I ignored Mr. TV’s question and fell back to one of my original arguments. “You can’t suspect everyone who passes by the store. We don’t even know if they knew each other.”
“But they did,” Bree insisted, her voice rising. “Colin had some type of information Mason wanted.”
Darby knocked over Bree’s glass. Cold water rushed across the table, straight for MacAvoy. He jumped up, mumbling something under his breath. My guess was that it wasn’t suitable for broadcasting.
I quickly pulled a handful of napkins from the metal container and sopped up the mess. How did Bree know Colin? I studied Darby from under my lashes as I dried off the table. She looked shell-shocked.
“I’m so sorry,” Darby muttered. She grabbed her own pile of napkins and handed them to Mr. TV.
“Don’t worry about it,” I reassured her. “Accidents happen.” I piled the sopping napkins at the end of the table. Looking at Bree and her insistence that Colin had something Mason wanted, I realized she was more than a loyal Hot Handbags customer. She had to have known Mason on a more personal level.
“How do you know all of this? How well did you know Mason?” I asked.
She shrugged one shoulder. “As well as any other customer, I suppose.”
I shook my head. “No. I have loyal customers, too. They don’t know intimate information about my life. Just trivial gossip.”
“If you don’t mind, this is my meeting.” Mr. TV glared at me.
If I believed he was competent to uncover the truth, I’d let him ask the questions. But his goal and my goal were at odds. I wanted the truth; he wanted ratings.
I pulled out my phone and snapped a quick photo of Bree.
“Hey,” she screeched. “What are you doing?” She smoothed the sides of her hair then pulled her rope braid over her shoulder. Too late to primp now, sweetheart.
“I can easily confirm with Quinn if you’re really a loyal customer by showing her this photo of you.”
MacAvoy looked impressed with my quick thinking. Bree, on the other hand, looked terrified.
I rattled off a litany of questions. “So let’s try this again. How are you connected to Mason? Why were you with Betty at the scene when he was found? And why did you leave so abruptly? Did you push him down the stairs?”
Bree’s bottom lip trembled; her eyes filled with unshed tears. My barrage of questions was too much for her. She broke down. “No. I loved him,” she burst out.
I looked at MacAvoy. This was all news to him. He frantically jotted notes. Where was his fancy voice recorder?
“You were having an affair?” Darby clarified.
Bree nodded. “He was leaving Quinn.”
That would explain why he’d sell the store to Leo. It seemed Quinn was right, and Mason was hiding assets from her.
MacAvoy looked up from his notes. “Back to this information Colin had, what was it?”
She shrugged. “Mason never said. Just that Colin was a ghost from his past that he wanted gone once and for all.”
Ghost from the past? Wasn’t that what Quinn had whispered yesterday right before she ran outside like a lunatic yelling into the crowd?
Chapter Sixteen
I TEXTED BETTY THAT I’d be in late. She assured me everything was under control. Her version of under control and mine were vastly different, but at the moment I didn’t have much of a choice.
Darby was more quiet than normal on the walk back to the coffee shop where we’d left our cars. I knew she was preoccupied thinking about Bree’s accusation about Colin. I glanced at my best friend who walked next to me.
“If Bree is telling the truth, and she was having an affair with Mason, everything she says is suspect. She could be making it all up as a cover for herself.”
Darby stared straight ahead. “I know. But it’s obvious she’s telling the truth about Colin knowing Mason. Why wouldn’t he have said something? Mason’s death has been all over the news, and he didn’t mention once that he knew him. Doesn’t that sound like he’s hiding something to you?”
Well of course it did, but I didn’t want to admit it to her. It was also possible he wasn’t hiding anything and Bree had misconstrued the whole situation. Possible, but the probability was marginal at best.
“Are you going to talk to him?”
She glanced at me and caught my eye. “Of course.”
I wanted first crack at dragging answers out of Colin, but it was only fair that as his girlfriend, Darby should interrogate him first.
I elbowed her. “If you’d like back-up, you know where to find me. Remember, if we find out he’s guilty of something, I did promise him I’d make him pay if he hurt you.”
She chuckled half-heartedly. “I remember.”
Once we arrived back at the Koffee Klatch, we parted ways. I headed to the boutique and Darby to her studio. She promised to call once she’d talked to Colin.
When I entered the shop, the scent of lemon furniture polish competed with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. Agent James, who was wearing cargo pants and a dark green t-shirt, was on his knees dusting the wooden shelves that stored the dog vests. I smiled. Poor guy. I’m sure that wasn’t how he imagined his first undercover case would unfold.
Betty stood on a small stepstool cleaning the fingerprints off the glass display case. True to her word, Betty had it all in hand, ruling with an iron fist.
She looked up as I entered. “Cookie, it’s about time you got here. That sexy detective was looking for you.”
It’s never a good sign when the homicide detective seeks you out two days in row. I pulled my cell phone out of my bag and set it on the counter next to the register. “Is he coming back?”
“He said he’d find you.”
Oh, I was sure he would. I stashed my handbag in the office. I noticed Agent James had left his backpack under the desk. I resisted the urge to look inside. I hurried out of the room before I gave in to temptation.
I grabbed the can of furniture polish from Agent James. “Looks great. Can you make sure the coffee bar is stocked? In fact, I think we might need to pick up more to-go cups. Can you check in the storeroom?”
“Of course.” He brushed off his pants then headed toward the back.
“Betty, where’s the organic polish I brought in last week?”
“That was junk. I’ve been using this brand for fifty years, and I ain’t dead yet.”
I sighed. Furniture polish wasn’t worth fighting over.
My cell rang. Before I could reach for it, Betty glanced over and looked at the caller ID. She started making kissing noises.
“Stop,” I said, knowing immediately it had to be Grey.
I grabbed it before Betty decided to answer it for me. No telling what she’d say or commit me to.
“Hey, there.”
“I’m bored.” Grey’s voice drifted through the receiver. “I can’t sit around and do nothing. Would you like to have an early dinner?”
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. “Wow, that’s a flattering invitation.”
“Sorry, that didn’t come out right.” I could image him pacing along his back deck, coffee in one hand, rubbing his neck in frustration with the other hand.
I looked over my shoulder. Betty propped her elbows on the counter, her face resting in the palms of her hands, blatantly eavesdropping.
I glared at her. She smiled, not moving an inch.
“I have a new intern. Tom James.” I sounded more chipper than normal. I hoped he would understand what I was trying to say.
“You’re not alone?”
“Betty’s making sure I don’t hang up on you.”
“What about James?”
“Oh, you know how those young interns are. Would rather spend their mornings surfing than working.”
<
br /> I could see him rubbing his face in exasperation. “That’s the second time you said ‘intern’. Has there been a change in plans?”
“Sort of.” I eyed Betty who closed her eyes and puckered her lips.
“Are you telling me he is inexperienced?” Grey asked.
“Exactly.”
“I’m going to get drunk.”
I chuckled. “No you’re not. Darby and I learned a few things I want to run past you. Where do you want to meet for dinner?”
Betty straightened. “We should double date.”
I shook my head.
“Party pooper,” she huffed.
“I thought I’d pick you up.” Grey’s bland tone didn’t fool me.
My stomach tightened. I wanted my own wheels, in case I needed to make a hasty exit. “Let’s meet. How about Charlie’s Place at six?”
“I’ll see you then.”
The next six hours were going to feel like a lifetime.
BETTY NEEDED TO run her personal errand at the usual time. Unlike Grey, Agent James took frequent breaks. I had a feeling they were case related. Betty thought he had a prostate problem and needed to be seen by a doctor.
I sent Agent James to pick up coffee bar supplies. He seemed happy for the excuse to get out of the shop. I had to give him credit. He had quickly become a hit with my customers. Maybe the bureau knew what they were doing after all.
Colin sent me a collection of photos of him and Missy. Not driving home to confront him about Mason killed me. But I told Darby I’d let her talk to him first. I would keep my word.
The afternoon dragged. Every time I caught myself thinking about dinner with Grey, I made myself donate one hundred dollars to the ARL. They were about to receive a hefty donation.
The boutique experienced a large amount of traffic throughout the afternoon, but not much sold merchandise left the store. Everyone wanted to know the latest scoop on Mason’s death. Since Betty and I had been involved in previous homicide cases, people assumed we had the inside information.
At five o’clock, Betty skipped out the door. I dropped off the bank deposit and then drove home to get ready for dinner with Grey. I reprimanded myself for being excited, but my heart wasn’t listening.
In the words of a popular pop song, the heart wants what the heart wants.
Chapter Seventeen
I TOOK MORE CARE getting ready for dinner than I wanted to admit. As much as I told myself this was nothing more than comparing notes and filling him in on his replacement, that didn’t stop the butterflies. I didn’t want to overdress, but I wanted to look good. I finally decided on a navy-blue jumpsuit with a wrap bodice. Then I slipped on a pair of toffee-colored ankle strapped heels.
I left my hair down, allowing it to fall over my shoulders, and I applied minimal makeup—a swipe of mascara and tinted lip gloss.
I checked the finished look in the full-length mirror. Oh! One last very important item. I pulled my Alexander McQueen’s skull clutch out of the closet. I’d compared the two and didn’t find any dissimilarity. I wasn’t sure the photos I’d taken at Hot Handbags would be of use, but it was worth a try.
I made sure Missy had fresh water and tossed her a couple of dried apples. After she demanded an extra belly rub and scratch behind the ears, she trailed off to her bed.
I gingerly climbed into the Jeep, then made my way toward the restaurant, purposely keeping my mind from drifting to the past. Within fifteen minutes, I had arrived. Six o’clock on the nose. I walked inside and spied Grey, a relaxed smile on his face. Some things would never change, and his promptness was one of them.
He’d worn my favorite indigo poplin shirt that set off his blue eyes, paired with charcoal-colored trousers. My favorite look—sexy and dangerous.
His eyes locked on mine. I felt my cheeks warm.
“You’re beautiful.” His voice sounded calm compared to the jumble of emotions I was experiencing.
I smiled slightly. “You clean up pretty good yourself.”
“No more three-day bender?” His eyes twinkled with humor.
I winced. “That was a bit harsh. Sorry about that.”
He kissed my cheek lightly and whispered in my ear, “In case anyone is watching.”
My smile faltered. “Of course.”
The hostess called our name and swept us off to our table through the well-lit dining room humming with relaxed chatter and soft background music. Charlie’s Place was the quintessential Laguna experience. Local art hung on the walls, next to collectable photographs of old Hollywood celebrities. The staff, friendly and warm. Amazing food without emptying your wallet. A local favorite when a lovely and unique experience was on the menu.
Ever the gentleman, Grey assisted me with my chair before sitting himself. The hostess handed each of us a menu and then returned to her post at the front of the bistro.
“Do you need to look at the menu, or should we get our usual?” Grey asked, a glimmer of adventure in his eyes.
Could it still be your usual if you hadn’t eaten it in over a year? I laid my menu at the edge of the table, accepting the challenge. “I’m always up for fondue.”
Our waitress arrived with a complimentary bread basket, the yeasty smell tantalizing my nose. My stomach growled. Once we placed our order, our waitress left to fetch our cocktails. She returned a short time later with our drinks. Red wine for me, Scotch for Grey.
I picked at the white table cloth, working hard to tune out the tension flickering between us.
Ice cubes cracked against the glass as Grey sipped his Scotch. “Tell me about Agent Tom James.”
I filled him in on what had happed, including the day’s events with Mr. TV and Bree Young, while he sipped his drink.
I wrapped up with my thoughts about Colin. “I think he’s hiding something. I always have.”
He studied me closely. “You’ve been busy.”
“I’ve been lucky. I’ll have to talk to Malone tomorrow. He stopped by the shop today before I arrived.”
Grey waved over the waitress to bring us a couple of glasses of water. “He’s not going to be happy with you.”
I scoffed. “I’m used to it by now. I don’t have any hard evidence, but I do have information he can follow up on. Oh, speaking of information . . .” I pulled out my cell and opened the photo app.
I pushed aside his tumbler, making room for my handbag. “Now, don’t get upset. I took a photo of a purse at Hot Handbags. It’s the same style as the one I’m carrying right now. This is the real deal. I thought maybe you’d like to compare the two.” I handed him my phone. “I don’t see any differences, but I don’t know what I’m looking for.”
He thoroughly compared the two before handing my phone and bag back to me. “It’s hard to tell, but from what I can see, Quinn has an original.”
“Darn.”
“Don’t let on to Agent James—”
“Have more faith in me than that.” I cut him off before he said something offensive and ruined the night.
Our veggie and meat plates arrived first, followed by a large pot of piping-hot Gruyere cheese. We chatted easily about my trip to Dallas and my mama. What it would be like to see my baby niece. We talked about his most recent trip to New York where he attended an art auction and had bought a number of fabulous pieces he thought I’d like.
I recounted Betty’s crazy flirting with Leo and how Leo seemed to be knee deep in the drama at Hot Handbags. Grey listened intently, but never gave away if I was telling him anything he didn’t already know. I appreciated that he didn’t tell me to keep my nose clean or attempt to change the subject.
I was in the middle of a Quinn story when he placed his hand on top of mine, the warmth of his touch effectively stopping me mid-sentence.
He smiled softly. “She’s
right behind you. Don’t turn around.”
I blinked, concentrating on what he’d said. I pulled my hand back and fluffed my hair. “Is she alone?”
“At the moment.” To the other diners, it would seem Grey was gazing into my eyes, hanging on my every word. In reality, I knew there was an internal debate happening. He finally came to a conclusion. “How do you want to handle it?”
The knowledge that he’d made a conscious choice to not only work with me, but to ask my opinion, was exhilarating. “I guess it depends. I can take you to her table and introduce you, making her feel cornered. Or I could get up to use the restroom and bring her here to introduce you, making it her idea while giving her the sense of easy escape.”
He nodded with a smile. “Go get her.”
I set my napkin on the table and excused myself. I felt lightheaded as I walked toward Quinn. I was sure it was the wine and had nothing to do with Grey’s trust in me.
Quinn, dressed in a bright-red pantsuit and strappy heels, had her head down, frantically texting on her phone.
“Hello,” I greeted her.
She lifted her head, her eyes suddenly suspicious. “Are you following me?”
I pointed to where Grey sat alone. “No, we’ve been here a while. I was just on my way to the restroom when I saw you on your phone.”
She frowned. “Is that Grey Donovan? I thought you two weren’t an item anymore?”
I shrugged. “We’re going to give it one more try. Too much history and all that.” The lie no longer felt like deception. I pushed that thought aside. Maybe I’d unpack it later to examine what that meant, but not now. For now I had to focus on Quinn. “I guess we have you and Mason to thank. Your whole ordeal is what pushed us together.”
She mulled that over. “Introduce us.” She started toward Grey.
I blocked her pathway. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. If you’re going to yell at him, I don’t think I want you to talk to him.” I crossed my arms. I couldn’t make it too easy for her; she had to work for it.
She lifted her chin. “I’m not a hooligan.”
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