporter, a very cute reporter—I’m sorry, the wine was really kicking in and I couldn’t help but notice—standing on my front porch, giving me a rundown of my worst week in the history of worst weeks was...a little too freaky. “It was nothing. I wasn’t actually charged with anything.” Fingerprinted, mug shots taken and questioned, but ultimately let go, and that’s really all that mattered. Right?

“I appreciate you giving me the opportunity,” I said in my best saccharine voice. “But I think I’ll pass.”

The reporter nodded and tucked the notebook in his back pocket. “Okay. If you change your mind—” he held out a business card “—call me. Anytime. My cell number’s on the back.” When I didn’t take it, he tucked it into the empty wineglass in my hand, winked and turned to leave.

“Mr. Schaeffer?”

“Call me Kellen.”

“Can you just give me a hint how you got my name and info?”

He paused. “Hmm. Tit for tat maybe. Call me when you want to talk.”

* * *

I leaned forward in the hot bath, and bubbles lapped over the side. I loved my tub. It was one of the few additions I’d made to the house when Colin moved out. It could probably fit four people it was so huge—not that I’d tried, mind you. It had a whirlpool and I’d sprung for the deluxe tiled steps and surrounding ledge in a delicate soft pink ceramic. I’d even painted the walls to match the darker veins in the tiles. It was heaven.

I checked the clip in my hair—might as well use the thing since I had it—and snagged my refilled wineglass. I’d emptied the rest of the bottle into it just before I slipped into the tub. I took a long sip, and then set it back on the edge of the tub. Warm water and a warm buzz. Just what the doctor ordered.

The CD player in the corner played Michael Bublé’s “Crazy Love.” The sweet tropical scent of the soy candles I’d placed around the bathroom pulled me from the crappy Texas autumn and transported me hundreds of miles away. It would have been stellar if I had some piña coladas rather than wine, but you make do with what you have.

One more deep sip and I sank down in the water up to my neck, leaned my head on the little tub pillow and closed my eyes, letting the day melt away.

The front doorbell rang.

“You have got to be kidding me.” No more reporters. I wasn’t in the frame of mind to hear their accusations or be “allowed” to speak on my own behalf.

The bell rang again, followed by a swift knock.

“Go away,” I halfheartedly yelled and dunked myself under the foamy water. I could barely hear Michael’s sexy voice, but the warm cocoon soothed the ache in my temple as well as the tension in my neck.

An odd bang echoed even under the water. Weird. I emerged from the water, and bubbles covered my face. When I swiped the suds away I yelped, met face to...metal with the barrel of a gun pointed at me.

Chapter Ten

“Muldoon? What the hell are you doing?” I stooped lower in the bath and crossed my arms. Thankfully the bubbles kept the majority of me hidden but I wasn’t taking any chances.

He walked into the bathroom, gun still drawn, and peered around the door as well as in the cabinets under the sink. “Why didn’t you answer the door?”

I narrowed my eyes and glared at him. “Who are you looking for, the Ty-D-Bol Man? He skipped out a few minutes earlier. If you hurry, you might be able to catch him.” I narrowed my gaze further. “Again, I’m asking, what the hell are you doing in my house?”

“Why didn’t you answer?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I cupped a handful of water and threw it at him, none of which actually hit him, just splashed all over my floor.

“Don’t move.” He slinked back out the door before I could so much as blink.

“Not to worry, Detective,” I hollered after him.

Muldoon came back a few minutes later and shoved the gun in a holster under his arm, inside his jacket. He flipped the light switch on and slammed his hands down on his hips. And stared.

Modesty be damned, I uncovered whatever might be peeking through and grabbed my wineglass and drank. When I downed the rest of the wine, I waved the stemmed glass at him. “Care to explain?”

He sucked in a long breath and released it before he said, “All the lights were off.”

I rolled my eyes. “Since when is that a crime?”

“You didn’t answer the door.”

I flicked more bubbles at him as comment.

“The officer sitting on your house saw you go in. When you didn’t answer...” Muldoon closed the lid of the toilet, sat and swiped his hand over his face. The white bandage stood out starkly against his tanned skin and dark hair. He looked a little disheveled. In the few days I’d known Muldoon, he’d never been anything but spit-and-polish tidy. Sitting in my pink candle-laden bathroom, he looked rough around the edges and a wee bit haggard.

“You were worried?” A warm rush spread through me, then turned quickly to bitter cold. “Why am I still being watched? Do you honestly think I’d set a bomb under my own damn car? You must be crazy.” I ended my tirade with a very ladylike hiccup.

Muldoon looked up from his perch. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Never you mind.” I thrust my chin out in the haughtiest manner possible while sitting in a tub with bubbles disintegrating by the second. “Unless you’re here to arrest me, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave.”

He shook his head in a slow deliberate motion. “No arresting. But I’d rather not leave.”

I crashed my hand into the water, sending more streams of water onto my floor as well as speeding up of the demise of my bubble cover. “Why?”

“There is still potential danger.” His brows knitted together with a frown.

“From me? Or against me?” I lifted my foot and pushed it against the faucet to turn on the hot water. When nothing more than cool water came out, I turned it back off, not wanting to wait while it warmed up, hoping Muldoon would just leave so I could get out of the tub.

“Why won’t you take any of this seriously?” Again he took in and let out a long breath. “Do you not get the severity of it all?”

“Of course I do. My damn car blew up. It’s doesn’t get much more severe than that. But why are you so focused on me? What could I have possibly done to warrant so much scrutiny?” I waved my hands in a flourish and knocked the wineglass off the edge of the tub. It shattered into a billion pieces and I stared at it for a long moment. Anger was running through my veins, and the broken glass was the last straw.

I slammed my feet down in the tub and thrust to standing. “Look here,
Detective
, I am tired of being scared. I am tired of being looked at as a victim. Hell, I’m
really
tired of being looked at as a criminal. I want to make sure you hear me on this: I have done nothing wrong.”

Muldoon lifted his finger and opened his mouth.

“Okay, fine, sure, I was ‘arrested,’” I said with finger quotes. “One was bogus and you well know it. The other, there was nothing to charge me with. As a matter of fact, I have not been charged with one damn thing. You will not tie me to Chad’s death. Listen up good, Detective, I didn’t do it. You will not tie me to the bomb under my car either. I don’t know the first thing about bombs or explosives. Not that I would attempt to throw off suspicion by putting my life—or anyone else’s life, for that matter—at risk. Got that?”

Muldoon stood. A smile crinkled the corner of his mouth. He snagged the pink bath sheet from the towel rack and came next to the tub. He leaned forward—so close in fact I could feel his breath on my face—and wrapped it around me. “You might want to cover up.”

Oh crap. Heat drained from my cheeks so fast I could feel it. I hoped against hope I was not standing completely nude in front of the lead detective out to put my ass behind bars.

I glanced down at my very wet and very naked body. Lumps of soap suds clung to various body parts but not near enough to cover up any particular part. Not a thing was left to his imagination. He got to see the full glory of my birthday suit.

“I, uh, sorry.” I grabbed the ends of the towel and tucked myself deep inside. I was too shocked to do much of anything else.

Muldoon pushed his jacket sleeve up to his elbow, reached past me and pulled the stopper. His rough jacket brushed against my thigh and I thought I might go up in flames right then and there. Whether from embarrassment or lustful heat I couldn’t say. Nor could I say which was worse. The next thing I knew, though, he’d scooped me up and lifted me out of the tub.

He walked into the hallway, held me for a moment, his gaze fiery as well when it locked onto mine, then set me down on the thick carpet and pushed me at arm’s length—literally and figuratively. “Why don’t you go get dressed? I’ll clean up the broken glass.”

How could a man turn you on and right back off again so quickly? And look not the least bit affected afterward?

On wobbly legs, I hurried to my room and slumped into a pair of denim jeans and a hooded KU sweatshirt. I stopped off at the linen closet to wrap a towel around my wet hair, then found Muldoon sitting on my sofa in the living room. “Did you get it all cleaned up?”

His elbows were on his knees, his fingers laced together in front of him. “Yes.”

“Thanks.” I curled myself up in the club chair and shoved my hands in the front pocket of the hoodie.

“Do you own any non-pink clothing?”

I eyed the detective for a long moment. “You didn’t come over here to ask about my fashion tastes. Or clean up after my clumsiness.” My cheeks heated and I narrowed my gaze. “Did you break my front door?”

Muldoon leaned back, tossed his arm over the back of the sofa and crossed his ankle over his knee, all casual as you please. “It’s fine.”

“Why are you here?”

“Someone blew up your car.” He held my gaze. That was one thing I really liked about Muldoon, he didn’t shy away when he spoke to people. He held your gaze. Kept it all real, if a little blunt. He finally asked, “Do you know who?”

“According to a reporter, I did it to throw off suspicion of my involvement in Chad’s murder. Didn’t you know people are speculating about that?”

“What reporter?”

I shrugged. “Kelly or something.”

“Kellen Schaeffer?”

I had to think back on that—it was almost a full bottle of wine and totally embarrassing moment earlier in the evening. “Sure. That’s it.”

Muldoon closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then looked back at me. “What else did he say?”

“Nothing much. He wanted me to give him my side of the story.”

He tugged on the hem of his jeans leg. “Did you?”

“Am I under some sort of gag order no one bothered to tell me about?”

“No.”

“Then it’s none of your business.” Actually, I didn’t know what was or wasn’t the police’s business. This was all new territory for me.

“If you’re telling the media information regarding my case, then it is my business.”

“Media?” I shifted in the chair. “It was one reporter for a local paper.”

Muldoon held my gaze.

I yanked my hands from the pocket and slapped my knees. “I am getting screwed coming and going here. If I say something, I’m revealing too much. If I keep my mouth shut, it’s assumed I’m hiding something. I don’t even know what’s going on. You tell me to back off your investigation. The next thing I know, you’re keeping watch over me and telling me I am in potential danger. It’s scaring the hell out of me.”

“If scaring you keeps you vigilant, then so be it. You have to be aware.”

“I’m supposed to be so vigilant that I check under my car for bombs?” I sighed and dropped my head back on the chair. “I didn’t say anything to the reporter. Though he knew quite a bit all on his own. Said he had sources, whoever that may be. He wouldn’t tell me who.”

“You asked?”

“Of course.”

Muldoon laughed. It was the second time I’d seen him laugh. “Of course you just came right out and asked a reporter who his source is. I’m half surprised he didn’t tell you. Your tenacity alone is a worthy competitor.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” I smiled back at him, but I couldn’t get past the worst worry that niggled at the back of my brain. “Can I ask you something?”

His eyebrow shot up. “Maybe.”

“Is Colin totally off the hook? In the clear?”

The smile slid from his face. “His alibi the night of Mr. Jones’s murder is solid. Why?”

I took a deep breath. “I need to know for sure that Paige will be taken care of. By him if not me.”

“Why would that be an issue?”

“My car blew up today, remember? I get the feeling you don’t think I’m worried enough. I promise you I am worried. Plenty. I’m scared beyond belief. But I don’t know of what.

“My boss is murdered and I don’t know why. Kelsey Pierce is killed and I don’t know why. Someone puts a bomb under my car. My ex takes my child.”

“Ah, Celeste...” Muldoon leaned forward.

“Don’t give me your pity. While I don’t like it, he’s right. Whatever is going on is not worth risking her life.”

“Still, I’m sorry. I know how much you adore her.”

I wanted to ask if he had a significant other, or kids, but since it was none of my business I kept that query to myself. However, if he was married, the woman must be one patient lady. I’d run into Muldoon at all times of the day since Wednesday. “What time is it?”

“Five ’til ten.”

“News is about to start. Do you think they got my good side?” I huffed. “Not sure which is the good side after a blast. Too bad they didn’t catch it when it blew. I bet it was a sight.” I snagged the remote from the coffee table and switched the TV on. “Do you want to watch with me or do you need to be going?”

“Celeste?” Muldoon grabbed my hand as I turned the channel to the local news. “Look at me.”

Breath shuddered in my lungs as I lifted my gaze to his.

“Are you okay? Really?” His crystal-blue gaze held mine. The warmth of his hand seeped into mine. “No joking, smart-aleck reply or changing the subject. How are you feeling?”

“Petrified.” I hadn’t known how badly I needed that human connection until he touched me. The shudder increased and I began to shake. I dropped the remote and latched onto his hand with both of mine. “Worse than you can imagine. And that pisses me off, if that makes any sense at all.”

Muldoon stood and pulled me to my feet. He wrapped his arms tightly around me and hugged me to his firm chest. I welcomed his strength and was glad not to be alone.

“...at Peytonville Prep.” The blurb of the school name on the news caught my attention. I pushed back from Muldoon’s grip and snagged the remote to turn up the volume.

“The lead detective on the Jones murder case declined to comment on the connection between that murder and the recent death of another school employee. He did say they have a person of interest for both cases and they have been keeping her under surveillance.”

“
Her
?” I narrowed my eyes. “Am
I
the person of interest?”

“Celeste...”

“You were watching me when Kelsey was killed. You know I couldn’t have anything to do with it.” I shoved him farther away from me. “Why are you here?”

“I came to check on you.”

“Because I’m
in danger
. That’s what you said. Did you leave off
in danger of fleeing and getting away with murder
?”

“It’s not like that.” He ducked his head and broke eye contact.

“Isn’t it?” I stalked away from him as the temptation to smack the hell out of him overwhelmed me—when did I get so violent? I wanted to hit just about everyone these days. And all I needed was for him to toss my ass in jail for assaulting a police officer—again. “You were awful quick to get to me in the parking lot this morning.”

“I was there.”

“Watching me.” Not a question. “You said you heard it on the scanner.” I shook my head. I’d suspected he was there. “I want you to leave. The next time you have something to say to me, go through my lawyer.”

“Celeste...” His cell phone chirped. He held my gaze for a long moment, then dug it from his pocket and answered. He gave me one last look, then spoke to the caller and headed out the door.

* * *

The next morning was a Monday, but so not typical. I had little to do. School was still out one more day. Paige was at Colin’s, and Levi was God knew where. I was housebound with no vehicle. And of course I’d woken with a horrible hangover—I might have opened another bottle of wine after I kicked Muldoon out and I might have drunk most of it—and way too early to make some of the phone calls I needed to. I was still wearing my jeans and KU hoodie, having fallen asleep in bed with a book—I don’t know that I actually read any of it before I’d dozed off.

The underwire of the bra was poking me in the boob as I lumbered down the hall to the kitchen to at least get some coffee brewing. I shoved my cold hands inside the hoodie and adjusted the undergarment so I could move without getting stabbed. Once I had a pot of hazelnut going, I walked to the front windows and peered through a little gap I made in the curtains. The sun hadn’t even popped up over the tops of the houses yet. Streetlights illuminated the front of every third house. There was no movement for as far as I could see. I was, however, not interested in my neighbors. I was curious to see if anyone was watching my house.