by Sarah Kelly
“Like what?” Xavier asked.
“All sorts,” Mark said, shaking his head. “I was a philanderer. A drunk. A fake Christian. Back then, this town was more religious. Everything revolved around the church.”
“How horrible for you,” India said. “You must have been so angry with him.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Demetria and Eric glance at each other again for a split second, their eyes filled with concern.
“I think I was the most angry,” Valerie said. “How dare he! Jim got the contract and my husband, a good man, had a bad name in the town. I took to the church to straighten it all out, you know, to the gossiping ladies who serve tea and cookies. In a couple days flat, everyone knew it was all lies, and that Mark was a good man. You wouldn’t believe how fast news used to travel in this town.”
“It’s bigger now,” Mark added. “Not quite the same.”
India stirred the cream cheese mix and added a little more powdered sugar. “Didn’t you get him back somehow? I know I would have wanted to.”
“Me, too,” Xavier said.
“Didn’t see the point,” Mark said. “What was there to gain? It would have just been vengeance. We just let it all slide by. If you hold onto the anger, it will eat you up inside. And I don’t think revenge is so sweet as most people make out.”
India looked up to nod at him, but then she saw Demetria and Eric glance at each other yet again, more worried than ever. There was definitely something going on.
A firm rapping at the door made everyone jump.
“Goodness gracious,” Valerie said. “Who would that be at this hour?”
Demetria, who was closest to the window, peeled back the curtain. India saw a flash of fear in her eyes before she composed herself. “It’s the cops.” She threw a meaningful look at Eric.
Xavier got to his feet. “I’ll get it.”
Before Xavier could even say anything to Detective Morgan, he barged past Xavier saying, “Evening to all,” in a loud, abrasive voice.
Officer Rogers hovered at the doorway and flashed Xavier a nervous smile. “May we come in, sir?” she asked, totally unnecessarily.
“Of course,” Xavier said, and she stepped in, still looking a bit like a rabbit caught in the headlights.
“We have another line of enquiry, and had come to question Mark Bradford about it, but since you’re all here…” Detective Morgan said. “Oh, Eric, didn’t I see you yesterday?”
Eric looked up at him, his large shoulders held firm. “Wasn’t it Thursday night you called me in?”
“No, it was definitely yesterday,” Detective Morgan said. “Anyhow, as I briefly mentioned to you, Eric, yesterday, there might indeed be a connection between an incident four years ago, and his untimely death.”
“What incident?” Valerie asked, sitting up on the chaise longue.
Detective Morgan looked at Officer Rogers pointedly.
“Oh,” she said, then scrambled in a small file she held to her chest, eventually retrieving a piece of paper, which Detective Morgan promptly snatched.
“Blah blah blah,” he said, as his eyes scanned over the paper. “Jim Quinn crashed his car into a tree and sustained damage to his leg.”
“Oh yes, I remember that, at the end of the street at the intersection,” Mark said. “He thought the brakes had been tampered with.”
“Kindly don’t do my job,” Detective Morgan snapped. “I was coming to that. His brakes were completely useless, and a thorough police inspection of the vehicle did indeed show evidence of tampering.”
“But you never caught anybody?” Valerie asked.
Detective Morgan seemed to take that as a personal insult. “It was not my case,” he said icily. “Am I meant to be superman, solving cases that are not even assigned to me?”
“When they returned the car back to him, I remember he insisted on getting it fixed, do you remember, Valerie?” Mark said, trying to defuse the tension. “Because it was some rare something or other. Anyways, you took a look at it, didn’t you, Eric?”
Eric shifted his weight, straightening one of his bulky arms, his huge palm flat against the floor. “I used to be a car mechanic in my younger days. It did look a little suspicious. He had a lot of enemies. I wouldn’t put it past any of them.”
“Yes,” Detective Morgan said, then looked directly at Mark. “Like you.”
Mark frowned. “I wasn’t—”
“You’ve tried to hide your feud from us, but I find out everything.” Detective Morgan raised his chin, his eyes gleaming. “So, do you have anything to confess?”
“No,” Mark said firmly. “Nothing at all. My conscience is clear. We have no information to add regarding the incident four years ago, or the recent incident. I am recovering from finding his body in my truck, but otherwise, nothing has changed. Is there anything else?”
Everyone could see the rage building in Detective Morgan’s face, including Officer Rogers, who kept casting nervous glances at him. “No, that’s all, thank you,” she hurried to say. “We’ll be in touch. Please do call us if you remember anything pertinent.”
Detective Morgan stormed past and out the door. Officer Rogers gave an apologetic smile before she followed after him. “Have a good evening.”
Eric eased up from his seat and nodded at Demetria. “I think we’d better be making a move, too.”
Demetria yawned, and India was sure it was fake. “Good idea, honey. I’m getting so tired.”
***
“I’m telling you,” India said, trying not to damage the cake as they walked toward the entrance of the Belle Côte Resort, “there was something seriously weird about how Eric and Demetria were acting last night.”
Xavier still looked dubious. “You keep saying that, and I don’t doubt you. It’s just… maybe they were worried about paying the mortgage, or something totally different. I’ve known them practically my whole life. I can’t imagine them having anything to do with this.”
India was unconvinced. “That’s what the neighbors always say when it turns out the quiet, innocent, normal family next door have been hacking people up into little bits and burying them in the garden.”
“India!”
“I’m not saying they did that,” India said. “I just saw it on some show once, you know, the life of serial killers or something like that.”
There was an edge to Xavier’s voice as they walked in the hotel entrance. “Your imagination is running away with itself. Yes, there is a tiny chance they killed him. But there’s a tiny chance I killed him, too, or my dad. Heck, or even you. These people are like my family, India.”
India said nothing as they went through the lobby, but her brain was still whirring with questions. Whether or not Eric and Demetria were involved, they were definitely hiding something.
A different cheery receptionist was at the desk, a scarf tied around her neck. Her name tag read Kris. “Good morning,” she said, too brightly, India thought. “How can I help?”
“We’re looking for Rodney Quinn,” India said. “We’re delivering a cake to him.”
“Ooh, I’m Rodney Quinn!” Kris said, raising her hand. “Cake, please.”
India and Xavier laughed, and India found herself warming to Kris. “Not sure this one will be any good,” she said. “Xavier’s mom and sister bake up a storm, but this is my creation. I’m hoping it will pass for cake, at least.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Kris said, patting India’s hand she’d rested on the counter. She then typed on the computer. “Now, Rodney Quinn is in Suite 401. But it appears he has a spa booking at this time. Perhaps you’d like to leave the cake here, and I’ll make sure it gets to him.” She looked up at them, and misread their hesitance. Flashing them a smile, she said, “I won’t eat it, I promise!”
“Oh,” India said, her face falling. “We were asked, you know, by Xavier’s mother, to deliver it personally.”
“Yes,” Xavier said. “It’s the unique selling point of her bakery busines
s. Each item is delivered in person.”
Kris smiled. “All right. The spa is down this corridor all the way to the end, which will lead you to the pool area outside. Keep going past the pool all the way to a traditional looking building, it has a large thatched roof, and dark colored wooden walls. That’s the spa. You can sit in the waiting room until he comes out.”
“Perfect,” India said. “Thanks. Ooh, just one thing. Kris, can I check something with you please, if that’s all right?”
Kris was all smiles. “Sure.”
With that all taken care of, Xavier and India followed her directions and were soon stepping into a warm, dim, atmospheric room, where sweet and musky scents blended and wafted around. India smelled jasmine, and vanilla, and perhaps honeysuckle. The shutters were closed, and the lights were set to low. Coming out of the bright sunlight meant it took a couple of minutes for their eyes to adjust. Tall white candles in glass jars flickered around the place, and the room was mostly bare apart from long, comfortable couches, and a tiny waterfall feature on the wall that tinkled quietly as the water made its descent.
“Hello,” a soft voice cooed, just audible above the atmospheric music, which interspersed long synthesized notes with the echoing sound of a faraway gong.
Xavier and India looked over to the desk, to see a man in a cream colored aesthetician uniform.
“Hi,” India said in a voice just above a whisper. That was what seemed appropriate there. “We’ve come to deliver a cake for Rodney Quinn.”
“In person,” Xavier hurried to add. “We need to speak to him as well.”
“All right,” the man said in a calm voice. He was exceptionally well groomed and relaxed. No wonder, working there, India thought. “He’s just started his rejuvenating ginger face mask, and then he’s booked in for a full body massage. You would be waiting for a long time. Let me go pop in there, and ask him what he would like to do.”
“Thank you,” Xavier said.
“Take a seat in the meantime,” the man said, with a gesture toward the comfortable looking chairs.
A few moments later, he reappeared. “He asks if you would come in. It’s not normal spa practice,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “But since the customer insists, I suppose—”
“Thank you,” Xavier said, patting him on the arm as they came closer. “We won’t take long.”
“Second door on the left.”
It was rather incongruous, India thought, as they stepped in, to see Rodney, who was usually so unkempt and sullen, caring about his appearance all of a sudden. He looked like the last man on earth who would be into self care. And yet, there he was, reclined on a spa bed, his face slathered with a thick cream. However, there were no cucumber slices, and his dark eyes were filled with suspicion as they flicked over to the door.
“I’ve finished what I need to do for now,” a young woman aesthetician said in a soothing tone to Rodney, like she was trying to get a baby to sleep. “I’ll leave you with your guests and return in fifteen minutes, when the mask has had the chance to do its healing work.”
“Yeah,” Rodney said, his scratchy unrefined voice a total contrast with hers. “Thanks.” As soon as she was gone, he stared at them. “Why are you here? You’re… you won’t kill me, you know.”
India sighed and slid down onto a chair at the side of the room. “You’re the second person to think we’re going to kill them. We look like murderers or something?”
“There’s a murderer on the loose,” Rodney said with some scorn. “How am I to know who it is?”
Xavier put the bag down next to where Rodney’s clothes were folded up in a neat pile, by the aesthetician, no doubt. “We brought you a carrot cake.”
Rodney’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Well, because the last cake we brought was for both you and your mother,” India said. “And then you said you didn’t like it. So… we thought it was unfair for you to miss out.”
“Why would you care?” he asked, looking up at the ceiling.
Xavier shrugged. “This has been tough on everyone, but I mean… he was your father. And your mother being attacked and all…”
India watched Rodney’s adam’s apple, covered in cream, bob as he swallowed. “Thanks,” he said hoarsely. “Well, anything else?”
India knew they couldn’t just turn around and leave without probing. Though it was a risk, she desperately wanted him to talk. Hoping she was doing the right thing, and sending a quick message to Luis or the energy or whoever else would listen, asking them to guide her in the right direction, she said, “You’re hiding something, Rodney.”
Rodney sat up straight and stared at her. “No, I’m not.”
Even Xavier gawped, eyes wide.
India felt some fear flutter in her chest, but she pressed on regardless. “Yes, you are. Ever since I first saw you, at the house with your parents, I knew something was wrong. You’ve got a secret.” She watched him closely, and saw panic flicker in his eyes, though his face was deadpan. “Guilt on your conscience.”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Rodney said hurriedly.
India instinctively knew that letting the silence swell around them would draw anything out of him. And sure enough, after a few seconds, he said, “Yes. Yes, there is something. Okay?”
CHAPTER 9
“What is it you need to tell us, Rodney?” Xavier said in his sternest cop voice.
“I don’t need to tell you anything,” Rodney said, but his voice was trembling and India knew he’d crack with just the tiniest bit of pressure.
“You killed your father, didn’t you?” India said.
“No!”
“Pushed him off the balcony. Then you attacked your mother down at the beach.”
“I did not do any such thing!”
“Yes, you did,” India said. “To get your hands on their money.”
Rodney stood up, desperation on his face. “No, no, no, it’s not that! I swear, I had nothing to do with my father’s death. Or with the attack on my mother. It’s just…”
“Spill it quickly,” Xavier warned. “We don’t want you spinning any stories on us.”
“Okay,” Rodney said with a deep breath, sitting back on the spa bed. “I did steal some of my father’s money. When he was in bed with the cancer I started taking just a little bit here, a little bit there.”
“Why?” India said. “Couldn’t you just have gotten a job?”
“Didn’t your parents financially support you anyways?” Xavier asked.
“It… wasn’t for the money, if you can believe that,” Rodney said. “I… I don’t know.”
India had watched a fascinating TV program on kleptomaniacs once. “You liked the thrill? The buzz?”
Rodney looked down at his hands. “Yeah. Then he started walking around and obsessing about turning the neighborhood into his hotel, even though the doctors said he needed to relax. He started refusing chemotherapy and getting mad with everyone and everything, and that’s when he noticed the money was gone.”
“Refusing chemotherapy?” Xavier asked. “Thought he was in remission?”
“That’s what he kept telling everyone,” Rodney said. “But it was a lie. He would probably have died in a couple months’ time anyhow.”
“Wow,” India said. “So why did he keep pushing on his tourism thing?”
“Denial is a serious drug.” In a fit of frustration, Rodney grabbed a towel next to him and wiped all the cream off his face in rough movements. “He found the money gone, and got mad with my mom.”
“He suspected her?” India asked. “Don’t they share money? Does she have any of her own?”
A dark cloud sank down over Rodney’s face. “No. He controlled all the money and me and my mom just had to put up with it. I heard him yelling at her. I was mad. So I took the rest of the money. Completely cleaned out the safe. And left a note saying Thanks, sucker. I put random initials on it, so he wouldn’t think it was mom.” His voice cracked. “But he still
blamed her. And it’s all my fault.”
The way Rodney spoke, India guessed he didn’t have a soul in the world to talk to. It sounded like he was expressing himself for the very first time. She began to feel sorry for him. “What happened after that?” India said softly.
“He died. It was just the other day I took the money.”
“Where is the money now?” Xavier asked. “What did you do with it?”
“Nothing,” he said, “just put it in another part of the house. I didn’t want the money. I wanted to piss off my so-called father.”
“So-called?” India asked
“He’s my father in terms of biology,” Rodney said. “But nothing else. I hate him.” After the pause that followed, he added, “But I did not kill him.”
India nodded. A new thought came to her mind. “Did you know he was having an affair?”
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Rodney sneered. “But no, I didn’t know. With who? Who in their right mind would want to be with that man?”
“We have our ideas,” Xavier said. “But we’re not sure. Anyways, thanks for talking to us, Rodney. Maybe we’ll see you back in the neighborhood some time soon?”
Rodney took a long breath out. “Mother and I are going back to the house tonight, to collect some more of our things, with a police escort,” he said. “But I’m not sure we’ll ever go back there long term.”
“Too many bad memories?” India asked.
He just nodded, looking like all the life had been sucked out of him.
Xavier walked over and patted him on the shoulder. “Well, try and enjoy your cake, buddy. Sorry about… bringing this all up.”
India loved Xavier’s caring nature, and, to her surprise, Rodney seemed to respond well, looking up at Xavier and giving him a small smile.
“Thanks,” Rodney said. “See you.”
***
“Okay,” India said, clutching the napkin. She and Xavier had stayed in the environs of Belle Côte and stumbled upon a sweet little Italian restaurant. Of course they’d both plumped for pizza, though this restaurant provided them with something much more authentic than their usual American deep dish. With stonebaked crusts, a much lighter sprinkling of mozarella, and an authentic Italian sauce, the pizzas there were on a whole new level. India had polished hers off much quicker than Xavier, and she’d taken out a pen to write on the napkin.
