Pudding Up With Murder

by Julia Buckley

  “Some were there when I got the office. I’ve read the ones I brought in, yes.”

  “That’s sexy, Jay. Women love a man who reads.”

  “Huh,” he said, riffling through some mail he found on a table by the door.

  I focused on his desk and was confronted by my own image, enlarged to a five-by-seven and framed in faux gold. It was a slightly out-of-focus picture he had taken on his phone. I was glad that soon I’d have a better one to give him—one that would guarantee he was always slightly distracted.

  “I guess you should show me what you’ve got there, Lilah. I hate to say it, but I don’t have a lot of time.”

  “I know, I know. Hey, this paperweight is neat!” It was a glass ball with an autumn leaf preserved inside.

  “Thanks. Lilah?”

  “Oh yeah. I hate to even bring this up, because I really like Cash Cantwell.”

  Jay’s face grew sharp with interest. “So?”

  I pulled Will’s yearbook from my capacious purse. “This guy Will who works at Haven mentioned that he went to high school with Cash. I had told him that you were working on a new case. Remember when you met Will and Gabby one time when you came to pick me up?”

  “Those kids who act like they’re in a romantic comedy?”

  “Yup. They’ve both been fascinated by you since then. They’re always asking about what you’re doing. Anyway, Cash’s name came up, and Will was surprised. Then tonight he showed up at my door with this yearbook that Cash signed when they graduated. Look at the back flyleaf.”

  Parker sat down at his desk so that he could study the book; I stood behind him and massaged his shoulders.

  “That’s nice,” Parker said. “Wow, these kids swear a lot.”

  “I know. Did you find Cash?”

  His shoulders tensed. “Oh boy,” he said.

  “Weird, right?”

  He stood up and turned to face me, leaning against his desk. “I need to talk to him. I get to indulge in your prettiness for two more minutes, and then I really need to go. I still have a few interviews I have to do tonight.”

  “I probably won’t see you later, then. I have to head to bed early and be at work early to get ready for a weekday birthday party.”

  He smoothed the hair at my temples. “Sorry about that. Things are very important in the hours right after the crime.”

  “I know. I get it. Oh, but Jay? All sorts of people have been asking to meet you. My friend Jenny just got engaged. Remember her, from the Christmas party we went to?”

  “I remember I kissed you at that party.”

  The memory had me feeling a little dizzy, as did the look in Parker’s eyes. “Well, she wants us to get together for dinner Friday—you, me, and her fiancé, Ross.”

  “I’ll say a tentative yes. Maria can cover for me.”

  “Great. But then we also have a Saturday and a Sunday invitation.”

  “Hmm. What are they?”

  “Saturday at Britt’s gallery. She’s showing a painting by Prudence Cantwell.”

  His brows went up. “That one I definitely want to attend. I assume her family will be there; sometimes it’s easier to talk to people in a casual setting than in a formal one. So far the Cantwells have helped not at all. You’ve actually learned more than I have—this yearbook and Prue’s showing. Yeah, we’ll be going to that one, and you put your observation goggles on.”

  “Okay. I like it when we’re cop partners,” I said.

  Parker grinned. “What’s Sunday?”

  “Cam and Fina want to have us over.”

  He nodded. “That’s fine, but I’ll have to work first. Maria can take second shift. So tell them dinnertime.”

  “Great! I’m so excited that I get to show you off to everyone.”

  “Like I just did with you?”

  “I did feel like I was being scrutinized. Is that because they’re all cops?”

  “It’s because you’re lovely, and because they all want to see Parker’s girlfriend. They probably didn’t believe I had one.”

  “Seriously? They probably thought you had twelve.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve always been a devoted-to-the-job kind of guy.”

  “Now you’re devoted to Lilah.” I pulled his head down toward me and gave him a warm kiss. Then, reluctantly, I moved away. “Do you need that yearbook, or can I give it back to Will?”

  “I’ll bring it back to Haven tomorrow. Then I can mooch some food like always.”

  I laughed. “Esther has you figured out, although she seems to love feeding you.”

  “Just like you.” He took my hand and walked me to the door. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  Maria Grimaldi appeared at the door, holding an apple and looking vaguely like a model in a police station shoot. “Here’s dinner,” she said cheerfully. “So what’s so important, Lilah?”

  Jay handed her the book, open to Cash’s note, and pointed. She read it and frowned, and suddenly I remembered that Maria’s niece had a crush on Cash. Maria exchanged a look with Parker that I did not understand; it was clear that, Parker’s girlfriend or not, I would not be privy to cop conversations about suspects.

  “I’m sure it’s not Cash,” I said. “He was very philosophical today about his father’s death.”

  “Today?” Maria and Parker asked in unison.

  “Oh—yeah, I forgot to mention. I ran into him and Peach at the bookstore, and he was saying that it was sad his dad died on his birthday, just like Cassius in Julius Caesar. The character he’s named for. And he told me how his dad chose the name and everything. He clearly misses his father.”

  Parker and Grimaldi looked unmoved. “Murderers can be sad about what they’ve done,” Grimaldi said. “They often are, in fact.” She gave the book back to Jay and sighed. “Let’s hope that in this case you’re right, Lilah.”

  When I left they were talking, their heads close together. At one time that would have made me insanely jealous, but now I felt quite content, because I genuinely believed that Parker cared about only one woman.

  • • •

  I DROVE HOME through a Pine Haven fragrant with spring while my CD player regaled me with Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” and I tried to sing along. It put me in a reverent mood, and when I reached my little house, I reunited with a joyful Mick, snapped on his leash, and headed down the driveway for our evening walk. As I passed Britt and Terry’s place, I noticed that Terry was kneeling under one window, snipping some lilacs from a low bush.

  “Hey, Terry.”

  Terry jumped up and turned to face us. “Hey, guys! Taking the ol’ evening constitutional?”

  “Yeah. Wow, those flowers smell good. Your yard is an exercise in sensory pleasure.”

  “Britt is the one who loves the flowers. I had a lot of these trees put in when she and I first got together.”

  Even in the dusky light I could see a shadow pass over his face. Terry was always cheerful, always positive, so it was odd to see him looking—what? At best his expression was pensive; at worst it might even have signaled sadness. “Is everything okay, Terry?”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, I think so. I mean—have you noticed anything weird about Britt lately?”

  “Weird? She seemed fine yesterday when we were talking to Prue Cantwell. Although . . .”

  “Although what? You noticed something?”

  “She just seemed to get bummed out at the end, after Prue left. She looked sort of sad, but she didn’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yeah, exactly! She doesn’t want to talk to me, either, but something’s clearly bugging her.” He sighed and stared at the lilacs in his hands, as though he had forgotten they were there. Then he looked at me with a new gleam in his eyes. “Listen, Lilah. You know I love Britt and we’ve always been good together, but I’m a guy, and
I ran out of ways to try to talk to her about whatever is going on. But I care, you know? I guess I’m just not saying the stuff she wants to hear. Is there any way—can you approach her, woman to woman, and try to find out what’s up? She just hasn’t been herself. I miss my happy Britta.”

  “I don’t know if you really want me in the middle of things, Terry—”

  “I do. I’d really appreciate it, Lilah.”

  I sighed. It didn’t seem like a good idea, but Britt and Terry were my good friends, and they were always ready to help me when I needed their aid. At Christmas, they had offered me a bedroom when my broken window was being replaced. “Okay. I will definitely try to talk with her soon. I’m going to her gallery Saturday, so if I don’t catch her before then, I can try some time Saturday night, if things aren’t too busy for her. Would that be okay?”

  “Yeah, that’s great. And afterward, maybe you can spare a minute to fill me in. Whatever you hear, okay?”

  I must not have looked enthusiastic, because he said, “You don’t know how much I appreciate this, Lilah. I know I always seem happy-go-lucky, and I mostly am. But Britt is my weakness. I really love her, and I—lately I’ve started to think I’m going to lose her.”

  I put my free hand on his arm. “I’m sure that’s not it, Terry. Don’t jump to the worst scenario. She might just be having a sad spell. I’ll talk to her.”

  “You’re the best,” he said with a big smile. “You want some lilacs?”

  I laughed. “No, thanks. Britt already gave me a bunch of cherry blossoms, and my house smells like heaven.”

  Mick tugged on the leash, impatient, and I began to walk. I waved at Terry and shouted a friendly good night. He waved, looking more vulnerable than I had ever seen him.

  As Mick and I turned out of the long driveway onto Dickens Street, I said, “Boy, love sure can mess people up, can’t it, Mick?”

  Mick, who was leading our expedition, was facing away from me, but I thought I saw his head nodding slightly as he marched down the sidewalk.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  After work on Thursday I rushed home, gave Mick an abbreviated walk, and then chose my wardrobe for the photo session. The first outfit was an apricot-colored dress with a square neckline; Parker had admired it once and said that the color looked nice with my hair. The second choice was a flowery spring romper with a feminine collar that I thought would look romantic in pictures. The third choice—the one the photographer had said should be sexy—was a silky chocolate brown blouse with a short black skirt. I had received the blouse as a gift from Serafina but had never worn it because it had no buttons or zippers, just two overlapping front silk panels. The effect was something outrageously low-cut, suitable only for a model on location in a casino or on a yacht. I would have to wear it without a bra, and I supposed if it were just for a photo it could look quite nice, as long as I didn’t have to interact with anyone or try to move my arms or function in a real-life way. As a fantasy, the blouse was perfect.

  When Wade Glenning arrived with a young assistant, who looked a bit like a frightened rabbit, he approved of my choices; I was wearing the flowery romper, and he said that it had a Victorian look. “Sort of like a girl in a locket,” he said. “I can make something of that.” He strolled around the house and then said, “Your kitchen has the best light. Let’s work in there.”

  He took one of the high stools from my counter and set it in the center of the room. The assistant, a college photography major he introduced as Stella, took a little comb and flicked it carefully through my hair. She breathed rather loudly in my ear and made me feel nervous.

  Wade positioned himself at the window, with the light at his back, and worked on securing his camera into a tripod. He was more handsome than I remembered from the party, with a head of thick brown hair and an intense expression that some girls might have thought of as soulful. He smiled at me while he worked. “So you were at the Cantwell thing the other day. What did you make of that whole scene?”

  I tried to smooth my hair, at which point Stella darted in and started flicking her comb through it again. “Oh, it was terrible. I feel bad for all the kids. They seem like a pretty close-knit group, considering they’re stepsiblings.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I only really know Cash—he’s the cool one. And I sort of know Prudence. She hit on me one time, but I shut that down.” He smiled a little at the memory. “Stell, can you go out to the car and grab my other lens? I didn’t find it in this bag.”

  Stella darted down the hall and out the front door.

  “Prue Cantwell really hit on you? It seems like you could do a lot worse than Prue Cantwell, by the way.”

  “Oh, no doubt. She’s gorgeous. But like I said, Cash is my friend, and I wouldn’t want to jeopardize that by getting involved with his family. They seem—complicated.”

  “Yeah, I guess. But every family has its issues, right?”

  “Lift up your chin; let me check the light here. Good. The light is just perfect right now; it’s making your hair glow.”

  “Great. So how long have you known Cash?”

  Stella ran in with the new lens and then moved to Glenning’s photo bag to root around.

  He thought about my question while he snapped a few test shots. “About two years. He was still in school, I know, and I had just graduated. I have this friend Amber and she knew Cash. At one point we were at the same party, and she introduced us, and we hit it off. And we’ve been friends ever since.”

  “And Amber? Is she still his friend, too?”

  His face grew shuttered. “Absolutely. She’ll always be his friend.”

  I thought that was a weird response, but I didn’t have time to think, because his instructions began. Tilt your head; smile gently; now smile with your teeth; now be serious. I realized that I would make a terrible model, because I felt weirdly conscious of my face and was forgetting how to make it do things.

  Wade seemed to sense this. “Okay, I want you to pretend that there’s something in your backyard, but you can’t quite get it in focus. Look out there—it’s a mystery! What is that thing? Good. Good.” He snapped some more pictures while I stared at the mysterious thing that wasn’t there.

  “Okay. I’ve got some great ones in this outfit. You want to change into the dress now?”

  “Sure.”

  “Do you want Stella to help you?”

  Stella looked about as eager to help me as I was to have her help. “Oh, no, thanks—I’ve got it.” Stella looked relieved. She pushed her dark hair behind her ears and knelt to pet Mick.

  I changed in my room upstairs, swiftly, since I knew my session was short. I came back, and Wade took me all the way outside and had me pose under my budding elm tree. This time I was instructed to look playful. “It’s not winter, but pretend you have a snowball, and you’re waiting for someone—who would you like to ambush with a snowball?”

  “My brother,” I said.

  “Okay, so your brother is about to come around the corner. You’re about to nail him. Imagine how that would make you feel. Great! Very playful. That’s a good one, Lilah.” Click, click, click. “And now, think about his face after he gets hit with the snowball. Well, that’s an interesting expression! Do you hate your brother or something?”

  “No, not at all. We just enjoy hassling each other. And in fact last winter Cam happened to surprise me with a snowball during the Christmas holidays, and he laughed for far too long.”

  He chuckled and took a few more shots, posing me under the tree, near my little barn of a garage, and against the fence, studying the one tulip I had in my garden. Occasionally he ordered Stella to hold up a weird thing that looked like an umbrella.

  I sent him what I hoped was a casual glance. “So not to be nosy, but who’s this Amber? I thought Cash liked Lola.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “You have the inside scoop, huh? We
ll, it’s kind of complicated, but no, he’s not involved with Amber. Not that way, at least. I don’t know. I mean, it’s Cash’s business, but—anyway, I like Lola. She’s a nice girl.”

  “She seems to still have feelings for him, but he doesn’t realize it. That seems to be going around lately.”

  He raised his brows again. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, just some people I work with. Same kind of dynamic.”

  “Huh. Yeah, Cash is the type who will always have the ladies around him. He’s got charisma.” His face was something between respectful and jealous. “We can go in now.”

  As we walked back toward the sliding glass door of my kitchen, I said, “You have charisma, too. You’ve made me feel very comfortable doing this, and I was afraid it would be worse than awkward.”

  “Thanks! That was really nice of you to say.” We went inside and he leaned against my kitchen island. He held his camera at his waist and pressed some buttons. “Oh yeah—these look great. Okay—you can switch into your evening outfit now.”

  That sounded strange, but I went inside and ran upstairs to don the brown silk blouse. When I returned to the kitchen, Wade nodded his approval, and even the seemingly emotionless Stella gave me a thumbs-up. “That’s great,” Glenning said. “The color brings out your hair and your eyes. Okay, I’m not making a pass, but let me just adjust this a little bit.” He lifted the material at my shoulders and shifted the blouse around a bit. “There. Great.” He was looking at his camera when he said, “So, you’re pretty and you know Cash. I’m wondering if you and he were ever an item.”