by Livia Quinn
While he worked it between his fingers and under his nails I asked, “When was the last time you talked to River?”
He scrunched his eyebrows together, squeezed one eye shut, tilted his head back. Come on, Fred. “I believe it was Sunday night before his date.”
“His date?” I grabbed his arm. “River had a date? Who was it with?” A little urgency crept into my voice, despite my efforts to prevent it.
“He didn’t tell me. I assumed it was a date. He said he’d call me Monday about what to do. You know he always calls and tells me, like where to put stuff, and when to meet him, and then we go over his list so I don’t screw—er, so I know exactly what he wants me to do, but he didn’t show up. I figured he got busy, but since we were supposed to work on the roof and the window this week, I came anyway.” His expression changed, becoming concerned. “Is that okay?”
I hesitated knowing how close Freddie was to River. “River didn’t show up at his job site Monday morning, Fred. I haven’t been able to locate him—”
“He’s missing?” Freddie paced. “Call 911. Something must have happened to him. He could have driven off a cliff—”
“Ooo-kay. Let’s take a deep breath.”
And I meant we. His instantaneous reaction made me feel even worse, if that was possible. I put my arm around his shoulder and led him onto the porch. It was full dark now and our breaths were coming out in puffs in the light of the porch. “First of all, there may be one cliff in all of Louisiana, so we can rule that out.” Neither of us laughed.
“Aren’t you worried?” he asked, eyebrows curled in concern. “I mean it’s Thursday, for God’s sake.”
My eyes burned. “I know, Freddie. I filed a report yesterday morning, and the sheriff is investigating.” I hoped. “And our friends are putting out feelers. But no one seems to know the identity of the woman River was with Sunday night at the Wasted Turtle.”
“The Wasted Turtle. The Wasted Turtle?” Freddie caught me off guard with his vehemence. “River wouldn’t have gone to that place on a date, Tempest.”
Freddie had a point. If he hadn’t gone there on a date, then why? And who was the woman, if she wasn’t his date?
“Thanks for fixing the leaks. I’ll let you know if I hear from River, and you be sure to call me if you remember anything.”
“You…betcha.”
* * *
I took a Lean Cuisine out of the freezer, and changed clothes while Chef Micro prepared my meal. I ate it without tasting. My cell phone bleeped and I was surprised to hear Jordie Lang’s voice on the other end.
“Hey, Jordie. Whatsup?”
“Hi, Tempe.” Jordie’s voice practically bubbled through the phone. “I’m at practice. You’re still coming Saturday aren’t you? I mean, with everything that’s been going on…” Worry came through clear as spring water.
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
She shrieked, “Awesome. I needed to know ‘cause they’re going to let us assign seats for family and friends.”
“Well, I hope you have a few extra because you’re going to have your own cheering section.”
“Really?” She sounded so enthused and…grateful, my heart melted.
“Really. It could be as many as let’s see—me, Bailey, Montana, Katerina, Shannon, Chris, Aurora, Liam, Freddie, no, scratch Bailey, but add Mariah—I think that’s it.”
“Tempe, you’re the bomb.com.”
“Thanks, kid.”
Silence. “Jordie? Was there something else?”
“I was wondering if you know…um, where I might find a part-time job. I’m a really hard worker, but I can’t just apply at Gator’s Grub or anywhere like Alliance or Hugo where I’d have to drive. And I have to work around my basketball schedule. You have a lot of customers, and Daddy said I should ask people I trust who are in a position to have like, customers and stuff.”
I felt breathless just listening to her and smiled. She trusts me. I wondered what her father would say about any suggestions I came up with. “I don’t know of anything right off … “but I’ll work on it.”
“Thanks so much, Tempe. I gotta go. Don’t forget, the game’s at 6:30 in the gym, but come any time after two for the Mardi Gras float building and the pep rally. Just tell the guys at the door you’re family. See ya.”
“Bye,” I whispered to the dead line and gulped. Family. A warm fuzzy feeling invaded my midsection. I liked Jack Lang’s daughter way too much.
Way.
Chapter 28
He was dark and dangerous, and once again I felt the sensual pull.
* * *
Jack
A car pulled to the shoulder as I sped by, knowing they’d been about to get a ticket for speeding. Their lucky day. Peggy said, “Okay, here it is...the guy you’re supposed to see in Amity is Corporal John Westman. He was home on leave and took his kayak out in the backwater off the parish levee at Spring Bayou.”
“Where should I meet him?” I asked, looking at my map. I’d become familiar with most of the roads in Destiny in the last six months, but there were a few elsewhere I had to look up.
“He’s at the campground,” Peggy said. “Also, Mr. Thorpe called from the lab in Amity. He wants you to call him, says he has some interesting results.”
“Patch me through.”
“Yes, sir. Hold on.”
While I waited for Peggy to get Thorpe, I thought about how I would break the news to Tempe about her brother if the news in Amity wasn’t good.
Damn. Sometimes this job sucked like a flooded sewage drain.
“Sheriff? Dan Thorpe here. Got your results, though it won’t be what you’re hoping for I’m sure. The only fingerprints on the vase were Ms. Pomeroy’s, but it was not the murder weapon. The vase itself is quite unique. It’s some kind of Chinese artifact worth a fortune and really, really—really old. My advice is don’t touch it unless you’re insured with Lloyds of London.”
So Tempe hadn’t been exaggerating about the vase being old. And Thorpe’s findings confirmed I still didn’t have a weapon. Amity’s Medical Examiner filled me in on the problems he was having with the samples.
As I continued toward Amity, I thought some more about possible motives. Tempe might have had motive if Meeker had been keeping her from getting to the valuable heirloom. Or, if she suspected he had something to do with River’s disappearance. Or, if the guy was blackmailing the family over… what?
Then there was Phoebe and her roomies, cohorts, lovers, whatever. Phoebe had been seen arguing with the victim the afternoon prior to his death. Maybe they had some kind of lover’s spat. I needed more information about the other two men. If the victim had something to do with River’s disappearance, Tempe’s mother might have confronted him. When was the last time that she’d been seen? Sunday evening?
And we must not forget the brother. Yeah, yeah, even Peggy sang his praises. Of course, if River had killed the guy, he’d have taken his fancy vase. Unless he didn’t know it was there. Maybe he couldn’t smell it like his sister. I barked out a laugh remembering her lie. I hadn’t found anything that incriminated either him or her.
So unless I thought Tempe and her brother were in this together, I had to get over to her side and really start looking for her brother before she got herself into more trouble. If he wasn’t in the backwater at Spring Bayou. And if he was—I wasn’t looking forward to giving Tempe that news.
There were a lot of odd and yet-to-be-explained events involving Tempe, but they didn’t add up to murder. So for now, she was off the hook. River and Phoebe Pomeroy were another story, but I’d wait until I had more evidence. There was also the matter of the official report on River. I had a responsibility to look into River’s disappearance.
Tempe
A big, pricey looking Harley sat in the intersection two blocks from Harmony. Its driver, dressed in shiny black leather, turned his dark-visored helmet toward me as I approached then looked away. After nine years of running the mail, my attention to odd
ities—was infallible. The motorcycle rider was not from around here. And it’s a cold night for a ride, I thought as my cell bleeped again.
It was Kat. She sounded strange. “Tempe, one of the reporters called and said there was a…look, don’t jump the gun yet, okay?”
Suddenly I couldn’t hear anything except blood rushing in my ears. “I’m listening,” I whispered.
“Some guy camping down in Amity found a dead body.”
The motorcycle rider flew clean out of my head. I coasted to a stop, my hands gripping my stomach. I leaned my forehead on the wheel as tears welled.
“I said, don’t jump the gun.” She waited then perhaps thinking I’d hung up, said, “Tempe, are you there?”
Knuckling moisture from my cheeks, I took a deep breath as Kat waited on the other end of the line. I let it out. “What else?”
“They don’t even know if it’s a male or female. A call was dispatched to the sheriff’s office since it happened outside the town of Amity.”
“That’s all they know?” I was starting to panic.
“That’s it, and none of the reporters can get anywhere near the scene because the S.O. has the roads blocked off.”
“I’m familiar with Sheriff Lang’s tactics.” He’d probably added to them after dealing with me at the golf course. “Thanks, Katerina. I’ll see what I can find out.”
So here I was again, sending a message to the one person I could always count on. I sent a text, and at seven-thirty I got a response, “Pepper, meet you later at BB’s.” When exactly had he started calling me by those pet names?
Sometimes sweet, always intense and sexy, I’d thought he was as into our relationship as I was. But I’d turned the corner—literally—one morning and there he’d been, bestowing all that sexiness on Ms.103 Sweet Briar Court.
I’d thought about that moment many times, in fact, every day I turned that corner and drove past that house. He hadn’t reacted like a man caught in the act of cheating. And Ms. Sweet Briar, damn, what was her name? Well, who cares? She’d started taking her mail in a drawer at the central office. She hadn’t seemed embarrassed either, or at all shamed that she’d been caught with the object of my affection. At the time, I’d been too hurt and shocked myself to see anything other than what it had looked like on the surface. Now, I wondered.
Dylan apologized, but didn’t ask me to give him another chance, leaving me with the appalling, embarrassing feeling that he’d wanted out but hadn’t had the guts to just tell me. He’d said he just wasn’t meant for a monogamous relationship.
That hurt because I’d allowed myself to think I might have a normal life, like everyone else, including romance. Looking back, I’d have to say my parent’s relationship prepared me for failure. I hadn’t been surprised by Dylan’s betrayal. It just seemed that romance wasn’t for me.
Women loved Dylan. Men hated him. Actually, that wasn’t true. His coworkers admired and respected him. His job as a PI called for strict discipline, integrity, and a certain detachment from personal relationships.
“Listen to me, making excuses for him.” I pulled into the parking lot at BB’s lounge and shut the truck off, sitting there for a second to compose myself. Tonight would only be the second time I’d been in Dylan’s presence since the breakup, two years ago. And if I hadn’t been desperate for news of River, we wouldn’t be here now. As always rain stirred my emotions, putting me in a mood.
I walked through the open door hearing the conversations at tables and the clink of glasses behind the bar. I ordered a tonic, then after thinking about the evening ahead, the meeting with Dylan, and the impending news from Amity, I ordered a shot of tequila, and downed it feeling the burn and the satisfactory warmth, and knowing I’d regret it.
I sensed Dylan’s potent aura before I heard the heels of his boots thunk against the hardwood floor, then his shadow fell across me. With a slight tilt of my head I saw black hair wet with rain combed away from his beautifully dangerous face, his lips a mere breath from mine, so close I could see each stubbled hair on his cheek; the eyes I knew to be a rich forest green, were obsidian, wild.
Blast those pesky pheromones! Instead of remembering why we’d split, my body was begging me to jump him, the memories of our limbs entwined in a hot morning caress making it nearly impossible to maintain a facade of irritation.
“Dylan.” I pushed the glass away.
His lips crooked up at the corner and he relaxed, flopping onto the nearest barstool. He looked me over, refrained from commenting on my messy appearance. “You look stressed. I was going to buy you a drink, but it looks like you’ve had one.” His brow arched at the sight of the shot glass.
I returned his perusal, raking over the black duster where moisture steamed off that big hard body. The only obvious break in color was the shiny gold badge on the black id wallet visible between the leather lapels. He was dark and dangerous, and once again I felt the sensual pull. I rubbed my forehead, willing those thoughts away.
“What did you want to talk to me about, Persephone?”
“That’s it! Just once, could you call me by my friggin’ name?” I pushed off the stool and turned on him, fisting clumps of my hair.
He sat back, looked at me closely. “Talk to me. What’s going on,” he said.
“I need a favor, Inspector.”
He slid off his stool, motioning the bartender away with a look. “I think you’ve had enough.”
I turned on him, “Who died and made you the keeper of me?” And then I remembered what I’d learned, and a sob escaped my throat. I turned away. Get a grip. I signaled the bartender to bring me a water, and felt Dylan’s hand squeeze my shoulder gently. I didn’t mean to let him, but it felt so…comforting.
“Bad day?” His voice was a calming purr. “Bad week,” he corrected. He could be so sweet. I hated that I remembered that about him, too. “I’m sorry I was late. I’ve been on a job in Baton Rouge.” He stroked a length of my hair behind my ear.
I could have easily allowed him to shoulder my troubles. Fix everything. No, that was tequila thinking. I didn’t need the betraying bastard to fix anything for me. “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need you.”
I think he winced, but my vision was suspect.
“Come on, you need to call it a day.” He got up towering over me.
I slid off the stool, swaying just a smidgen. I was sure he didn’t notice, but then his hand settled on my hip steering me between the other stools and patrons into the fresh rain-washed night. I tripped on the uneven walkway of the porch and felt his hand on my elbow.
He said, “Tempe,” and turned me toward him. “Damn,” he muttered, looking off.
“Ah, so you do know my name,” I said.
“Look, I need to talk to you. Privately.”
I guess the dark night with only a few people coming and going from the parking lot wasn’t private enough. He led me around the side of the building. The comforting song of the rain frogs started up again as I propped myself against the outside wall. He placed both hands on either side of my head.
“This may not be the best time, but I need to say this.” His flippant manner was gone, replaced by frank sincerity. Whether he was deciding to continue or just weighing his words, I waited. He sounded different, almost humble. Huh.
“When I was on that job in Baton Rouge, I realized that I couldn’t let something happen before I got the chance to tell you…” he let out a deep breath. “…about what happened two years ago, I didn’t mean to hurt you. There were—are reasons why…”
I guess what he saw on my face he took for forgiveness, instead of shock. “Oh, hell.” His lips touched mine in a kiss reminiscent of those nights by the fire, touches drenched in desire, his body like hot steel…I groaned.
There was comfort in his kiss, and in the long overdue apology. The last few days had been a nightmare, with memories and revelations coming at me faster than I could assimilate them. Then my conversation with Aurora resurfaced. I flattened
my hands on his chest. “Dylan, no.”
I heard boots hit the porch and pushed harder.
“Well, damn. Looks like I’ve come at a bad time.”
Chapter 29
Don’t turn that black squadron commander look on me.
* * *
Tempe
I froze, recognizing Jack Lang’s voice. Dylan simply lifted his head, but stayed where he was. Sheltering me from embarrassment, or using our embrace as some kind of territorial declaration?
I broke away from him and turned. Jack’s face was hidden in the shadows. “Here I was thinking you might be worried about your brother, and I find you on a date with Diablo.
Diablo? A date? I frowned. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
His lip curled up in a sarcastic smile. “Yeah, I can see you were real worried.”
“Please, just tell me that body—” I choked.
“It was a female victim,” he said, apparently realizing that I was on the verge of losing it. I sagged against Dylan, then, realized how that looked and shook him off. I bent over with my hands on my knees and heaved with relief.
“But I have other news you might find interesting.”
“What?” Dylan didn’t lose a beat.
I stood up. Jack looked at me. “I’m surprised you didn’t recognize the man at the clubhouse. Apparently he lives in Alliance.”
“So?”
“With your mother.”
My mouth gaped open.
“The clubhouse records listed your mother’s address as his permanent address, not the apartment.”
