[Cutthroat Business 01.0 - 03.0] Boxed Set

by Jenna Bennett

  “I know you did,” I said.

  Todd’s eyes narrowed further, and he started breathing through his nose. “Did he spend the night?”

  “No, of course not.” I sighed exasperatedly. “My goodness, how stupid do you think I am? And how many times do I have to say it? There’s nothing going on with Rafe and me. We just talk once in a while, that’s all.”

  “About what?”

  I put my fork down. The conversation had made me lose what little appetite I had started with. “This and that. Life. Small-talk. Nothing in particular, mostly. This time I told him about my conversation with Lila, because it was on my mind.”

  “And what did he say?”

  I rolled my eyes. “That I shouldn’t make the same suggestion Lila did if the open house robbers stop by during my open house tomorrow.”

  “Hmph!” Todd said. I shrugged. “You don’t suppose he might have had a hand in either the robbery or your friend’s death, do you?”

  “No,” I said firmly, “I don’t.” And I was only answering the second part of the question, not the first; although of course Todd didn’t know that. “I refuse to believe that someone I know is capable of strangling an innocent woman.”

  “There’s not much I’d put past Rafael Collier,” Todd said darkly.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” I answered, in much the same tone, “but he’s never laid a finger on me, and I’ve never heard of him forcing himself on another woman, either. Frankly, I don’t think he has to. I’ve seen the way women react to him.”

  I stopped, wondering what the hell had compelled me to add that last sentence, and to Todd, of all people, who couldn’t be trusted to know a bit of lighthearted humor if it jumped up and bit him in the nose. He flushed to the roots of his sandy hair. “When have you had occasion to see how women react to him? I didn’t think you spent all that much time together.”

  “We don’t. But I saw the women at Brenda’s funeral, and the staff at Mrs. Jenkins’s nursing home, and Marquita Johnson, and Detective Grimaldi, and Tim...”

  “Tim?”

  “Timothy Briggs. He’s gay. Look, I’m sorry I mentioned it. I just don’t like the idea that someone I know is capable of something like this. Until I have definite proof to the contrary, I’d prefer to believe that Rafe is innocent of anything worse than misrepresenting his income for tax-purposes. OK? I see him occasionally, and it would make me feel better to believe that he’s harmless.”

  “All right,” Todd said. But he didn’t sound like it was. It wasn’t long after that he asked me if I was ready to leave, and we headed for downtown and the performing arts center.

  I wish I could say that I enjoyed the show, but honestly, I was too busy running things over in my head to hear the music at all. I watched the Phantom’s preoccupation with Christine and wondered if perhaps someone had had a similar obsession with Lila. A friend or boyfriend, or coworker or neighbor, who had heard about her remark to the robber last week, and who had decided to take advantage of it. The death might not even have been premeditated; the sex could have become rougher than Lila wanted, and she might have objected, and the murderer was trying to keep her quiet and went too far.

  I was quiet myself on the way home, pleading over-stimulation after the spectacle we’d just seen. Todd was remarkably understanding; in fact, he was pretty quiet himself. Maybe the music and colors had affected him, too. As soon as we turned onto Main Street, I started looking around for Rafe’s motorcycle. He hadn’t called – and this time I’d wanted him to! – so I figured he’d turn up in person sooner or later, like he was wont to do. I didn’t see him outside the building, but I kept an eye out as we walked upstairs. Todd looked around, too, warily. And when he kissed me goodnight outside the door, I had to consciously tell myself to close my eyes instead of trying to peer past his ears into the shadows further down the hallway.

  Todd left, frowning slightly, and I went into the apartment. I stopped just inside the door, without turning on the light, and waited. But there was no sign of life; no breathing, no foreign smells, no electricity in the air from another human body. Nevertheless, I turned on every light in the apartment and went through it, room by room. It was empty.

  I fully expected to hear a knock on the door as soon as Todd had pulled away from the curb, but none came. After a suitable interval of waiting, I decided I might as well sit down. I couldn’t take my dress off, of course – the idea of receiving a strange man, especially Rafe Collier, in my nightgown was unthinkable – but I removed my contacts and kicked my heels off and curled up on the sofa. And there I stayed, watching late-night reruns of ‘The Cosby Show’ – ‘CSI’ cut too close to the bone – until I fell asleep.

  When I woke up it was morning, and the sun was shining through the balcony doors. I was still alone, not that I’d expected otherwise. I was finally able to get out of the cocktail dress, which would be going straight to the cleaners to have the wrinkles removed, and then I spent the morning at home, just so Rafe could find me if he wanted to. But either he didn’t want to, or he couldn’t, because he didn’t show up. At a few minutes before noon, the phone rang, and I flung myself across the coffee table to snatch it up.

  “It’s about time you called!”

  “Gee,” a male voice said, “I didn’t know you were waiting.”

  I blushed. Oops. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

  My brother’s voice was dry. “You don’t say? Would you like me to guess, or do you want to tell me?”

  My brother Dixon is two years older than me, and a typical big brother. He worries about the men in my life and enjoys picking on me. He is not, however, in the habit of calling for no reason. We’re not that close. Or rather, we’re just as close as most brothers and sisters, but we don’t live in each other’s pockets. We see each other every few weeks, when I drive down to Sweetwater for a visit or – more rarely – when Dix has business in Nashville, and we talk when there’s something on either of our mind’s, but not usually otherwise.

  “Neither,” I said firmly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. If by wrong you mean illness or accident befalling one of our family members. Sheila is fine, and so are the girls. Catherine and her brood seem OK, and mom’s… well, mom.”

  “So what is it?”

  “Can’t you guess? I saw Todd at church this morning, and he told me that you’re still seeing Collier.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not seeing Rafe. I just see him once in a while. Haven’t we already been over this?”

  Dix said we had. “And I thought we settled it then. Until Todd told me you had a date with him at ten o’clock one night this week.”

  “First off,” I said, flushing irritably, “it was not a date. I needed to talk to him about something, so I left him a message, and instead of calling back, he showed up on my doorstep. I was the one who had asked to talk to him, so I couldn’t very well turn him away. He only stayed for about fifteen minutes, just long enough to drink a glass of iced tea, and then he left again. And secondly, where does Todd get off spreading my personal business around to everyone he knows?”

  “I’m hardly everyone,” Dix said reasonably. “I’m your brother, and his best friend; it’s only natural that he would confide in me.”

  I had to concede his point. Not because I wanted to. “Maybe so. What’s not natural, however, is that none of you believe me when I say I’m not seeing Rafe. I don’t understand why everyone believes Todd, but you won’t believe me.”

  “We know you,” Dix said. I resisted the temptation to stick my tongue out at the phone and then decided that since he couldn’t see me anyway, I might as well.

  “What do you mean?” I said self-righteously when my tongue was back inside my mouth. “I don’t usually lie; everyone knows that.”

  “Only because you’re the worst liar in the world,” Dix retorted. “You blush, you fidget, you play with your hair... Everyone can see right through you, and you know it, so you don’t eve
n bother to try anymore.”

  “But you figure that since you can’t see me now, I’m lying to you? Todd could see me when he asked. Why doesn’t he believe me?”

  “He’s jealous,” Dix said. “He was in love with you in high school, but then you married that jerk Ferguson in college, and Todd married Jolynn because she reminded him of you. Then Ferguson divorced you, and Todd divorced Jolynn, and now he wants to be with you again. But he’s afraid that after what happened with Ferguson, you’re feeling so undesirable and unwanted that you’ll let yourself be swept off your feet by some slick operator like Rafael Collier, who’s only after one thing.”

  I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or swear. “Todd actually said that?”

  “I read between the lines,” Dix answered. “We’re guys, sis. We don’t talk like that.”

  “Right. For the record, I was the one who divorced Bradley, not vice versa. You know that. I’m sure he would have gotten around to it eventually, considering how quickly he tied the knot with Shelby after our divorce was final, but at the time, he seemed perfectly content to be married and sleeping around on me. You may want to reacquaint Todd with that fact. And I don’t actually feel that undesirable. Between Todd gearing up to propose and Rafe doing his best to talk me into bed, I’m feeling wanted all over the place.”

  “He’s doing what?” Dix said.

  “Todd is thinking about proposing and Rafe is trying to talk me into bed.”

  “The bastard!”

  I hid a smile. “Bob and Pauline Satterfield were legally married when Todd was born.”

  “Funny,” Dix grumbled. “I’m not talking about Todd, as you very well know. And you can’t say the same thing for your other boyfriend, can you?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend. Neither of them is. But no, I can’t.”

  Like every other girl in Sweetwater, I had grown up hearing the story of LaDonna Collier. My mother, a delicate Southern beauty who could trace her antecedents back to the War Between the States and beyond – that’s the Civil War to those of you born north of the Mason-Dixon Line – had lowered her voice when she spoke of it. “That poor girl. Just fourteen when it happened.”

  “When what happened?”

  Mother leaned closer to me. “She got herself in the family way. By a colored boy.”

  “Oh,” I’d said, disappointed. I had envisioned something more titillating than a mere pregnancy.

  Mother had nodded, and added pensively, “I knew LaDonna slightly. She was a few years younger than me, of course, and common as dirt, so we didn’t associate.” She’d smoothed a manicured hand over her impeccably styled, blonde hair.

  “Of course not,” I’d agreed. In the throes of that romantic stage every girl goes through in her teens, I must admit I had harbored sneaking sympathy for LaDonna Collier. In my juvenile mind, the story had a hint of Romeo and Juliet about it, and although I’m sure it hadn’t been romantic for LaDonna, pregnant at fourteen with a baby whose father was nowhere to be found, I hadn’t known any better.

  “It wasn’t Tyrell Jenkins’s fault that he was shot before he could get around to marrying LaDonna,” I said now. “And Rafe can’t help who his parents were any more than you or I or Todd can.”

  “He can help that he’s thinking of nailing my sister!” Dix said in a muted roar. I suppressed a giggle. My brother is always so perfectly proper – a true Southern gentleman, as mother would say – that it was fun to listen to him lose his cool. Nevertheless, I felt I had to set him straight.

  “He’s a man, Dix. Of course he’s thinking of – as you so elegantly put it – nailing your sister. It’s what men do. Todd’s probably thinking about it, too; he’s just not ill-bred enough to come right out and say so.”

  “So you agree that he’s ill-bred?”

  “Of course he’s ill-bred,” I said. “He grew up in the Bog, for God’s sake. How could he not be? And it’s not like I’m thinking of agreeing to it, you know.”

  “So you’re not involved with him? Not even a little?”

  “No, of course not. I’m not in love with him. I’m not sleeping with him. And I’ve only kissed him once, and don’t want to do it again.”

  “That’s good,” Dix said, in a strangled voice. I hid another grin. “But it was him you were waiting for to call, wasn’t it?”

  Busted. “Yes, it was.”

  “Why?”

  I took a steadying breath. “A friend of mine died yesterday. Lila Vaughn; the girl who was on the news last week, after that second open house robbery.”

  “Todd told me,” Dix said. “What’s her connection with Collier?”

  I took another breath. Dix is absolutely correct regarding my talent for prevarication. Or my lack thereof. I’m a bad liar, and this was coming too close to lying for comfort. “I believe they... um... met once, and I wanted to tell him about it before he read it in the paper. I left a message for him yesterday afternoon, but he hasn’t gotten in touch yet. When the phone rang, I assumed it was him.”

  “Sorry,” Dix said, not too sincerely. I gathered he didn’t think Rafe’s feelings were worth sparing.

  “No problem. I’m always happy to hear from my favorite brother.”

  “I’m your only brother.”

  “That’s probably why you’re my favorite. Incidentally, did mom hear what Todd told you? Or did he have enough sense to tell you in private, so she wouldn’t have a heart attack?”

  “You’re off the hook,” Dix said, and added ominously, “for now. It was just him and me when he blurted it out. Although I wouldn’t count on that lasting. If Todd thinks that telling mom will make her lean on you, he’s not above using her. He knows we all rush to obey when mom speaks.”

  “I would have thought, in your boys-together sort of way, you’d stick up for Todd and chew me out.”

  “It doesn’t sound like you’ve done anything I can chew you out for,” Dix said, a little grudgingly. “I’d prefer that you had no association with Collier whatsoever, but if you’re not sleeping with him, or in love with him, there’s not much I can do. I’m not your keeper. I can’t lock you in your room and refuse to let you out until you agree to marry the suitor I choose. Believe it or not, sis, all I want – all we all want – is for you to be safe and happy.”

  “Thanks, Dix,” I said, touched, “that’s so sweet.”

  “Of course, I think you’d have a much better chance of both happiness and safety if you chose someone like Todd, who wouldn’t lie and cheat and break your heart, but that’s up to you.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, “after Bradley, the last thing I want is another liar and cheat. Next time I pick a boyfriend, if there is a next time, I’ll make sure that he’s the faithful sort, at least.”

  “That’s good to know,” Dix said. “I guess I should go.”

  “That might not be a bad idea. I’m hosting an open house at 2 o’clock, and I have to get ready.”

  “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

  “Of course I will,” I said. “I’m sure the open house robbers have more important things on their minds today than robbing another house, but even if they do show up, I’m pretty sure I don’t have anything to fear from them.”

  “They killed your friend Lila,” Dix said.

  “No, they didn’t.”

  “I read the paper. The police are clear about the connection.”

  “Nevertheless, I don’t believe they did. I just... don’t.”

  Dix’s voice radiated disbelief. “Well, be careful anyway, sis. OK?”

  I promised I would, and we hung up.

  Chapter Seven

  When I left my apartment an hour later, I was dressed, made up, and blow-dried to the max, presenting to the world the very image of the polished, professional Realtor. I fully expected to find Rafe lounging against my front fender when I got down to the parking lot, but I was wrong. He also wasn’t inside the car, nor anywhere on the street. I inserted myself into the Volvo and pulled out of the lot lamen
ting my bad luck or more accurately, bad judgment. Obviously I had overestimated the impact my threats had had on Marquita. She couldn’t be trusted to pass my message on to Rafe after all.

  You may wonder why I didn’t just call and leave another message with Wendell. It had worked last time, after all. Well, the reason is really very simple. If Rafe was involved in the robberies – or the murder, although I didn’t really believe that – then chances were that Wendell was involved as well. That would explain the changing identities of the businesses he ran, from car lot to pawn shop to storage place. I’d only met him once, and he’d seemed to be practically personality-less, but I hadn’t been too chatty that evening myself. Rafe had sent him to pick me up for that date-that-wasn’t-a-date last week, instead of coming to get me on his Harley-Davidson, and I’d been nervous about having dinner with Rafe and nervous about going anywhere with Wendell and just plain nervous in general because two of my coworkers had been murdered in the span of a week... and to make a long story short, I hadn’t taken the opportunity to get to know Wendell. Now I wished I had. But anyway, under the circumstances I thought it was better not to call his number looking for Rafe. By now Rafe had probably heard the news about Lila on his own, at any rate.

  The house that Tim had assigned to me was located a whole quarter mile from the house where Lila had been robbed – in the same subdivision, no less – and no more than a half mile from Kieran’s listing, in a development just up the road. I was so close to both that I had to resist the temptation to stop in and have a look around. But I didn’t really have the time, and both were occupied, anyway, so if I wanted to go inside, I’d have to schedule appointments first, to give the owners time to clear out. I made a mental note to do so tomorrow, since I didn’t have anything else to do until I met Charlene and Gary Lee at 3:30.

  Who knew, maybe I’d pick up on some connection the police had missed.

  Like both the other two, my open house was a typical McMansion, built sometime within the past five years by someone with delusions of grandeur and the money to indulge their whims. It was a pseudo-French Chateau in honey-colored stucco, on a postage-stamp sized lot in the middle of an upscale development of similar houses. A black Mercedes SUV was idling in the circular drive, and just as I pulled in behind it, a woman came out of the house and down the stairs. When she saw me, she slowed. “Can I help you?”