No, more than odd. This might be a trap. If she was with Judith and her father, she was safe already, so why bother calling? Just because she suspected someone burgling her house might have something to do with Trask’s death? That couldn’t wait until morning? All I had were rumors about what had happened to her husband, and I didn’t have anything even half as vague when it came to Trask. What had I said when she was present? Had I accidentally implied I was getting too close?
“Alex,” Pearl whispered, “are you scared too?”
What was the point in lying to her? “Yeah, I am.”
“Mr. Martin said it’s okay to be scared because that’s when you can be brave.”
Dammit, Martin. Even from beyond the grave, he was better than I was. “Tell you what, we’re going to count to one thousand. And if Sev isn’t back by the time you finish, we’re going to…” Oh God, what were we going to do? I couldn’t very well chase after him weaponless with Pearl in tow. “We will call the police to help us.”
Pearl gave me a skeptical look. “They put Miss Bella in jail though.”
“It was an honest mistake.” Great, back to lying. “We’re working on fixing it. Maybe we don’t even need them. We have to get to one thousand first. You can count that high, right?”
She answered with an enthusiastic yes and proceeded to number the seconds. Fortunately, she only got somewhere in the seven hundred range before the car came rumbling back. I sprang off the couch to the porch, keeping an eye on Daisy to make sure she didn’t make another break for it.
Sev guided Crista out of the car and she clung to him. I found some consolation in her disheveled appearance—an unflattering gingham housedress and ratty slippers, not to mention clumps of mussed hair. She took the stairs quietly, too small and light to make the boards creak, but sniffled the whole way.
“Pardon me, Mr. Carrow,” she whimpered. “I look like a mess.”
“Yeah, well, I always look like Clark Gable at two a.m. myself.” I herded them in and shut the door. Sev nudged her toward the couch, where Pearl still sat wide-eyed. “What happened? Did they take anything?” I asked.
Crista shook her head as she sat. “I don’t know. I heard the crash and went downstairs and saw someone breaking things, and I screamed, and they ran, and I ran for help. Miss Howe is so good to let me use their telephone.”
Yeah, good. But not good enough to let her stay or offer to call the cops? “Why didn’t you stay with them?” I asked.
“I am not stupid. Do you think I am not suspicious that my house is broken into right after I inherit money? Miss Howe is a nice girl, but he gave her nothing even though they are to be married and gives it to me instead. Very unfair of him.” Crista glared. “But I don’t even know why he left me money. I don’t even want his money, the bastard.” She made a spitting gesture. “Of course, he keeps ruining my life even after he’s dead.”
Pearl flinched at the sudden anger. It was very much time for her to go back to bed. Sev also noticed.
“Gattina,” he called. “You are up so late past your bedtime. Let me take you back up, hmm?”
She hesitated a second before taking his offered hand, her eyes darting between the three of us. Eventually she gave in and let Sev lead her toward the stairs. Daisy prowled after them.
I waited until both cat and girl were out of sight before I said anything else. “Did you see anything about the person who broke in?” I asked. “Man, woman? Were they tall?”
Crista’s face crinkled. “Do you see how short I am? Everyone is tall to me!”
“Okay, well, were they more Sev’s height, or my height?”
She shrugged. “Not so short as Mr. Arrighi.”
Right, taller than five seven. Not Judith Howe since she was considerably shorter. Not her father either, since he probably wouldn’t be able to move fast or at all without hacking up a lung.
“So, you think this has to do with Trask?” I asked.
“What else would it be?”
Well, here went nothing. “Something to do with Leo’s death, which seems to be getting dragged up a lot.” I looked her in the eye. “What else has Bella done for you? Because, yeah, it’s very nice you’re friends, but I know you’re not telling me something, and keeping your mouth shut is only keeping us from getting her out of jail.”
Crista looked away for a moment. “She saved me,” she whispered.
“From?”
“Did you ever hear of a man named Salvador Sarto? He ran a speakeasy on a side street off Beacon.”
“Not up on my small-time Boston gangsters, sorry.”
“It’s just as well. He wasn’t a pleasant man to know. An even worse man to be married to. And Bella knew. We’d all grown up in the same village in Italy as children. So when she figured out what was happening, she arranged for me to get away. She was sending Leo up here anyway, and it’s quiet, and it used to be safe.”
“Were you and Leo already a couple or?”
A faint smile crept up Crista’s face. “No, I didn’t meet him until he picked me up. But it was ver’amore, love at first sight. But we couldn’t get married, not really, unless I called for an annulment, and if I did that, Sal would find out. But he disappeared. When I asked, Bella said she’d made sure he’d never hurt me again.”
“And you didn’t think that was important to tell me?”
“This was over eight years ago!”
Of course, Sev picked that moment to come back downstairs. “I just got Pearl to calm down,” he hissed. “What are you arguing about?”
I took a breath before answering. “I’m trying to figure out if Leo’s death has anything to do with Trask’s. There was a man here a couple years ago when Leo died named James Smith, and that is a fake name if I ever heard one, and I am ninety percent sure he’s responsible for Leo’s murder.”
Sev blinked at me. “Who— When did you decide this?”
Shit, had I forgotten to tell him about James Smith? Ugh, there were too many things running through my head. “It doesn’t matter. What’s important is Leo and Trask were working together, so it’s possible that if Smith bumped Leo off, then maybe he did Trask too. So.” I turned back to Crista. “Your first husband, Sal Sarto. He have family? Friends? And more importantly, did James Smith look like any of them?”
“Don’t bully her,” Sev muttered.
“I’m not bullying her. I just want her to answer a question.”
“Well the answer is no,” snapped Crista. “He had no one who would dare cross Bella. They were far more afraid of her than she was of them.”
“And yet she’s afraid to set foot out of her jail cell right now.”
Crista sighed. “Mr. Carrow, I have told you everything now. If I knew the answers to your questions, I would give them. Do you think I like being scared? Not knowing what is happening?”
Sev laid a hand on my arm. “Basta. We are all tired and not in the right state to be discussing this.” He nodded at Crista. “You will stay here overnight. You can stay in my room, and I will stay out here by the door in case of anything.”
What was he doing, inviting this woman to sleep here? She was lying, or if not lying, at least holding something back. She had to know the Reeds were imaginary, and if she knew that, then she probably knew who James Smith was. And if she knew that, what else did she know? How could I prove her supposed break-in was even real?
“You can’t be serious,” I said.
Sev frowned. “Why am I not serious?”
It was too much to explain. And if Crista was hiding something, and I pulled the rug out from under her, who knew what she would do. “I mean, we’re going to leave her house all trashed?”
“We can help her clean in the morning.”
“And give whoever broke in a chance to come back?” I looked to Crista. “What if they’re looking for something? Now there’s no one in there, they can take whatever they want. Or maybe they left something! We have to go back. At least to check.”
Sev shook his head. “I don’t think we should leave Crista and Pearl alone—”
“I’ll go. You can stay here with them if you want. I can do it by myself. Don’t worry about me.”
Sev sighed. “I would feel better if you waited until morning, but you know what, Alex? Do what you want.”
I stood there awkwardly. Not quite what I had anticipated. Or wanted. But if I backed out now, I would look very silly indeed. So, I stumbled upstairs and threw on a set of clothes before coming back. Crista still sat on the couch, shaking.
Sev shoved a flashlight into my hands. I hadn’t even known we had one in the house. “I assume you’re walking?” he said.
Breathe. “I’ll be back soon.”
I went for the door, and Sev’s brows came together like somehow what I was doing confused him. Well, if he hadn’t wanted me to call his bluff, he shouldn’t have presented the option. I stomped out the door.
My annoyance carried me all the way to the library before the logical part of my brain kicked in. What was I doing walking over a mile in a strange place with nothing but a flashlight and indignation? Ed’s warning about bears came creeping back to me. And, honestly, who was to say the person who had broken into Crista’s wasn’t lying in wait somewhere, ready to pounce?
I paused, holding my breath, listening. Just cicadas and crickets. I shone the light against all the nearest houses. No movement, not even glowing eyes in the darkness. Somehow that made my uneasiness worse. The emptiness of this place choked me. I’d been an idiot, I needed to go back—be with Sev and Pearl and—
No, I was doing this. I was going to show Sev and Crista and anyone else who cared to think of me as incapable that I was worth something. And hey, the only time I could say I was brave was if I was scared first. I sped up. If anyone was stalking me, they would have a hard time keeping up. See, the indignation is worth something.
Crista’s house loomed out of the darkness, a ramshackle shadow. I climbed the stairs, and they squeaked almost as loud as the cicadas. The weak beam of the flashlight fell on the shattered window next to the front door. So, she hadn’t completely made it up. I squinted at the glass. There didn’t seem to be any blood on the broken bits, which showed the trespasser had put at least enough thought into this to cover their hand.
I jiggled the door handle, but it was locked. I sighed. Silly thing to do when I could reach right in and undo it. However, unlocking the bolt proved easier said than done. It took some contorting on my part, and even then, I barely reached the knob. Judith hadn’t done this—her arms were far too short. Of course, Crista still might have done it herself and not noticed such a little detail.
The place was trashed. The rocking chair had been tossed against the stone fireplace, where it had broken into several pieces. The rug was crumpled and displaced, and the couch was no longer flush against the wall. I took a step forward, window glass crunching beneath my feet, and shone the light into the corners. No one was there.
I let go of the breath I’d been holding and realized there was something off. The last time I’d been in here, it had smelled of bread. Now it smelled of whiskey. I’d know the stench anywhere. I followed the scent like a hound and discovered the source under the overturned chair. I picked up the flask from the puddle of its own contents. I doubted Crista had owned such a thing, which meant the burglar had brought it in. I turned the flask over in my hands. It was old and dented and dull. While a flask wasn’t uncommon, one in such poor condition could only belong to someone as destitute as Richard Trask. I stuffed it into a pocket to be evidence in the morning.
Lights reflected in the remaining window glass. I froze. Who had a car? Mr. Gaines had a truck, but aside from him, I had no idea. I flattened myself against the wall and pushed the curtain aside. Blinded by headlights as the car curved, my heart beat faster. But as I blinked and the spots dissolved, I realized the car was the borrowed Oldsmobile. I sighed in relief and made my way to the porch as Sev stepped out of the car.
“I thought you didn’t want to leave them?” I whispered.
He looked up at me, and I couldn’t quite see his face in the dark, but his tone was enough to tell me I was in deep trouble. “I didn’t want to, but I had to go running after you, didn’t I?”
My cheeks burned up again. If I wasn’t careful, they’d go permanently red. Without giving him the satisfaction of me speaking to him, I slank down the stairs to the car. He huffed as he got back in. The roar of the engine cut through the static silence humming in my ears. Well, at least he’d come after me. That had to count for something, right?
“So, where are they?” I asked.
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye as he slid the car back onto the road. “I told Crista to go into Pearl’s room and lock the door.”
I nodded. Was it possible to die of shame? Maybe I’d be the first, and doctors would exclaim over the medical oddity. Maybe Vern would be able to squeeze something about it into the Westwick Journal.
“And did you find anything useful?” Sev grunted after a few moments of silence.
“Maybe.” I dug the empty flask out of my pocket. “I think this is Richard Trask’s.”
He peeked at it before turning his eyes back to the road. “That could be anyone’s.”
“Well it’s not yours, and it’s not mine, and I don’t think it’s Crista’s.” Already the house was in view, so I condensed my speech. “Look, you didn’t meet him. He’s not a pleasant guy. Kinda unstable.” I touched the bruise he’d given me. Most of it was hidden by my hair, but it was still sore even if no one could see it. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”
“If you say so, caro.” Sev pulled the car up next to the house. “But I still think you should have waited until daylight.”
I wasn’t about to admit I was wrong, not after that whole production, so I kept quiet. I hopped out of the car, the flask and the flashlight still clutched in my hands. Once we got in, I shoved the flask into the desk drawer while Sev coaxed Crista back downstairs. I saw her before he herded her into the bedroom: terrified and relieved all at once.
“Hey, Sev?” I called as he left her. He turned to me. He looked exhausted and, frankly, a little nervous. Had my reckless trip upset him that much? “Why don’t you go upstairs?” I said. “I’ll stay down here. I won’t be able to sleep anyway.”
He hesitated. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah. Consider it an apology for having to come after me.”
“Alex.”
“I’m serious. Go.”
He raised a hand like he wanted to touch me and then thought better of it and let it drop. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Heat rose in my cheeks again. “Don’t mention it.”
His typical half smile hovered on his lips as his gaze lingered on me for longer than it should have. What did that mean? I thought about asking, but he was already on the stairs, and I was left in the foyer. Alone.
Chapter Nineteen
As expected, I didn’t get much sleep after the mayhem. Even if I had wanted to, the sun poured in through the window by half-past six. The sun’s appearance was followed by Crista’s. She stood awkwardly in the doorway to Sev’s bedroom.
“I am sorry about last night,” she said. “I didn’t mean to upset everyone.”
“Not your fault,” I mumbled as I tried to rub the exhaustion out of my eyes. “Do you want me to get Mr. Arrighi to drive you back?”
“I can cook breakfast first, if you’d like. In thanks.”
My stomach was too knotted up to even think about food, and I wasn’t keen on Crista staying in the house longer than necessary until I got to the bottom of whatever she was hiding, but Sev and Pearl were probably hungry.
“Well, lemme ask what he wants to do,” I said. “Maybe we should all spring for something at the diner instead?”
I stumbled past her and up the stairs only to find Sev already awake. He smiled at me as he tied his robe. “Oh, I’m surprised you’re up,” he said.
&nbs
p; I stifled a yawn. “Crista’s up too. Asking if she should make breakfast.”
He shrugged. “Why not? Maybe she will make something that isn’t eggs.”
“Do we even have anything that isn’t eggs?”
“Well, there’s oatmeal.”
“Pearl won’t eat oatmeal,” I said.
“Maybe Crista can convince her to try it.”
“Bella couldn’t even get her to try it.”
“Alex,” he sighed. “You’re arguing for the sake of it now. Just say what you’re thinking and save us some trouble.”
Just say? Just say? How could I? There were a hundred thousand things to say, I’d never get through them all. Crista was probably lying to us. Louise Gaines was a despicable woman, and her husband nearly as bad. Wallace and Kelly were a couple of jokes, if not downright obstructionist. Richard Trask was a drunk who had assaulted and now burglarized people. Not to mention Bella refusing to tell me anything.
And that was just about the murder. I felt more and more like I was going insane, like I was falling and couldn’t catch myself. My only two friends were dead, and Martin’s was all my fault. If I’d left well enough alone, kept my mouth shut, maybe he’d still be alive. And I’d, what, dragged Fran along on a hook earlier because it was convenient? What part of me had thought that was acceptable? Why was that part winning?
And here Sev was, expecting me to blurt out all. And the even more crazy part was I wanted to. I wanted to tell him I wasn’t who he thought I was, and he should leave me and not look back. Because what had I brought him but pain? I’d made him leave his family, his job, his home because I had a big mouth and a nose for trouble. He couldn’t love me that much; he couldn’t.
“You’re making faces, caro,” he huffed. “What’s wrong?”
The now-familiar heat flowed through me. He wanted to know what was wrong? I’d start with the simplest. “Fine,” I snapped. “I want to know what the hell is going on with you and Crista.”
Boiling Over Page 18
