Priced to Kill (Cindy York Mysteries Book 2)

by Catherine Bruns

  "I'd bet on it. He should be told that he might have a daughter and given an opportunity for a paternity test. I'll mention it to Aaron when I see him. I'd rather not be involved in this anymore, if possible. But if no one else wants to tell Carl, I will. The man has a right to know."

  I bit into my lower lip and continued. "Paul had the lab results in his hand when Michelle came to the house that day. She claimed it was an accident. Then, after she killed him in a fit of rage, she made it look like he'd committed suicide."

  "She never would have gotten away with it in this day and age," Jacques said. "Poor guy. If he hadn't left you that note, no one would have ever known. All he was trying to do was look out for his brother."

  "A brother who was jealous and never even cared about him. Speaking of which, have you heard anything from Ben?"

  "I ran into Aaron down at the police station. We chatted outside for a bit. He and an officer working the investigation are going to stop and see you later. He said the police had managed to reach Ben, and he was on his way back to New York." Jacques clucked his tongue. "Do you think he knew Paula wasn't his kid? Was he really that stupid to fall for Paul's scheme with the sperm sample?"

  I shifted slightly, looking for a more comfortable position. There was none. "It's my guess that he believed Michelle right from the beginning. He didn't know about her and Carl, at least that's what he implied to me. I do feel a bit sorry for him. I mean, look what he's found out in the last few hours. His wife murdered his brother. He can't father children, and the daughter he thought was his actually belongs to another man."

  "Yeah, talk about having a bad day," Jacques agreed.

  I blew out a breath. "Michelle took Paul's life, and all because she didn't want him to expose her dirty little secret. It wasn't fair."

  "I know, dear," Jacques said gently. "But at least now he can rest in peace. And maybe you can too, for the first time in twenty-five years."

  I studied him. His green eyes were solemn as they observed me thoughtfully. He knew me well—too well. He drew a handkerchief out of his pocket, and I promptly burst into tears. He reached over and held me in his arms while I sobbed.

  At first I wasn't sure what exactly I was crying for—Paul or the thought that I might have lost this baby. Probably a little of both.

  "Come on, darling," he said. "Pull yourself together before Gregory gets here. You need to be strong when you give him the news."

  I pressed a button on the side of the bed, and elevated the top portion at a more comfortable angle. "I don't feel strong. I'm still afraid to tell him, Jacques."

  As if on cue, we heard footsteps running down the hall, and a second later, Greg appeared in the doorway. He looked awful. His curly hair was a disheveled mess, his face haggard, and he had circles under his eyes. Yet, still my adorable husband. For the first time ever, I was more scared than relieved to see him. He nodded to Jacques and then proceeded to wrap his arms around me.

  "Sweetheart," he breathed. "I was so worried."

  Showtime.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  "What did the doctor say?" Greg smoothed the hair back from my face as he kissed me.

  "I haven't seen him yet. But they did some tests, and my leg is definitely broken. They said it could take up to six weeks to heal." Thank goodness it wasn't six months because I'd be having contractions and toting crutches during a New York winter then.

  Jacques rose to his feet. "I've got a call coming in. I'll be back in a few minutes." He winked and mouthed Good luck at me.

  Greg sat down in the chair Jacques had vacated and pulled it closer to the bed. He reached for my hand and kissed it. "I'm lucky I didn't get a speeding ticket. I drove ninety all the way back here. Where's Darcy?"

  "She's downstairs in the cafeteria. I'm sure she'll come back up in a few minutes."

  "I can't believe it, Cin. Our daughter was alone with that psycho the other night. And she could have killed both of you today. Thank God Jacques showed up when he did." Greg blew out a long breath. "It seems Jacques is your knight in shining armor, not me. I'm never there when you need me. Plus, you haven't been feeling well lately, and all I've been thinking about are my own selfish needs."

  My eyes filled as I watched the expression on his face. I couldn't stand to see him blame himself. "You are my knight. And it's not your fault you couldn't be here. You're a wonderful husband, provider, and father." I stressed the last word a bit.

  Greg didn't seem to notice as he stroked my cheek. "Paul can rest easy now, thanks to you." He smiled. "Maybe you and Jacques should get out of the real estate business and open your own detective agency." He examined the cast on my left leg. "Although you're going to be out of commission for a while, Nancy Drew."

  If he only knew. I blew out a sharp breath. The time had come. "Greg, you're—"

  I didn't get a chance to finish my sentence because Jacques poked his head back in the room at that moment. He caught the hidden meaning behind my glare and started to retreat again. "Sorry."

  Greg rose from the chair. "Come on, get in here." He reached for Jacques' hand and pulled him back into the room. "Once again, I owe you big time, my friend. What would we ever do without you?"

  I sighed. At this rate, I'd be lucky if I got a chance to tell my husband before I delivered the baby.

  Jacques smiled, and his eyes came to rest on me. "I'm afraid I have some bad news, my dear. Tricia Hudson texted me a few minutes ago."

  Uh-oh. I leaned forward, trying hard not to panic. "She heard about Michelle, didn't she?"

  Jacques' expression was grim. "Her buyers have canceled the contract."

  "No." I thought I might burst into tears. "They can't do that."

  He spoke gently. "You know that they can, dear. The contract is still in the attorney-approval stage. So they have the right. I guess the story made the midafternoon news too. Tricia saw it and called her buyers right away. Personally I can't stand the chick myself, but it was her obligation to inform her clients. As she suspected, they immediately wanted out of the contract. Tricia just emailed the documents over to me from their attorney's office."

  I stared at the ceiling and sighed. "I was really counting on that money, Jacques. Especially now."

  Greg reached for my hand again. "We'll be okay, baby. Don't worry. My boss is so pleased with my recent performance that I'm getting another raise next month."

  It was hard to hide my disappointment. Once again, the big deal had slipped through my fingers. "Jacques, I'm not going to be able to show many houses during the next six weeks. I've got to have some income."

  He nodded. "Remember, I told you I was making you co-lister on that other mansion of mine. You'll be taken care of, dear."

  I shook my head vigorously. "I can't let you do that. That's your money. I wouldn't feel right about it."

  Jacques tapped his fingers against his phone. "If it makes you feel better, I'll make a deal with you. Linda quit this morning. So I need a new receptionist, and you can't show houses for a while. If you agree to take over the phones until your leg is better and give me a chance to find someone else, I'll pay you Linda's salary. And you can still search For Sale by Owner listings, expired listings, etcetera. If you find a client who's interested, I can always show them the house for you, and we'll split the commission."

  My lower lip trembled. "That's far too generous. You're really incredible."

  He grinned. "Of course I am. But I happen to think you're incredible too."

  Greg watched Jacques in admiration. "You're too good to us. Cindy couldn't ask for a better boss or friend."

  I smiled. It wasn't too long ago that Greg had issues with Jacques and his personal life. I couldn't be prouder of him or my best friend right now.

  "But we can still keep the listing, right?"

  Jacques drew his eyebrows together. "Ben just called me. As you might guess, he was very cool on the phone. He's on his way back to New York at the moment. Given what he's just found out, I can understand his at
titude. He did mention the first thing he was going to do when he got back was take a paternity test."

  I closed my eyes for a moment. "What a mess this is."

  "When I told him about the contract being cancelled, well, it was kind of like he didn't even care anymore. I mean, he has bigger fish to fry right now. A wife who's a murderer and lied to him about another man's child."

  "So he may pull the house off the market."

  Jacques shrugged. "Maybe. Does it really matter? That mansion is a pariah now. It won't fetch anywhere near the money it's supposed to. Everything's out in the open. The current owner killed someone there. You know how people around here think. No one's going to want it."

  I sighed in defeat. "Another one bites the dust."

  Jacques waved his hand impatiently. "Ah, I've got you covered. Until your next mansion comes in, that is. Then you can pay me back."

  "It's a deal." I smiled but tried to shoot him a look of warning as well. "Hey, Jacques, would you mind—"

  At that moment, the door opened, and Doctor Sanchez appeared, chart in hand. Greg stood up so that they could shake hands, and then he introduced the doctor to Jacques.

  It was starting to feel like Grand Central Station in here. All I wanted was two minutes alone with my husband so I could tell him he was about to be a father again. I watched the doctor's face for signs that anything was wrong, but he smiled at me with encouragement.

  "It was a clean break," he said. "I want to keep you overnight, though. And we'll get you a pair of crutches to go home with. In about six weeks, you should be good as new."

  "Thanks, Doctor. Great to hear." I winked at him and gestured toward the door, hoping he'd get the hint and leave.

  He stared at me, puzzled. "Is there something in your eye, Cindy?"

  Unbelievable. "Doctor, I need to speak to my husband alone for a minute, if that's okay with you."

  Jacques went to the door and held it open, hoping Doctor Sanchez would take the hint.

  "Of course," Doctor Sanchez nodded. "But first I want to put your mind completely at ease. From everything we can see, it appears that the baby is fine."

  Ugh. I wanted to smack my head against something hard. Then again, I think I would have preferred to smack Doctor Sanchez's head instead.

  Greg looked from the doctor to me, confused. "Baby? What's he talking about?" Recognition slowly sank in, and an unmistakable look of panic crept into his eyes.

  "Oh, crap," Jacques said miserably.

  Doctor Sanchez's mouth dropped open in horror. "Oh, Cindy, I do apologize. I thought that Greg already—"

  I leaned back against the pillow, defeated. "Doctor, could I have a moment alone with my husband, please?" Even though the horse has already left the barn, thanks to you.

  Doctor Sanchez nodded meekly. "I'll—uh—stop by later." He couldn't leave the room fast enough. Jacques still held the door open for his departure, and from the look on his face, I worried he might push the doctor into the hallway.

  Greg sat down heavily in the chair, his breathing shallow. "Ba-baby? Whose baby?" His eyes darted from mine to Jacques' with alarm.

  "Well, don't look at me," Jacques said defensively.

  Greg whirled back around and locked eyes with me. "A baby?" he repeated.

  Jacques cleared his throat. "Um, I'll go down to the cafeteria and find Darcy. I'll drop her off at Helen's and be back as soon as I can." He leaned over the bed to give me a perfunctory kiss on the cheek.

  I whispered in his ear. "Please don't go."

  He gave me a sympathetic look. "You two need to be alone and sort things out. I'll bring you back something to eat. This hospital food is the pits. What would you like? How about a nice mammoth-sized piece of strawberry cheesecake? I'll have Ed get one together for you."

  "Thanks, but I really don't have much of an appetite." I watched my husband closely to see if he was still breathing. He appeared to be.

  "I'll think of something special." Jacques gave me an encouraging smile and then glanced worriedly at Greg, who was sitting in the chair, staring dimly into space. It reminded me of my shocked response when I'd first learned the news yesterday.

  Jacques opened the door, blew me a kiss, and then closed it soundlessly behind him.

  We were finally alone. I bit into my lower lip, trying to be brave. I waited for some sort of reaction from my husband. He turned his head to meet my gaze again. I hadn't expected him to jump up and down with joy but secretly hoped he'd take the news better. After all, it wasn't like I'd planned this. I figured he must be in shock.

  "How long have you known?" Greg's voice croaked.

  There was a cold chill in the air, and I pulled the sheet around me. "Only since yesterday. I didn't want to tell you over the phone."

  He nodded absently and fell silent again. I examined his face for any sign of emotion, but there was none. I was afraid I might burst into tears if he didn't say something else soon.

  Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer. "How do you feel?"

  His eyes locked on mine again. Still no response.

  "Greg," I said in a tight voice. "Please be honest with me. I know we didn't plan on this happening. It was a total shock for me too. But I've got to know you're going to be okay with this. I need you to tell me how you really feel about this baby."

  Greg was still silent as he reached for my hand and drew it to his lips then placed his other one protectively on my stomach while I attempted to blink back tears.

  His blue eyes shone as he smiled at me. "Grateful. For you both."

  * * * * *

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Catherine is the National Best Selling Author of Tastes Like Murder. She lives in Upstate New York with a male dominated household that consists of her very patient husband, three sons, and assorted cats and dogs. She has wanted to be a writer since the age of eight when she wrote her own version of Cinderella (fortunately Disney never sued). Catherine holds a B.A. in English and is a member of Mystery Writers of America and Sisters in Crime.

  To learn more about Catherine Bruns, visit her online at: http://catherinebruns.net/

  * * * * *

  BOOKS BY CATHERINE BRUNS

  Cindy York Mystery:

  Killer Transaction

  Priced to Kill

  Cookies & Chance Mysteries:

  Tastes Like Murder

  A Spot of Murder (short story in the Killer Beach Reads collection)

  Baked to Death

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  SNEAK PEEK

  If you enjoyed this Cindy York Mystery, check out this sneak peek of another exciting novel from Catherine Bruns:

  TASTES LIKE MURDER

  by

  CATHERINE BRUNS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Mrs. Gavelli wagged her stubby finger. "You no forget my free fortune

  this time. I tell your grandmama if you cheat me."

  My mouth fell open in surprise, but I knew better than to argue with the elderly, Italian lady who stood before my display case, dressed in a drab, gray housecoat. It was shocking how well her outfit matched her coarse hair, pulled back from her stern face in a severe bun. As she reached down to scratch her leg, she succeeded in pushing her knee-highs farther down her calves. One more movement and they'd be level with her black Birkenstocks.

  "No, Mrs. Gavelli. You have my word."

  My best friend and partner, Josie Sullivan, appeared in the doorway. She'd been icing cookies in the back room for a delivery tomorrow. "Mrs. G, you're fogging up the glass on our case with your breath. Are you buying something or not?"

  Nicoletta Gavelli snorted as she pointed at the tray of chocolate-dipped fortune cookies that lined the bottom shelf of our display case. They had been my idea to lure more business into the sho
p, giving us a unique flair. The sign written in blue Magic Marker on the glass read: Buy a cookie—get a free fortune. They were easy enough for Josie to make, but she thought I was wasting my money on them. I didn't care. Although frugal about other matters concerning my business, this small expense didn't worry me. I enjoyed seeing the delighted expressions on children's faces when they opened them.

  Mrs. Gavelli continued her tirade in broken English. "You no fool me, Sally Muccio. You be up to no good since you work your wiles on my grandson."

  She'd never let the incident with Johnny go. As tempting as it was to throw her out of my shop, I had a soft spot for the old lady and her sharp tongue, though it was pretty obvious she'd never cared for me. Nicoletta had lived next door to my parents ever since I could remember and was good friends with my Grandma Rosa. To this day, she still insists I tried to take advantage of her grandson, Johnny, when in fact it was Johnny who had lured me into their darkened garage at the tender age of six. Johnny, much more mature and reckless at the ripe old age of eight, informed me there was a great game called Doctor which we should play. He even went so far as to say he'd give me an ice cream cone afterward. I was foolish enough to believe him. Even then it was all about food for me.

  "No fortune cookie till you buy something." Josie folded her arms triumphantly across her chest.

  Mrs. Gavelli let out a loud harrumph. "Josie, you never change. No respect for elders. That mouth, she never stop. Why you not home with babies?"

  "My husband's there, Mrs. G. He works nights, remember?"

  "Yah, sure he home. I bet he drink the beer till he pass out."

  Josie narrowed her blue eyes. "We're running a business here. Are you buying something or not?"