"I discussed most of this with your father, you know, before…" Rafe's words trailed off as he placed his napkin in his lap, his face contorting with concern.
Pushing around a large, sauce-coated mushroom with my fork, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "It's okay to talk about my father's death. I'm coming to terms with it."
He shook his head as he set down his fork and knife, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the table. "I just can't believe someone poisoned him, and in his health shake, no less."
I froze.
I felt my skin tingling, my foggy brain suddenly focused with laser precision on his words.
The news that my father had been murdered was obviously no secret. However, the fact that poison was introduced to his DynoDrink had yet to be disclosed to the general public. I carefully went back over every conversation Rafe and I had in the last few days. I was certain I hadn't mentioned it to him. So how did he know?
I attempted to set my fork carefully on the table. The resounding squeal of the tines scraping against the plate from my shaking hand nearly made my fillings jump from my teeth. I dropped the fork on my napkin, using every ounce of my strength to push past the pounding headache and the urge to grab him by the front of the sweater to interrogate him.
"His health shake?" I asked, playing dumb.
Rafe paused, forkful of food halfway to his mouth. "His what?"
"Health shake," I repeated, my heart racing. "You just said his health shake was poisoned. How would you know that?"
In the silence that followed, my mind ran rampant. Rafe had reportedly been doing publicity on the mountain at the time the drink was poisoned, but he could've easily slipped back to the casino. The staff wouldn't have given him a second look. He was in and out of the penthouse all the time to chat with my dad, according to Britton.
Which begged the question—what did I really even know about Rafe other than the love-struck musings of a teenage crush and how the media portrayed him? He was the one who turned my father on to the health drink. I'm sure he could have easily had access to Britton's medicine cabinet. Maybe he'd floated these same ideas to my father and hadn't been happy with the way he'd responded. Unhappy enough to do something drastic.
And Rafe said he'd found me on the floor this evening, but what if he'd really been the one who'd put me there?
"Rafe?" I prompted when I realized he still hadn't answered. "How do you know about the health shake?"
He broke the silence with a deceptively casual shrug. "Wasn't that how he died?"
I nodded slowly. "But I wasn't aware that was public knowledge."
"I guess I just assumed," he said, covering the statement quickly with a sip from his iced tea.
"You just assumed he was poisoned and assumed that it was his DynoDrink?" I asked. "That's a lot of great guessing on your part."
Rafe paused. He set his drink down. Then his face broke into his charming bad-boy grin, the one he pulled out for the cameras and groupies. "Okay, you caught me. I've been listening to the hotel rumor mill. Some girls from housekeeping saw the police taking cans of the stuff from the penthouse. I admit it, I'm a gossip. Please don't tell anyone. It will ruin my image." Then he winked, as if letting me in on his private joke.
"The police took a lot of stuff from the penthouse," I said slowly. "What made you so sure that about the DynoDrink?"
Rafe shrugged. "Well, if I were going to poison someone, I'd put it in the DynoDrink." He leaned forward, as if sharing a secret. "I know I'm a sponsor, but have you smelled that stuff?" He waved a hand in front of his nose.
I watched his charming act as I mused that it was an interesting choice of words. If I were going to poison someone... It was possible he was telling the truth. I mean, hadn't Britton made the same leap about the health shake? Then again, it was just as possible he was covering.
I tried to look for his tell, anything that said he was lying. The only problem was that all my father had taught me about catching liars and cheaters was lost to my inability to filter past my own feelings. This was way too personal. I wanted to believe Rafe. Which meant it was possible I was missing something. Then there was the steady drum beat in my head which didn't help things.
My phone jingled to life in my purse. I pulled it out, thankful for respite, and saw Alfie's face gracing the screen. I swiped the phone on. "Tessie."
"We found your Joe Pesci look-alike," Alfie growled in my ear, almost sounding unhappy to admit that such a guy actually existed.
For the first time that night, I felt my spirits rise. "You did? Where?"
Alfie's voice held zero hint of humor as he answered.
"He's swimming with the fishes."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I stared down into the man-sized hole in the top of the aquarium at The Deep Blue. Below me, several schools of colorful fish darted back and forth, happy that something new was occupying the sharks for the time being. I tried my best to keep my meal down as I thought about what that "something new" was.
After I'd answered Alfie's call, Rafe had offered to escort me from the restaurant, but I'd politely declined, telling him Alfie was waiting for me. While I was still perfectly capable of crossing the street on my own, the truth was I wasn't sure I wanted to be alone with Rafe at the moment. Was I 100% positive he was a murderer? No. But I wasn't 100% positive he wasn't. And with the way my luck was going, those were odds I didn't want to bet on.
Instead, I'd darted from the restaurant as quickly as I could, pushing through the crowd of people gaping at the scene in the Deep Blue's lobby until Security had escorted me to the sixth floor balcony where Alfie and several other grim-faced guys in suits stood taking in the scene from a bird's eye view.
A man from the Crime Scene Unit in diving gear had just opened the tank's hatch, poised at the edge with a long silver pole that had a sturdy loop at the end. He was obviously ready to pull up whatever had the fish in a frenzy. I switched my gaze to the balcony below me, leaning over the railing a bit for a better vantage point. Officers scoured the area under me, chatting with witnesses, taking notes, cordoning off sections of the 5th floor balcony with crime scene tape. Apparently, that was where the action had taken place.
Alfie broke away from the other suits, approaching me. "How's the knot?" he asked, gesturing to my head.
"I'll live." I waved my hand toward the fish tank. "What do you know about this?"
He looked over the railing, and we watched as the diver pulled the bloated faux Pesci from the water. He flopped on his back on the top of the tank, his wide-eyed, lifeless stare seeming to be directed at me. I ducked my head back, taking in deep breaths.
Alfie's eyes danced with amusement. "First time you ever seen a dead guy?"
I briefly glanced at Joe again, his empty glare seeming to have followed me. "Maybe." I swallowed back the few bites of chicken I'd had earlier that were plotting an escape.
"It's never pretty."
I briefly wondered how many non-pretty corpses Alfie had encountered in his line of work. "How did you find him?" I asked.
"Well, your friend there was caught on our camera in the elevator right after your attack. We followed the footage of him as he left The Royal Palace and headed this way. By the time we got here, he was like that."
I swallowed hard. "Any idea how he got 'like that?'"
"I've been told that witnesses saw him fall off the balcony below us into the tank."
I looked at the railing where we stood. It came up to my armpits. Even if Joe was a good foot taller than I was, there was no way he'd accidentally fall over a balcony like that.
"Yeah, I think he was pushed, too," Alfie said, reading my mind.
"Actually, he was stabbed first," Ryder interjected, catching us both off guard.
I spun to find him standing directly behind me, rocking his casual look again. Shirt sleeves rolled up, tie askew, the top button of his shirt undone. I wondered if it was his after-five look, my mind wandering over just what Ryd
er did in his off hours. I had a hard time imagining him doing anything but popping up at inopportune times and asking annoying questions.
"That's so?" Alfie asked, the tone in his voice challenging, as if he didn't believe the feds had better informants than he did.
Ryder nodded, unfazed. "It is." He glanced over the railing. "See that laceration there?" He pointed to a gash in the dead guy's side. "Knife wound."
"You sure it wasn't just from the sharks taking a nibble?" Alfie probed.
Shark nibbles. Eww. I took a deep breath, telling that chicken it better stay put it if knew what was good for it.
"Nothing is certain until the M.E. checks off on it," Ryder hedged. "But, yeah. Unless the shark was wielding a switchblade, I'm pretty sure it was human inflicted."
"Huh," Alfie said, glancing back down at the body. "Guess he was having a real unlucky night."
"To put it mildly." Ryder paused. "How about you, Alfonso? How has your night been?"
Alfie turned his stare from the body squarely on Ryder. It was his steely, stony-faced stare that made card cheaters quake in their boots and employees run for cover.
But if Ryder was intimidated by it, he didn't flinch.
"Why do you ask, Agent Ryder?" Alfie ground out.
"Seems witnesses said you were asking about our victim."
Alfie shrugged. "I'm a curious guy."
"Before he was found," Ryder amended.
Alfie's eyes narrowed. "You charging me with something, pal?"
Ryder paused again, and I had a feeling he kind of wanted to. "No," he finally said. "But I'd advise you to stay away from our crime scene."
"Gladly," Alfie spat back. "Come on, Tessie, let's go."
Alfie moved to grab my arm, but Ryder stopped him. "Actually, I need to talk to Tessie. Alone."
Alfie's gaze bounced from Ryder to me, and back again.
"It's okay," I told him, trying to diffuse the testosterone brewing in the air before the fish tank caught a second victim of the evening. "I'm fine."
Finally Alfie nodded. "Fine. Call me when you're at the penthouse. I'm posting a guard tonight."
Before I could protest that I didn't need an armed guard, he was gone. I let out a breath of relief I hadn't realized I'd been holding.
"Charmer, isn't he?" Ryder observed.
I shrugged. "He's old school. What can you do?"
Ryder's mouth curved into a hint of a smile. One that vanished as his eyes roved my face, honing in on the lump which I was sure was turning several lovely shades of purple. "What happened?"
"Long story." I looked down at the tank. "Involving that guy, I'm afraid."
If his face held concern before, it was downright frightening now. "Tell me," he demanded.
So, I did, filling him in on everything that had happened that evening from my place being ransacked to Alfie following our Joe Pesci impersonating friend.
When I was done, Agent Ryder stared at me for a long moment. Then he did the completely unexpected. He grabbed me in a hug. And not the kind that your Aunt Mildred gives you. This one was soft and fierce all at the same time, the kind where emotion overrides all logical thought and your body reacts all on its own. At least, that's what I told myself as I melted into his embrace, my knees all but giving way beneath me as I inhaled the woodsy scent of his aftershave. Pine. Like the fresh trees outside. With a subtle hint of sandalwood.
I was just letting the scent carry me away to a fantasyland filled with silk sheets and warm boxers when he pulled away, holding me at arms' length as he looked me over from head to toe. "You okay?" he asked.
I nodded. Mostly because I didn't trust myself to speak.
He took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair making it stand up on end. "Jesus, Tessie, you could have been killed."
He glanced at our dead friend, then back up at me. "You sure Alfie found this guy after he fell in the water? 'Cause I might be tempted to give him a nudge over the balcony myself if I knew he did that to you."
I was pretty sure that was the nicest thing he'd ever said to me.
I nodded. "Positive. Look, Alfie's rough around the edges, but he's no killer." I was pretty sure.
"Okay, walk me through it," Ryder said, switching back into his professional mode. "Alfie called you to tell you about this guy. What time was that?"
"I don't know. Not too long ago."
"Where were you?"
"At the Golden Chalice having dinner with Rafe."
Ryder's eyes snapped up to meet mine. "You were on a date?"
"Uh..."
"You were on a date." This time it wasn't a question but a statement, all emotion he might have displayed a minute ago drained from his face. "I thought you said you weren't dating Rafe."
"No, I'm not. I mean, yes, I was, but it was a business date. I mean, business meeting. About the casino. Where he works." I blamed the possible concussion that I was rambling like a kid trying to cover her tracks after getting caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
"Agent Ryder!" a voice yelled from the floor below.
I let out a sigh of relief as he leaned over the railing, praising the guy's timing.
"Yes?" Ryder directed below to a uniformed officer. "There's something you want to see down here," the guy said. "We've got some shiny material lodged between the paneling."
"Shiny?" I muttered, making my way to the banister. I tugged at Ryder's sleeve. "Weston wears those awful shiny shirts. Like, all the time."
Ryder nodded. "That's what I wanted to tell you. We found Weston's prints on the railing where the vic fell over, too."
I couldn't help just the smallest of smug smiles. "Looks like you've got enough to call Weston in for questioning now."
* * *
Ryder insisted on having one of his officers escort me to the penthouse, where, true to my word, I promptly called Alfie to tell him that he could post his rent-a-goon.
Britton answered the door, her face falling into a frown when she saw me. "Dang, girl. That really is some bump. Come on in. I'll get you an ice pack." Her arm encircled my shoulders, leading me to the couch. Boxes filled the living room, pulling me from obsessing over Rafe, Alfie, Joe Pesci, and the look of utter disappointment on Ryder's face at the mention of my dinner versus the heat still pulsing through my body at the feel of his body pressed to mine. Britton's whole life, and her time with my dad, was shoved into these cardboard containers stacked against the walls and lining the hall.
"I really wish there was something I could do to help."
"With packing?" Britton sat next to me, pushing me back and applying a blue ice pack to my temple.
The cold was a shock at first, but it quickly went to work, easing the pain some. I placed one hand over the pack and waved the other around the room. "I wish I could help this all not suck so much."
She patted my leg. "Hey, I found something while going through Dickie's stuff I think will take your mind off of everything." Britton got up and dug through a box near the front door, returning with a tiny wrapped package. She set it on my lap. "Open it. Your dad got it for your birthday last year, when you said you'd come for a visit."
But I never did.
The room spun a bit, feeling like I was hit on the head all over again. This time the pain radiated in my chest, angry fingers clutching my heart. I'd never thought about the times I had let my father down, the promises I'd broken, or the white lies I'd told, always so wrapped up in my own disappointment.
I pushed the box back toward Britton. "I can't. I don't deserve anything."
She dropped to her knees in front of me, cradling the box into my palm and wrapping my fingers around it. "He loved you so very much. He was saving this because he knew you'd come out one day."
"For his funeral," I blubbered, tears falling freely.
"Don't be so hard on yourself."
I studied the small gift, carefully wrapped in bright yellow paper, my favorite color. The bow was lopsided and tied too tightly, obviously done by my dad.
This tightened the grip in my chest. I gasped for breath, the tears coming even faster. I wanted to preserve the paper, the package, and really didn't even care what was inside. The fact that my father had actually wrapped the gift himself spoke louder than whatever present lay within.
Curiosity finally bested me. I wedged the bow off intact and gently draped it on the table next to me. Slowly peeling back the tape, I was able to save the sunny paper as well. I pulled the top off of the box, exposing a pair of diamond stud earrings, a tiny scrap of paper falling away. I picked it up. Scrawled in his nearly illegible handwriting, it said, "I knew you wouldn't come on your birthday. I'm just glad you finally made it. Love you, kiddo." I pressed the note to my chest, sobbing, wishing my daddy could hug all of the pain away one more time, regretting every wasted vacation and opportunity to come visit. Britton's arms encircled me again, and I drew as much comfort from her as I could.
When I was finally able to curb the crying, Britton whispered, "The guest room is made up for you. Most of your things are in there."
"Thank you for letting me stay with you. I just don't feel safe in my room."
"Don't be silly." She playfully swatted my arm. "I wouldn't have it any other way."
I gently gathered my treasures and took them to my room, splaying them on my nightstand. The room was decent sized with a full bed and its own bathroom off to the side. I dug through my hastily packed suitcase, found some sleep pants and a T-shirt, and quickly changed. As I slid into bed, I was overcome with a sense of peace. I knew I was right where my father wanted me, fighting for his casino, safely under his roof. And sleep claimed me quickly.
For a while.
My ringing phone startled me awake. Swiping it on without looking, I muttered, "Hello?"
"Hey, sorry to wake you," I heard Ryder's voice.
Luck Be a Lady Page 15
