by Amy Saunders
"What if they ask—?"
"Then I'll answer. Stop worrying about it. I can take care of myself."
Belinda stared at a photo in the kitchen of the two of them on Mark's sailboat before the accident. No matter what approach she took, the subject always remained taboo. "Are you working?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll let you go."
"Bels—"
"Yeah?"
"Antelope sheep."
Belinda smiled. "Pollywog rattlesnake." Belinda hung up, still stuck on the photo. She'd had all these romantic notions of coming home, imagining that life would be just the same as before. But it wasn't, and Jeff's death only magnified that truth. Nothing would ever be the same.
~ * ~
Jonas got on the phone with Bennett immediately as he hugged the curvy beach road heading back to the station. "Two things," he said, peddling over as a car passed. "Fawn Eyes is not our killer."
"If you even need one." Bennett stowed his laptops away in his home office and locked it up. "Last I checked, the reason for his death was undetermined."
"Second," Jonas was not in the mood to argue about technicalities, "you need to cozy up to her. This woman knows these people, their history. And given the right circumstances, will share that wealth of knowledge."
Bennett stared into his empty fridge. "Then turn back around and go ask her yourself."
"I can't. I don't have a legitimate reason to."
"You're investigating a potential homicide. I vaguely recall that counts as a legitimate reason to question people."
"Yes, but you are not a police officer."
Bennett paused, hand frozen over his keys in claw formation.
"Everyone is on guard with the police, but she wouldn't have to be with you. You could just talk and it's not official." Jonas congratulated himself for his brilliant idea.
"And how would we do that?"
"You bump into each other, you say hi, then you say something else, then she replies, then you ask a question, and so on and so forth. You know, it's called conversation."
Bennett rolled his eyes. "I get that, thank you. But when would I bump into her? I've never seen her before in my life."
"It's like a type of car. You never knew it existed until you buy one and all of the sudden everyone you see owns that same car."
"So Belinda Kittridge is a now an automobile."
"No. Belinda Kittridge is a socialite. A socialite who could offer vital information to our cause." Not to mention attractive and single as far as he could tell.
"I wouldn't describe her that way. She associates with these people but I'm not sure she belongs with them."
Jonas laughed. "You've watched that footage of her a lot today, haven't you?"
Bennett turned blood red and glared at his keys. "I can't help you."
"Oh, yes you can. And you will. Investigating is still in your blood, I can smell it. You made a terrific PI so I'm sure you can find a way to casually run into her somewhere. Then you do your little conversation thing and whammo she tells you something invaluable."
"You do realize I know why you're actually doing this?"
Jonas shrugged. "It'll be good for you. And it beats staring at an aerial view of her walking back and forth in a hallway all day."
Bennett gripped his keys. "We'll see."
Jonas hung up, satisfied that he'd done what he set out to do. If Bennett didn't find her patterns and fall into step with them within two days, Jonas would take an early retirement and go flip hamburgers for the rest of his life.
Bennett returned home about an hour later with his lunch. He sat out in his yard in the shade, perfectly content to sit there and eat his lunch in peace. Perfectly content. His mind didn't wander to Belinda Kittridge and what she might be doing at that moment. Not even for a second. He held his plastic fork straight into the air, his lunch poised on top of his other palm. Not. For. A. Second. Bennett growled, cursing Jonas under his breath, and marched back into his office. It would be a lunch while working kind of day.
By the time the last piece of fish met its destiny, Bennett had spent an absurd amount of time reading the press Belinda and her family got for their benefits and other community work. Though they were mentioned in conjunction with other Portside families, it did seem to be as Bennett thought. They moved in their own circle, getting along but separate from the other families to a certain extent.
Belinda volunteered for various activities when she was in town, and she and her family contributed to an assortment of places and events in Portside and beyond, especially when it came to the arts and boating. In fact, Belinda and her grandmother had recently led an exclusive art-related fundraiser.
Where could he "naturally" run into her though? Bennett ran his fingers through his dark hair, contemplating the common denominators. There wasn't much of a way around it, he would have to watch her and create his own natural meeting place.
Chapter 5
True to his word, Kyle had bought no food of interest to her, but he had developed a sudden craving for all things homemade now that he had her captive. Belinda smiled to herself while strolling through the small downtown market. Kyle had started a list of things he wanted her to make while she was in town. Incredible. The man who couldn't keep track of his keys had made her a list—a legible one, mind you, with stars for bullet points, stuck on the fridge front and center. Oh well. He certainly appreciated her cooking by letting none of it go to waste, and her nana had advised her to use her skills for all they were worth. So she would. Besides, she'd learned that Jeff had been murdered, which she'd as much as told that detective, and it would help her de-stress to bake.
Rounding out the vegetables for the evening, Belinda headed for the baking aisle. Checking her list to make sure she didn't muse her way out of the store without something important, she glanced up to see the storm cloud eyes of That Guy from the party staring straight at her over the boxes of organic granola. Startled and embarrassed for no good reason, Belinda quickly averted her eyes and booked it to another aisle.
Just when she thought she was safe with the flour and semi-sweet chocolate chips, Jarrett materialized next to her, pouty faced and huffy. The band gig. She'd forgotten all about it in the craziness. And, honestly, she'd never intended to go and he as much as knew that. But, nevertheless, he was going to give her the Greenhouse Treatment, as Kyle called it. Jarrett would blast her with guilt to see if she'd grow useful to him.
Jarrett deigned to say hello to her and then stood there holding his bottle of soda, his cheeks suctioned in from repressing his loathing of her.
Belinda took a deep breath. Time to be the adult. "How was your gig yesterday?"
"You mean practice?"
Oops. Of course she meant practice. "Yes, practice. How did it go?"
"Awful."
"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."
Jarrett shrugged.
So far, not so good, but he wasn't making any move to leave and Belinda was out of conversation starters. Just when she was about to come up with some clever out like, "Well, look at the time," That Guy rounded the corner behind Jarrett, walking straight toward her.
That was the good and bad news.
His expression was flat, but not blank. No, not blank at all when Belinda looked closely.
"I found them," That Guy said, shaking a box of—granola bars?—over his head.
Belinda glanced behind her to look for the receiving end of That Guy's dialogue, and stood in complete shock when he took her basket and positioned himself next to her like they were...together. Had she actually known this poor guy and totally forgotten he existed? Belinda took another look at him. No, she felt confident she wouldn't forget a guy that good-looking.
Jarrett got over his surprise and focused his sulking blue eyes on the man next to her.
"Ready?" That Guy said to Belinda. "We're running late." He slipped his hand through hers, gripping her fingertips. A bolt went through her and she nearly yanked away, but
he kept too tight a grip.
Still unsure if it was a rescue or a trap leading to bigger problems, Belinda said a quick good-bye to Jarrett, who glared with all his might at That Guy, and followed her new companion across the store. He strode next to her like they walked through the grocery store together everyday, which she quickly decided had pros and cons.
Pro: he held her basket, which she realized too late would be way heavier by the end of her trip than she wanted.
Con: she had no idea how to get rid of him and he was walking super fast. What if he just got in the car with her and drove off?
She started to ask him who he was when he cut her off. "What else do we need?"
Still stunned, she glanced at her list and detoured to the refrigerated section, That Guy not missing a beat behind her. She filled up her basket, now really grateful she wasn't carrying it, and hustled to the checkout lines. Making it to her car and the finish line, so she hoped, her Worst Case Scenario actually happened.
That Guy snipped her keys from her fingertips and started the car. Belinda ran around to the other side to ensure he didn't leave without her. As she did so, Second Worst Case Scenario happened. Only this one never occurred to her before.
Lily Devore crawled up out of her silver convertible and looked directly at her, clearly taking note of the strange man in the driver's side of Belinda's car. Acting like they hadn't just made eye contact, Lily marched past her and into the store. Flustered, but with no time to think as her car revved, Belinda buckled in.
As soon as they started moving, he spoke. Finally. "We'll drive around the block and come back."
"Why?"
He glanced at her like the answer was obvious. "Because of the kid. It would look weird if we left separately."
We wouldn't want that, Belinda thought. "Personally, it looks weird that we left together. It's quite possible that Lily Devore will know your name before I do."
That Guy's lip twitched, a glint lighting up the back of his eyes. "Bennett Tate."
Repeating his name silently, Belinda realized that Bennett Tate already knew her. That thought unsettled her, especially considering she was now at his mercy in her car. He went straight through the next intersection, hung a right, then another right, and zipped back towards the market, coming to a stop under the shade of a tree near the road in the parking lot.
Before she could begin to ask all the questions flooding her mind, Bennett got out. "Enjoy your dinner," he said and started walking away.
"Pleasure meeting you!" Belinda called to him, but he didn't acknowledge her.
She watched him walk, hoping to get some clue about him other than that she'd seen him two mysterious times now. But Bennett Tate was not so easily decoded and he walked across the street and kept going.
Belinda took a deep breath to steady her nerves before she attempted to drive home. As she sat there wondering about her pretend friend, she couldn't decide if she was more disturbed by his hand holding or the fact that he left without so much as a glance back at her.
As with most things in Belinda's life, there was an upshot to the whole weird market experience: it gave Belinda a story for Victoria the next day and took her mind off her more immediate troubles.
"He sounds hot," Victoria said. "I'd go for a third encounter if I were you."
Belinda laughed. The two of them drove around town, scouting for a possible venue for Belinda's future cupcake boutique. The town of Portside had almost everything you needed—except fancy and scrumptious cupcakes. With encouragement and advice from her nana, Belinda had decided over the winter to use some of her money to fix that. "You don't think it's creepy?"
"Yeah, but it's also hot. Creepy hot."
Belinda kept a lookout for empty commercial space, afraid she'd miss something while yapping. "I'm scared that I'm going senile and I actually do know him."
Victoria shook her head. "You wouldn't forget a guy that attractive."
"You haven't even seen him!"
"I have a good imagination, and you would not forget a man that attractive." Victoria stopped to let a family cross the street. "You know, you keep acting like you have no recourse to find out who he is. You're a Kittridge. You know everybody in Portside and everybody knows you."
Portside was not a very big town, though it liked to fan out its feathers. It was tough to hide there.
"I hadn't thought of that." Belinda watched the woman push a baby carriage back onto the sidewalk. That would be Victoria soon enough.
Victoria grinned. "That's why I love you."
Belinda watched store after store go by, chewing on that.
"You should be near the Rusty Pirate," Victoria said, pointing. "People can go there for dinner and lunch and then cross into your boutique for dessert."
"There's also that sandwich place at the end of the shops. Best grilled cheese ever."
"But no trip to Portside is complete without—"
"Gelato!"
"I was going to say billiards in downtown, but sure, gelato."
Belinda's mouth turned down. "I stink at pool."
"You're not picking a location based on your skill levels. You're just trying to attract people who will want your cupcakes." Victoria winked and swung into an open spot on the street right across from the Rusty Pirate. "Time to taste test the recommendations."
They waited for the hostess to seat them and between the leaves of a palm tree, Belinda saw the glistening black hair of Lily Devore and across from her, Jarrett.
Belinda elbowed Victoria, moving out of the line of sight so Jarrett couldn't see her, yanking Victoria along with her. "Please, please tell me," Belinda whispered as they followed the hostess to their seat, "that he did not ask her out and she accepted."
Victoria climbed up onto the stool using the bar on the bottom as leverage. "I can't see that, can you?"
"Only if she's using him."
"What would Lily need him for? And don't say what you're really thinking because I am pregnant and might throw up on you."
Belinda scrunched her nose in disgust. "I'm not thinking that anyway. It wouldn't be like her. I actually don't know what to think."
They both tried to shrink into the shadows as much as possible as Lily left. She didn't even glance around, putting on her sunglasses and strutting off down the street, looking pleased about something. Jarrett left a minute later, walking in the opposite direction of Lily. Belinda glanced at Victoria. Odd. But first things first. Belinda had to unravel the mystery that was Bennett Tate. And she was formulating a plan.
Chapter 6
After contemplating how her family name might help her in her quest for the real Bennett Tate, Belinda just took the boring route and searched for him online. The only real glimmer of hope was in Tate Security, but with no photos of the owner, she couldn't be sure it was him. So Belinda had Victoria make an appointment under a false name. It might have been more of a ruse than necessary, but it was much more exciting than just calling Stellan.
Belinda turned in slow circles around the blank canvas of a bedroom in the upstairs of Victoria's house. Or, rather, the future nursery of Baby Hart. Victoria and Belinda had painted several strips of different colors side by side on the wall. With no shades on the windows, the sun hit the room at full force, practically blinding her.
"I know the color swatches are a little early." Victoria patted her still-flat tummy. "But I just couldn't wait."
She handed Belinda a glass of water and examined the rainbow of selections. On her bare feet, Victoria barely came up to Belinda's shoulders. Would their child be short and petite like her mother? Or tall and wiry like his dad?
"Does Dan have a color preference? I mean, despite the gender."
"He hates green, but that's all he's saying for the moment." Victoria leaned against the wall. "Just wait, though. As soon as it's time to buy the paint, he'll suddenly hate the color I've chosen. It never fails."
"I thought he had no opinions on these matters?"
Victor
ia laughed. "It's a myth, my dear. A total myth."
After doing all the damage they could in the nursery, they switched headquarters to the office on the first floor. Victoria scrolled through the items on Belinda's cousin's wedding registry online, zooming in on pieces here and there as she or Belinda pointed to things. As they got towards the end, both of them developed lemon faces.
"This is the saddest wedding registry I've ever laid eyes on," Victoria said. "Candle holders? Really?"
"I procrastinated and now all the good gifts are taken."
"Do they actually want a bread maker? I mean, does anyone actually use those things?"
Belinda slanted her eyes. "Don't you have a bread maker?"
"Yes, one of our wedding presents, and guess where it is?"
"The attic?"
"The attic. We used it once—maybe twice—right after we got married when we were excited to cook and clean and make fresh bread. But we would always remember that we could make bread when it was time to eat and then it was too late, so we finally gave up and heaved it into storage with the other rejected wedding gifts."
"The cappuccino maker would be fun."
"Belinda, I am not spending two-hundred dollars so the princess can have café-style cappuccino without changing out of her PJs."
Belinda sighed. "So what then? The forty-dollar iced tea pitcher?"
"We could buy them an ice pick."
"And you're complaining that nobody uses a bread maker?"
"Hey, there is more than one use for an ice pick." Victoria grinned. "Could come in handy past the honeymoon period."
"Yes, let's buy the happy couple their future murder weapon."
The doorbell rang, making them both jump. Victoria snickered and skipped out of the room, winking as she partially closed the office door. Showtime. Belinda could hear talking from the front room and tiptoed to peek through the crack in the door.
Victoria shook hands with a tall guy with dark brown hair in a sweater over a collared shirt and jeans. Well, that proved it. Bennett Tate owned Tate Security. Now what? Belinda frowned. She hadn't thought this all the way through. The phone rang and Victoria excused herself, floating off to the kitchen.
