by Winnie Reed
“Yes, it is rather unfortunate.” I thought he might have been trying to hide a smile. “Well, I’m sorry about that. But just because you’re cooling your jets right now doesn’t mean you should turn your energy toward trying to solve this case. I would appreciate if you would leave it up to me.”
“How am I supposed to leave it up to you when you have the wrong man sitting in jail?”
“Did it ever occur to you that there’s evidence you’re unaware of? That maybe, just maybe, you don’t know everything about this?” Just like that, he went back to being the guy he’d been before. Brusque, difficult. He stood, going to the door, opening it without much flourish. “And as I’ve said many times already, I’m very busy. I’ve given you all the time I can spare.”
“You have the wrong man,” I whispered, rising. “I’m sure of it.”
“Thank you for your expert opinion, but it’s time for you to go. And by the way, I was under the impression that you’re staying in Cape Hope, under your father’s supervision. Stay away from Paradise City unless I ask you to come in for more questions.”
Oh, my cheeks burned with the heat of a million suns. And the thing about me was, I tended to cry when I was really and truly angry. That futile sort of anger, anger that couldn’t be expressed without dreadful repercussions. Having to hold it in was the worst, having nothing to do with all that furious energy.
Since I couldn’t scream it out, it tended to come out in the form of tears. Hot, stinging, frustrated, humiliated tears.
They prickled behind my eyes, threatening to make themselves known. I barely managed to blink them back as I summoned every ounce of dignity I could gather. “I haven’t needed my father’s supervision in a long time,” I informed him in an icy tone. “I don’t appreciate you making me out to be a child. I’m a grown woman. I don’t need anyone to supervise me.”
His face fell just a tad, and his mouth opened like he was about to apologize or at least admit he’d misspoken. But I was not about to give him the opportunity, since there was a good chance I was about to burst into tears and didn’t want to further humiliate myself.
Instead, I turned on my heel and practically ran to the door, then flew down the stairs. It wasn’t until I reached the sidewalk that I even drew a breath, and when I did, it was shaky. Ragged.
What was I thinking, coming here? I should’ve known someone as stubborn and pigheaded as Detective Joe Sullivan wasn’t about to listen to anything I had to say. Would it kill the man take me seriously? I had real insight into the supposed killer, and he treated me like I was nobody. Like a baby who needed Daddy’s supervision.
I drew a few deep breaths, welcoming the fresh air into my lungs. It was so stuffy and dry in that station. No wonder everybody was in a bad mood.
There was a park across the street from the station, and the squealing of children caught my attention. Kids never failed to turn my mood around, and this was no exception. I crossed the street rather than heading back to my car, knowing if I didn’t find a way to release my anger I would only stew the entire way home.
Encased in canvas sneakers, my feet slapped the sidewalk. It was going to be a warm day, so I removed my cardigan and knotted it around my waist. There was something satisfying about the feel of sun on my bare arms and shoulders. Maybe I would finally get a little color after a long winter.
I smiled at the kids on the swing set begging the grown-ups to push them higher and higher. I used to be that way, too. I always wanted to see if I could touch the sky. Or at least go all the way around the top bar.
If I’d ever gone all the way around the top bar, I probably would’ve let go of the seat in utter shock and that would’ve been the end of that. No more swing sets for Emma.
It was a flash of auburn hair which first caught my attention. The sort of shade that tended to draw the eye, especially in the sun. I looked at the person that hair belonged to and something snapped into place.
He was the sous chef. I recognized not only his hair, but the wooden gauges in his earlobes and the tattoo on the nape of his neck. He walked with his head down, hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts, in a hurry to get somewhere.
I was after him before I knew what I was doing. “Excuse me!” I called out as I jogged behind him. “Excuse me, haven’t I seen you before?”
Chapter Seventeen
“Rob’s a good guy.” Kyle Norris sat across from me on the threadbare sofa, dead in the center with his arms stretched out to either side. They were long enough—or the sofa was small enough—that he nearly spanned the entire length from fingertip to fingertip.
“I agree. I’m devastated by this, honestly. Have you known him long?”
“A few years.” He was very vague, this sous chef of Robbie’s. Kind enough to invite me over to talk about the case, but otherwise not forthcoming.
He lived in one of the apartment complexes I’d taken note of on the way to the police station. A long, squat building. Brown brick. Inside, the apartment was small but serviceable, with the sort of furniture that told me it had come with the place. Undistinguished, old, very much used.
But it was clean, and I got the impression the young man sitting in front of me had struggled even to get this far.
“Did you study formally?” I asked. “I know Robbie—sorry, Rob, it’s a bad habit—studied all over, but some restaurant workers learn in the kitchen. Hands-on. Which were you?”
“Hands-on,” he grinned. “I started as a dishwasher when I was in high school and worked my way up.”
“That’s really cool. My mom has a café—that’s how I know Rob, of course—and I know how hard that alone was. I can’t imagine working in an actual full restaurant.”
“It’s not easy,” he admitted. “But it’s probably the only thing that’s ever made sense to me, you know? School and all that?” He waved a dismissive hand.
“It’s not for everybody,” I allowed.
“Yeah, well, I wish somebody had told me that years ago. I could work myself to death in school and not get anywhere. It never made any sense to me. Or I could work myself to death in a kitchen and actually earn a living and have a decent life. I was never gonna go to college or anything like that. It’s not me. But then I got in trouble, like, five years ago. I met Rob after I got out, and he offered me a job working under him once he got his own place.” He sighed. “Look how that turned out.”
I couldn’t get a feel for the guy. He seemed sincere enough, but was he? What had he done time for? It was none of my business. Besides, plenty of people learned their lesson after going to jail and they didn’t deserve to be punished for the rest of their lives. That didn’t make him a killer.
Though it did make me wonder if I should maybe have learned a little bit about this guy before I accepted his invitation to visit his apartment. Alone.
“I’m sure that once they find who really did this, Rob will be free and the restaurant can open.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands still. They kept moving, fingers flexing, fists tightening and loosening. I couldn’t take my eyes off them. Was it a violent crime he had been locked up for? Those hands could easily strangle a person.
“Yeah, but what about the resort? I talked to some of the people who had jobs there. Housekeeping, you know. They haven’t heard anything. It’s like everything just stopped. Even once it opens, if it opens, is anybody gonna want to come?”
“For one thing, I think they will. People are morbid.”
He laughed. “That’s true. I already had a few people who knew I was gonna start working at the restaurant stop me and ask if I saw the body or what.”
“I guess things aren’t so different here than they are in Cape Hope.” I smirked. “I can’t tell you how many people have already stopped me, thanks to my mom telling them I found James Flynn’s body. I sort of want to tell them to get lives, you know?”
“Yeah, I know.” He looked at me, sizing me up.
He was decent looking, I guessed, if a little rough around the edges. He had been clean-shaven on Friday, but now sported uneven stubble along his cheeks and chin. He needed a haircut, his auburn locks curling over his ears and neck.
As usual, it was the eyes that drew me in, and his were dark and hard. He was a guy who had seen things in his life, unpleasant things. I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out the question at the forefront of my mind. Why was he in jail?
And I guessed Joe and his team must’ve known Kyle had spent time in jail. He had to have a record somewhere. With that in mind, in as sympathetic a tone as I could muster, I asked, “Have they brought you in for questioning? I was in twice.”
He frowned deeply, throwing himself back against the couch cushions, staring at the scarred coffee table. “Yeah. I was in there talking with that Joe What’s-His-Name. Not my favorite guy. Kind of a dick.”
“Believe me, I agree with you there. So he gave you a hard time, too?”
“He had me there for three hours that first night. Three straight hours. I didn’t know which way was up. I’d been working all week straight, prepping for the opening. Both me and Rob were half out of our minds, exhausted. We were excited, too, you know? There was something to work toward. I thought I was on my way to Easy Street.”
“How so?”
He shrugged, looking around at the beige walls, devoid of decoration. “What you do think? With a steady job, decent pay—Rob was really generous, he wanted to make sure his staff was taken care of—I could leave this place and move into a decent apartment. Someplace nicer. Maybe even rent a little house, who knows? I was really looking forward to it.”
And I was sure his story could be repeated word for word by countless people. Whoever had plunged the knife into James’s chest may as well have plunged it into the chest of every other person contracted to work at the resort. “That’s terrible. I’m sorry. But I’m sure it’s only temporary.”
“Yeah, but if they don’t find out who really did it, and if somebody doesn’t step up and take charge of the resort, what are they gonna do? They’ll probably have to sell it, I guess, and it’ll take forever to change hands and all that.”
“Hmm. Good point.” I was starting to wonder if I had the wrong person in mind for the murder. Here was a guy who had a lot to lose. Every employee had a lot riding on this. Granted, maybe not everybody had thought things through beforehand, especially if they had enough of a problem with James.
That was why crimes of passion were called crimes of passion. They weren’t crimes of thoughtfulness.
“I have a confession to make,” I murmured, placing the iced tea which Kyle had so generously provided on a coaster. I had to give it to him, he did his best to keep the place tidy. Most men living on their own wouldn’t be that way. “I was in the kitchen when James tore into you and the rest of the staff on Friday night.”
Instantly, his face changed. His brows drew together, his nostrils flared. “Oh, really? Is that what this is all about?”
“No! No, not at all. I just want to tell you that I felt bad for you that night, that’s all. It seemed like he had a really bad temper. I kept trying to tell Joe about it, but he didn’t seem to take it very seriously. He only cared that Rob and James had a little argument afterward. I don’t blame Rob at all, I would’ve told him to mind his own business, too.”
“That was one thing they butted heads about a lot. James couldn’t stay out of Rob’s business. He didn’t know the first thing about running a kitchen. It was obvious. Rob was the expert, and he tried to be nice about it first. He really did. I guess after a while, everybody eventually reaches the breaking point. He finally had enough of it.”
I didn’t know if he was referring to the argument or if he actually believed his boss—somebody willing to take a chance on him and give him a second start in life—was a cold-blooded killer. Or maybe I was sitting in front of the killer right now at this very moment and he was trying to mislead me.
Maybe I should’ve listened to my father when he told me to stay out of it.
I cleared my throat. “Was he like that with everybody? I mean, verbally abusive and stuff?”
Kyle winced, his shoulders lifting. “I don’t know. I heard rumors. Like he was a tough guy to work for. I heard from a few people who used to work at one of his places that they would sometimes not get their checks until two, maybe three weeks later. James would always swear would it never happen again, he always had an excuse.”
“But I bet it did happen again,” I mused.
“Yeah, I bet it did. There were a couple of times I walked in and found him meeting with some pretty rough looking characters. Guys who looked like they were pretty ticked off, to put it mildly. But he smooth talked them, just like he always did. He could smooth talk his way out of anything. But I got the idea that Rob was tired of being sweet talked. They started snapping at each other in front of us, the staff.”
“That’s never a good sign,” I agreed. Meanwhile, the picture he was painting for me was simultaneously becoming clearer and more muddied with each word he spoke. Maybe I needed to call my father and ask exactly the sort of people James Flynn was involved with. I even considered asking Joe, but I knew he would just laugh in my face and tell me to get a life.
He bit down on his lip, like he was trying to decide if he should speak his mind. “To be honest with you, I sort of got the idea that—"
I was holding my breath, waiting for him to reveal the idea he was sort of starting to get, when his front door opened and a woman’s voice called out. “They didn’t have the ice cream you like, babe, so I got another brand. I hope that’s okay.”
It was then that she turned after locking the door behind her. And I was pretty sure she was close to dropping the paper bag of groceries when she found company in the living room.
If I’d been holding something, I would’ve dropped it for sure. Because the woman standing in front of me was none other than Aubrey Klein.
And she had definitely called Kyle babe.
Chapter Eighteen
“Aubrey, this is Emma Harmon.” Kyle stood, taking the bag from Aubrey’s arms.
My cheeks were burning. I could only imagine my face looked about as red as a beet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, you know…”
Aubrey glared at me. “What? You didn’t mean to what?”
Boy, she was just as friendly now as she’d been on Friday night. Then again, if my husband was currently in jail for murder, I would probably not be the nicest person. “It’s just that had I known you would be here at any point, I wouldn’t intrude.” This was easily the most uncomfortable I’d been all day, which was saying something.
Meanwhile, as I scrambled for an explanation and an apology, about a million voices screamed different things in my head. All of them had to do with the fact that, oh my gosh, Aubrey was having an affair with Kyle. I was looking motive straight in the face. What better motive was there than for a jealous lover to kill his boss’s business partner and frame the boss?
I could just imagine it all in that very instant. Befriending Robbie, earning his trust, getting a job from him as a ploy to spend more time with Aubrey.
Then, framing him for murder.
Suddenly, Aubrey’s hostile expression softened. “Wait a second. Oh, no.” She burst out laughing, covering her mouth with one hand. I didn’t get the joke.
When she had herself under control, she managed to sputter, “He’s my brother! Kyle is my brother. What, did you think? He was my boyfriend?” She giggled helplessly, leaning against the wall next to the door. She hadn’t taken so much as a single step forward since she first came in and found me.
Now that she mentioned it, they did look a lot alike. Their hair, for one, roughly the same shade of red though hers was brighter. The same dark eyes, the same creamy complexion and finely chiseled features.
Though Aubrey had certainly taken better care of herself than her brother had. He was a lot older around the e
yes, and he had the slightly yellowed teeth of a smoker. She didn’t. In fact, she looked like she might’ve had her teeth whitened at some point in the recent past. Maybe in preparation for the opening.
“Oh! Okay.” I laughed, too, only mine was the laughter of relief. It was like a release valve, letting out all the tension. “Sorry. I got the wrong idea.”
Aubrey finally sat on the sofa, crossing her slim legs and wedging her purse between herself and the arm. Even in casual clothes, the sort of thing a girl wore when she went to the supermarket, she looked like a million bucks.
Some people were just like that. Raina was another one. Even her so-called lazy clothes were name brand, well-fitted, hand wash only. She tried.
“We weren’t really introduced on Friday,” I pointed out. “Robbie—”
“I know who you are. I know my husband once worked for your mother. He told me all about it after spotting you at the opening.”
If it weren’t for the iciness in her tone, I might have been flattered. Granted, I’d never been married. Maybe a wife didn’t like her husband bringing up an old acquaintance with another woman.
I decided to chalk this up to overwrought nerves. If I were in her position, I would’ve been a mess. Surrounded by balled-up tissues, empty wine bottles and ice cream containers, in the same clothes I’d worn for three days. When I considered this, Aubrey looked even better in comparison. Even her hair was immaculate.
I took another tack, wondering how to get through to her. I might not get another chance like this. “I just want to say I’m so sorry for all this. Honestly, if there’s anything I can do, I’m here.”
She nodded, her lips pressed together in a thin smile. “And exactly why are you here?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “I heard you’re a writer. Do you plan on writing about this?”
Geez, no wonder she was so cold.
“No! No, not at all. It seems like we keep misunderstanding each other. I came to town today to ask the detective how things were going and why he charged Robbie with the killing. It’s obvious to me that he doesn’t have a murderous bone in his body. Of course, he acts like I don’t know what I’m talking about and dismisses maybe three-quarters of what I say.”
