Murder By Design

by Erin McCarthy

“K,” I said, because suddenly I felt like I needed toothpicks to hold my eyes open and saying the entirety of “okay” was just too long and cumbersome. I was being dragged under into the Vicodin whirlpool.

  He said something else, but I was only aware of words, not their meaning, and I murmured something back before I succumbed to a deep sleep.

  Chapter Ten

  The next morning I woke up stiff as a board, with an empty belly and extreme cotton mouth. I groaned when I shifted on Marner’s couch. Everything hurt, from my bruised hip, to my scraped knee, to my bum shoulder. I could hear him in the kitchen moving around and I debated calling out to him, but that seemed like a lot of work. The best I could do was give another moan, like a zombie in need of brains.

  It did the trick. He appeared in the doorway. “Hey. Good morning. How are you feeling?”

  “Like I’ve been hit by a car. Everything on me hurts. And I’m starving.”

  “Do you want coffee?” He had a mug in his hand and it called out to me like a mirage to a woman stranded in the desert.

  “I think you know that is literally the world’s dumbest question.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “It’s a good thing you’re injured, or I might find that attitude a little off-putting.” His voice was casual though. It wasn’t the tone Marner used when he was well and truly pissed. That tone was quiet and terrifying.

  “Get my coffee or lose me forever,” was my response.

  He laughed. “I’m on it.”

  It was the longest two minutes of my life, but he did bring me both a glass of water and a coffee with the cream ratio perfect. He knew I had a bit of a cream obsession. Too little and the coffee is bitter. Too much and you’re drinking milk. This was just right. The water probably was a good idea too, given the medication I’d taken the night before, so I made myself take a large chug. Then it was coffee time. “Ah, yes. Coffee makes everything hurt just a little less.”

  “I’m sorry I left you on the couch, but you would not wake up and I was afraid if I picked you up I would jostle your shoulder.” He went back to the kitchen to retrieve his own mug.

  “No, that’s fine. I probably would have kept you up anyway, tossing and turning.”

  “More like talking in your sleep.” Jake padded back in, wearing pajama bottoms, a t-shirt, and wool socks. He looked sexy, as usual. He sat down in the chair across from me. “You were really chatty. I didn’t go to bed for a few hours after you fell asleep, and you had a lot to say.”

  Oh no, that made me slightly nervous. I didn’t remember any of that. “What was I saying?”

  He grinned. “What do you think you said?”

  I took another sip and gave him a stern look, more than a little alarmed. “I’m not playing a guessing game.”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  Now he was really freaking me out. “Did I say something weird? Embarrassing?”

  “You just talked about how hot I am, how much you like my muscles.”

  Oh geez. I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not, because it was highly likely I would have said that under the influence, because it was the truth. He was hot, and I did like his muscles. But I still needed to protest. “I did not, though if I did, that’s not a lie, per se.”

  He put his coffee down and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “You said more than that.”

  He was serious. He wasn’t joking. Yikes. “What?”

  But he grinned again. “Not telling. I’ll wait and see if you repeat it when you’re not stoned.”

  All the blood drained from my face and I felt momentarily lightheaded. As I was falling asleep did I actually tell Marner I loved him? It seemed possible. Drifting off, that’s a natural thing to say. But I mean, did I love him, love him? As opposed to just loving him?

  I decided not to pursue this any further, not sure I wanted to hear the answer. “I had way better ideas about how last night was going to go.”

  “Me too.” He stood up. “What can I fix you for breakfast? I need to go to the gym, but I’ll only be an hour.”

  “It’s too bad I dislocated my shoulder, or I totally would have gone and worked out with you.”

  “You’re a total liar.”

  I was. I was allergic to working out. “I only run if someone is chasing me, that’s true. And clearly, I don’t even run when cars are mowing me down.” Maybe I needed to rethink my exercise allergy.

  Marner looked pissed off all over again and I was sorry I had brought it up. “I’ll take whatever you have. Oatmeal, fruit, muffins.”

  “Don’t you want an omelet or something more substantial?”

  “I don’t want to keep you from the gym.”

  “I can make you eggs. It takes two minutes.” He bent over and kissed me. “You need me to feed you. Without me you live on yogurt and string cheese. You eat like you have a grade school lunch packed for you every day.”

  It was true. “As long as you don’t dump me when I gain seventy-two pounds, I’m good with that.”

  I wanted him to say he wasn’t going to dump me. But he just snorted and went into the kitchen. Why did men never follow the script? It shouldn’t matter that it’s written entirely in our heads, they should just realize what the obvious answer is supposed to be.

  After serving me a fluffy and aromatic omelet and refilling my coffee, Marner left for the gym. I was watching The Golden Girls on his TV and tucking my breakfast away when Cezar appeared.

  “Hey, kid, how are you feeling?” he said gruffly, sitting down on the coffee table.

  Annoyed that he was blocking my view mid-Sophia-monologue, I tried to look around him. I liked the Sicily stories. They were funny. “I’m fine. It could have been a lot worse.”

  “I know, that’s what worries me. Where’s my phone? We should take a look at it. We need to wrap this up, because I like you, Red, and I’m feeling guilty about getting you mixed up in this.”

  That was surprisingly sweet. I stopped trying to see my show and gingerly rolled over so I could use my good arm to drag my purse over to me. “It’s in here.” I pulled it out. “What’s your passcode?”

  Once I was in, I went straight to his texts. Six from Slade. Three from Daniel. “I am not seeing anything unusual. Your sons are wondering why you aren’t answering them.” I scrolled down. “And a woman named Trixie says she hates you for standing her up, yet again, and that you should lose her number.”

  Why did it not surprise me that Cezar would find the one woman in existence who legitimately had the name Trixie?

  “Well, she’s going to feel like a huge bitch for sending that when she finds out I’m dead.” Cezar looked amused by the thought. “Besides, she’s always late. This is just payback.”

  “I think you’re forgetting you didn’t do it on purpose.” I kept scrolling and I saw some vague business texts. Meeting at noon. Call the client. None of the names were anyone I recognized or had heard Cezar reference. There was my number, arranging for me to go in to the lake house. But there didn’t seem to be anything unusual or glaringly obvious. Like “meet at midnight, come alone” type texts.

  “I’m just trying to use humor to diffuse a bad situation.”

  That line sounded like he had lifted it from a movie. “I applaud your efforts. But now what? What should I do with this phone? Nothing? I don’t think either of your sons has filed a missing persons report yet. It would be better if they did, because then the cops would look for you.”

  Cezar rubbed his beefy cheeks. “Can you take it to Daniel, explain the situation? Slade might not get concerned enough.”

  Given the way his second son had reacted to my bringing him the storage unit key, I had to agree. “Okay. I made a copy of the key to the storage unit, by the way. Maybe I should go over there.” Then I smacked myself in the forehead. “I totally forgot to tell you! The dead guy in the warehouse with your wallet was some petty criminal named Kenny Altman. Does that ring a bell?”

  He cocked his head and thought. “M
aybe? It’s sounds a little familiar, but I can’t place it.”

  “Let me see if I can find him online. A picture might help.” I did a quick online search and found him on social media. “This must be him. He seems to be the only Kenny Altman in the area.” He was a typical guy in his late twenties, pretending to be gangsta cool with some poorly executed tattoos. He was fond of posting angry epitaphs with a complete disregard for grammar, and he seemed to have a baby mama that he couldn’t get along with to save his life. “Who would want to kill this guy, besides his ex?”

  I showed Cezar the profile picture.

  “I’ve never seen that guy in my life. I don’t think.”

  That sounded confident. Not. “Okay, so we’re back at the beginning. None of this makes any sense.” I remembered the phone that I had gotten the mysterious threatening call on. “Did you have a burner phone in your kitchen drawer? Because there was one there yesterday.”

  His eyebrows shot up. “No. What am I, a drug dealer?”

  “Because you’re so straight and narrow, but you draw the line at dealing? Whatever. But if it wasn’t there the day you died, someone has been in your house. The sheriff definitely has, but the phone was there before he knocked on the door. Who else has access to your house?”

  “You. Trixie. The boys. That’s it.”

  “How great is your security? And how well do you know Trixie?”

  He grinned. “Biblically.”

  Ew. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I mean, can you trust her?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought so. But she doesn’t know squat about my business. I didn’t share details, you know what I’m saying?”

  “Then I don’t know what to say. Could someone have broken in?”

  “It’s possible.”

  I took another bite of my omelet. “I’m going to text Daniel now. I can try to meet up with him today or tomorrow.”

  Found your father’s phone at the lake house. This is his home stager, Bailey Burke. Should I leave it here?

  “This sounds sketchy,” I told Cezar. “Like why do I care if you left your phone on the counter at your lake house? Any more than I should care about the storage unit key? Your sons are going to think I killed you.” Seriously, I just seemed overly concerned about Cezar in general.

  “No one is going to think you killed me. Please. Besides, if you killed me, why would you be returning keys and my phone?”

  I sighed and closed my eyes, resting my head on my pillows. “I don’t know. I need a nap, Cezar. My shoulder hurts.” It did. And my head hurt from trying to puzzle out this mess.

  “Right. Sure, kid. You get some rest. I’ll talk to you later after you’ve heard from Daniel.” He was staring at his phone on the coffee table, but Daniel wasn’t responding.

  I had a feeling he was going to just sit there until the screen lit up. Poor guy. It must feel odd to be dead for days and as of yet no one seemed ready to sound the alarm. They all just seemed belligerent that he wasn’t responding, not necessarily concerned. When I had gotten drugged and kidnapped by Nick Pitrello, my mother and Marner had known within hours something was off. So had Alyssa. It made me grateful I had lived such a structured life. Boring, maybe, but low risk. People knew my patterns.

  Until Ryan had appeared, anyway. Since then, my life had been a little off the rails.

  I was dozing off when Cezar said, “Yo, Daniel responded.”

  Really? I pried my eyes open. With a sigh, I glanced over at the phone.

  I was wondering why he wasn’t answering me. Thx for letting me know.

  “That’s it?” Cezar asked. “Great, now he’s going to not worry about it for days.”

  I waved my hand to acknowledge that I heard him and gave a soft moan of pain as I shifted, maybe slightly exaggerated to emphasis my point.

  To his credit, he stayed silent. Not a single note of Celine Dion or his usual annoying chatter. I was again on the verge of a really blissful sleep when Cezar’s phone rang.

  “Argh!” I said, glaring at the phone. Then in the haze of my need for sleep, pain, and general irritation I had a thought. “Wait, how is your phone still on? Shouldn’t your battery be dead by now?”

  “Definitely. That thing has to be plugged in every day.”

  More questions. No answers.

  “Aren’t you going to answer it? It’s Slade.”

  “Why would I answer your phone?”

  “Any time someone’s phone goes missing, the person who finds it answers it. It’s common sense. Besides, you just told Daniel you have my phone.”

  “Fine.” If I didn’t, I had a feeling I was in for a round of Miley Cyrus’s Wrecking Ball. I did not want that to hit my ears off Cezar’s lips. Ever.

  I quickly answered the phone, “Hello, this is Bailey Burke.”

  “Why the hell do you have my father’s phone? First his keys, then his phone? What is going on?” Slade was clearly angry, but his tone was controlled, commanding.

  “I found the phone at your father’s lake house, sitting on the counter.” It wasn’t true but close enough. “It wasn’t there the other day. I just find it odd that he isn’t responding at all to my attempts to reach him, and now he doesn’t have his phone.” I winced. That sounded so stupid. I needed to be a better sleuth. Nancy Drew wouldn’t sound like such a freak.

  “Here’s what I’m going to suggest. You stop going to my father’s house. Look, maybe you’re his girlfriend or whatever and you think you need to keep tabs on him, but he’s a grown-ass man, all right? He’ll turn up when he wants to.”

  Great. He thought I was pining for Cezar. Gross. “Fine. I will stay out of the house. What should I do with the phone?”

  “My brother will meet you after work today to pick it up. And I’m going to have my father change the code to the door of the lake house, so get over it. He doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Got it.” If he only knew how much Cezar bent my ear, maybe he would change his tune. But arguing would do no good. “Have a nice day, Slade.”

  “Whatever.” He hung up on me.

  “Slade is no charmer, Cezar. I’m sorry to break it to you.”

  “What are you talking about? He’s a perfect gentleman. Women love him.”

  Not this woman. “Supposedly Daniel is going to pick the phone up. Now let me sleep for real this time.” I turned off his phone.

  I woke up sometime later to the sound of Marner in the shower. I forced myself to get up off the couch, clean up my dishes, and drink a glass of water. Then, despite the shoulder throbbing, I decided Marner needed an audience.

  “You’re awake,” he said, when I strolled into the bathroom and leaned against the countertop so I could see him through the clear glass.

  “So are you,” I responded, in total appreciation of my boyfriend.

  I may have been hit by a car, but I wasn’t dead.

  * * *

  Daniel proved to be much more pleasant than his brother. He was wearing a dress shirt and pants and a dark blue tie, and he had a friendly smile on his face when I opened my door on Monday around six o’clock. He had said he worked downtown and would swing by to pick up the phone on his way home to Strongsville, a suburb south of downtown, perfect for a young family.

  “Hi, Daniel, come on in.” I figured I could trust him. He seemed to be the good son, as opposed to Slade aka Cranky Pants Wozniak. “I’m sorry about all of this. I’m not trying to be a pest. I just want to make sure everything is okay.” I had my arm in the sling still, but the pain had decidedly diminished in the forty-eight hours since I had been hit. The bruises on my hip and thigh were deepening, but didn’t hurt as much either.

  I was wearing flats though, not wanting to be off balance in heels. I had on a chunky sweater, burgundy jeans, and cute floral flats perfect for fall. Jewel tones are kind of my thing.

  “I appreciate your concern.” He stepped inside my foyer, but stayed respectfully close to the door. He didn’t even glance around,
which struck me as a sign of good manners.

  Cezar was sitting in my living room, and even though I knew Daniel wouldn’t see him, it still felt a bit strange. So Daniel’s lack of curiosity made it feel less creepy to me. “Here you go.” I handed him the phone.

  I realized that given that I shouldn’t know Cezar’s passcode, it was going to look like Cezar read all those texts himself and just didn’t respond, but I wasn’t sure what else I was supposed to do at this point. I was fairly sure I was implicating myself in his death anyway, and that was the last thing I needed.

  “Thanks. I am seriously considering filing a missing persons report,” he said. “It’s been days since anyone has heard from him. It’s not like him to not check in on me because of the kids. He sees them at least twice a week.”

  “If you have any concerns at all I think you should,” I urged him. “What’s the harm if you’re wrong? But what if you’re right and there is something wrong? You’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t pursue it.”

  “Exactly. I can’t help it. I’m a cautious guy by nature.”

  Daniel and I were sympatico. “Me too. People say I’m uptight, but really, I call it weighing all the options and proceeding with caution.”

  “We’re on the same page.” He held up the phone. “Thanks, Bailey, I appreciate it. I’ll let my dad know you’re trying to get in touch with him.”

  “Great, thanks. I’m sure everything is fine.” Not.

  He gave me a wave and he was gone.

  I turned to Cezar after I closed the door. “Okay, I’m worried about the lack of urgency going on here. Like where is your body?” It didn’t seem to me this should be so difficult.

  “I’m probably riding around in Sammy’s trunk.” Cezar shuddered. “Damn, I hate small spaces.”

  “Good thing you’re not aware of it.” It seemed to me the minute we found his body, Cezar had a good shot at moving on. “I’m going to zip over to your storage unit.”

  Now that Slade had said he was going to change the code on the lake house, I didn’t want to show my face there again. I was grabbing my purse with my left arm and heading for my car when my phone rang. It was an unknown number.