Drive-Bye (The Belinda & Bennett Mysteries, Book Three)

by Amy Saunders

  Then when she got back to her room, she discovered she'd packed fifteen pairs of panties and all her toiletries and makeup, but no clothes or pajamas. And her regular clothes were gross because that afternoon had been muggy and she was sweaty and nasty by the time she hauled everything into her car and then into the inn. After debating what to do, she curled up under the covers in her lingerie.

  Belinda was so dead to the world that night that she couldn't remember any of her dreams, which was probably just as well. Especially if they involved Bennett on trial or the dead girl whose face she kept seeing when she shut her eyes.

  The next morning, her growling stomach woke her up much earlier than she cared for. After rearranging her hair, brushing her teeth, and washing her face, Belinda found herself climbing downstairs again in her bridesmaid dress and heels. She escaped the hallways without running into anyone, and thought she was all clear when she saw the back of a familiar head again.

  Bennett stood in the lobby in jeans and a T-shirt and a five o'clock shadow. Quite a contrast to his wedding look. But with his physique in the cut of those jeans and that shirt, he didn't need anything fancier.

  Bennett said hello with his lips.

  "You have ruined my plans of slipping out unnoticed." Belinda sighed. "My feet are already killing me." She was dying to sit down after wearing the heels for five minutes. Her feet had rejected them before she even put them on.

  "I did give you strict orders about those shoes." Bennett used that as an excuse to look her over, not bothering to hide that he liked what he saw. "You want to eat, don't you? They have stuffed French toast on the menu."

  Belinda did want to eat and, of course, would hardly turn down stuffed French toast any other time. But she also knew the restaurant was pricey, and with his SUV downgrade, she was worried it might be too much of a budget strain for him right now.

  She stood there trying to figure out how she could politely offer to pay until Bennett finally asked, "You're going to turn down French toast? Stuffed French toast?"

  "Well...I was just thinking maybe I could go home and change quickly and meet you at that little breakfast place near the house." It was cheaper, but still tasty.

  "But we're right here. And I'm hungry. Now."

  "Then let's just go straight there."

  Bennett glanced back at the French doors propped open into the restaurant. "Is there someone in there you want to avoid? Because I can't see any other reason for you to turn down stuffed French toast."

  Not improbable, but he made her sound like a glutton. "No. It's just..." She couldn't think of an excuse. "Okay. But it's my treat."

  Bennett gazed down at her, crossing his arms. "What's going on?"

  "We're discussing breakfast options."

  "No. You are discussing breakfast options, I am asking you why."

  Belinda opened her mouth to answer, but was blank, and a squeak like air leaking from a balloon issued from her mouth instead of words.

  "Why did you say it's your treat?" His face was slowly hardening like the caramel sauce they drizzled on some of the cupcakes.

  "I, um, just...we're doing good and I figure I should share the wealth."

  "You've just started and are barely breaking even on your investment."

  That was a cheery perspective on their situation. "I want to be nice. What's wrong with that?"

  "You've never offered to pay–just to be nice–before."

  So she was a glutton and completely selfish.

  "I'm fine, Belinda."

  "But–"

  He didn't stick around to hear what she had to say, and was apparently going to eat breakfast with or without her. So she hiked up her skirt and scuttled after his stiff march into the restaurant.

  Indirect sunlight came in through the windows of the dining room, which faced the side lawn. Belinda stared out at the water, since Bennett was not in a talking mood now. She'd successfully ruined that part of the morning. She peeked at him while pretending to decide what to order, but only his chin twitched now and again like when he tensed up from anger.

  Across the room, she caught the glances of a youngish man in a T-shirt and shorts with glasses and long sideburns. He had a computer tablet out on the table and sipped his coffee alone.

  "He followed us," Bennett said casually, not even glancing up. "He was waiting outside when I got here."

  "I told you we should've gone somewhere else."

  "You don't think they could find you at another restaurant?"

  "This one was too easy. At least we might have stood a chance of eating in peace at another place."

  "We are in peace."

  "Except for his staring and stealth photos, sure. And where there's one, there's more. They're like cockroaches."

  "Just ignore him."

  Once the waiter was gone, Belinda wasn't positive what she'd ordered. She was too busy trying to figure out how to apologize to Bennett, and avoid looking in the other guy's direction. It felt like she just kept rattling off items on the menu.

  While they waited for their food in awkward silence, someone stopped in the entryway, scanning the room. Belinda waved. Jonas smiled wide and strode toward them. As he got closer, she could see how tired he looked.

  "What are you doing here?" she said.

  He shook Bennett's hand, then took the seat at the table next to theirs. He ran his fingers through his light brown hair, which was going every which way. Even after he tried to repair it, it was still a mess. Not able to sit there and look at him like that, Belinda stood and put all the hairs in their rightful places.

  Jonas grinned. "Thank you."

  "It's good to see you." Then she checked herself. "But whisper. We have an audience."

  Jonas glanced at Bennett. "First table on the left near the entrance?" Belinda raised her eyebrows in surprise. "I've seen him before. Some sort of blogger, I think."

  Jonas watched in awe as their server set five plates before Belinda. "What a woman."

  "You should see her when she's really hungry," Bennett said, with a touch of acid in his voice.

  Belinda flushed. After inferring he couldn't afford this place, she'd ordered four sides with her French toast, orange juice, and coffee.

  Jonas glanced curiously from Bennett to Belinda. "The wedding of the century was yesterday, right?"

  "Done and done," she said, stuffing her face with cream cheese and bread.

  Jonas liked the looks of what Belinda was filling her mouth and stomach with and ordered the same for himself.

  He leaned to the side to see her better. "Nice dress."

  "Do you think so? I've had it on for close to twenty-four hours now."

  "You wear it well," Jonas said dryly.

  Bennett's eyes rolled up to Belinda, and the two men sat there appraising her. She realized she was hunching and forced herself to sit up straight. "What am I? A sports car?"

  "Italian made," Bennett remarked to Jonas. "You can tell by all the curves."

  Belinda dropped her fork onto her plate and folded her arms on the table. "If you two are going to continue to treat me as if I'm not sitting right here, I'm going home so I can change my clothes."

  Jonas held his hands up in surrender.

  "So what's brought you here?" she said. Bennett reached across the table to steal a piece of bacon.

  "You two saw the crash on Ocean Ave., right?" Jonas said.

  They nodded. "Are you involved in the investigation because of the girl...who died?" Belinda said.

  "I wish it was that straightforward." Jonas poured cream from a small silver pitcher into his coffee. "I'm afraid she was already dead when the boys crashed into the house."

  Belinda just managed to avoid choking on her coffee. "Already dead?"

  "They didn't kill her," Jonas said flatly. "Someone else already had."

  Bennett twisted to the side so he could see Jonas better while he filled them in on some of the details.

  "She's not a resident of the house," Jonas added, "
but the security system had been disabled, so she may know the residents. We're trying to contact the homeowners."

  "Who lives there?" Belinda figured she'd at least seen the homeowners at some point.

  "Uh...the Wolmans. Know'em?"

  The name did sound familiar. "I'll have to consult my little black book. Or my mom." Belinda stood up and squeezed between the two tables. Maybe four sides was a bit much, even for a post-wedding meal. "Unfortunately, I have to get going. Mia and I have a full afternoon of cupcake selling ahead of us."

  Bennett turned, draping his arm over the back of his chair. "Are you going to say good-bye?"

  Belinda put her hands on her hips and bent over to kiss him. Jonas focused on his newly acquired food and not staring at Belinda's shapely rear view. She leaned back up and played with strands of Bennett's sable hair. It never needed straightening, but she liked to pretend and fiddle with it anyway.

  "See you boys later!" Belinda waved as she tried not to limp out of the dining room with the reporter probably taking pictures of her under the table. The blisters on her toes were starting to scream. But she put up a good front, flashing a bright smile as she passed.

  Bennett set his eyes on Jonas once Belinda was out of view. "Were you staring at my girlfriend's butt?"

  Jonas paused. "No."

  Bennett counted out money for the bill, smirking. "I'll take it as a compliment."

  Chapter 3

  Once assured Belinda was out of earshot, Jonas finally addressed what had been bothering him through most of their conversation. "What was that all about?"

  Bennett swirled remnants of coffee in his white cup. "What was what all about?"

  "Your insinuating Belinda eats too much." So much for the two of them brightening his mood. Belinda was trying, but it was obvious they were in some kind of tiff.

  "Did you see all that food she scarfed down?"

  Jonas shrugged. "She's starved herself for weeks for this. So what?"

  Bennett sighed. When he closed his eyes, he looked really weary. Not necessarily like he was physically tired, just emotionally exhausted.

  Jonas knew Bennett was stressed out. He'd caught him cleaning his house, his car, his kayak, and various other things almost every time he stopped by his home lately. And that was one of the many things he'd learned about Bennett when they roomed together. When Bennett got stressed, he cleaned. Part of him wanted to ask Bennett to go clean his apartment.

  "She thinks I don't have enough money to eat here," Bennett said after a long pause.

  "Do you?"

  Bennett slipped him a sideways glare.

  "I'm just asking."

  "Are you going to mother me, too?"

  "Your mother doesn't even mother you, so I think someone should."

  "I'm fine."

  Clearly not, but Jonas dropped it. He wasn't in the mood to battle it out. "How's the job hunt?"

  "Thrilling."

  So that was going great as well. Perfect. Lately, there had been very few safe topics. Everything in Bennett's life was pretty much a disaster. And Jonas could tell he was having a hard time pushing through. He'd seen Bennett go through some things. Bennett endured. He picked up and kept moving forward. But he was struggling to do that this time.

  But that was only part of it. From the looks and sounds of things, he'd been spending a lot of time out on his kayak and running. That meant he was angry. While Jonas felt that was perfectly normal given the circumstances, he was afraid that Bennett was starting to feel resentful toward Belinda as a result. After all, this stemmed back to something that happened with her.

  Oh, yeah. Jonas knew.

  Not the exact circumstances, mind you, but he knew it came back to Belinda.

  But Bennett had made his choice. He really couldn't blame her for that.

  "You'll find something," Jonas said. "You're a hard worker."

  He threw his tip on the table and followed Bennett out, who was in some kind of hurry. Maybe to get away from Jonas and his questions. "Late for something?" he said.

  "I don't want to see Belinda's family."

  There was now a gap between their cars where Belinda's Mini had been. "I take it that was also thrilling."

  Bennett's eyebrows pinched together. "I'll fill you in later."

  "Fair enough." It might not be safe to talk in such close range. "Au revoir, then?"

  "You can say that if you want." Bennett slammed his door shut and drove off.

  "Love you, too," Jonas muttered to himself, and answered his phone. One of his colleagues had news about their victim's employment. She was a house cleaner.

  He headed straight to the Portside House Cleaning office, located on a main street in town. It was tucked inside a strip of offices with dark shingled siding and a gabled roof. They were in between a lawyer's office and a pet groomer.

  The manager led him through the small office into her personal space in back. She was probably in her fifties, a little pudgy with short hair the color of honey. From her conservative suit to diamond earrings, Jonas could guess the level of clientele they were catering to without knowing the Ocean Avenue addresses.

  She sat down at her desk, adjusting her suit jacket and brushing her bangs to the side, trying to keep a professional front, but coming across as very agitated by the news.

  "I'm a little surprised you didn't realize Elena was missing from work," Jonas said, sitting straighter. It was his new (silk) tie with the pink and purple stripes Belinda had given him coupled with the new gray suit and new shoes. He'd recently gone to pick out clothes with both Bennett and Belinda helping him. Now that was an experience.

  Carolyn Hartley moved in her seat again, letting out a long sigh. "I had to let Elena go. Technically, she no longer worked here as of two days ago."

  "When was she laid off?"

  She sighed again. But it wasn't irritation. It was dismay. "Two days ago."

  Jonas' eyebrows shot up. That was fast. "No two weeks notice?"

  She scratched the middle of her forehead, brushing her bangs aside again. They looked overgrown. "This was a special case. Elena used to have a drug abuse problem. I only just learned of it and was forced to let her go immediately."

  "But you didn't want to."

  "Of course I didn't want to. Elena was a good employee; a hard worker. But I had to. We have a specific type of client to please, and a reputation to protect."

  "What is your policy on former drug users?"

  "We don't hire them."

  Now that was interesting. Jonas' colleague had informed him Elena had been arrested in the past for drug use. "So you do background checks before you hire someone?"

  "Yes."

  "Did you do a background check on Elena before you hired her?"

  Hartley looked back at him for what felt like a long time before she answered. Quietly. Like the walls might hear and e-mail her employers. "No."

  Jonas leaned back, balancing one long leg on the other. "How did you find out?"

  Another pause. "One of our clients called to complain."

  "How did they learn about it?"

  "I don't know. They didn't say."

  Maybe someone had it out for Elena and tipped off one of their clients. "Did she ever clean that client's house?"

  "Yes."

  Jonas leaned forward. "Are you familiar with this address?" He recited the number and street of where Elena was killed.

  "It's a client of ours. Why?"

  "That's where Elena was killed."

  Hartley's eyes went wide.

  "I'm going to need the name of the client who learned about her problem," Jonas said.

  "They're not in town."

  Even better. "Would Elena have any reason to be in the Wolman's house? Was that her final job before she left the company for good?"

  "No." Hartley jumped when the phone rang. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" She looked anxiously at the phone. Maybe it was her boss.

  "Yeah. Do you keep copies of the homeowne
rs' keys and security codes here?"

  "Yes."

  "Then I'd like to see where you keep them."

  Carolyn ignored the phone and showed him a locked cabinet in her office.

  "Who has a key to this cabinet?" he said.

  "The owners and me. The cleaners have to come here to retrieve them and return them, and both times are accounted for."

  She opened the cabinet door where rows of keys dangled. Each key had a number attached to it. "So this is all part of a database?"

  "Yes."

  "Password protected?"

  "Of course."

  He nodded. "And nothing's been out of sync? No keys missing or never returned?"

  "No."

  "You haven't had a break in?"

  Carolyn narrowed her eyes. "Are you talking about the thefts we've been blamed for?"

  "I've heard the rumors." There was no evidence pointing to the company, but a series of thefts–with no signs of a break in–had recently been attributed to employees of this company.

  "Well, that's all they are."

  Jonas smiled, but he wasn't so positive, especially now that an employee–a former employee–had died in a client's house. No signs of a break in and the security system disabled. It was likely someone on the inside was responsible. He'd get someone down there to dust for prints, but he doubted they'd find anything unusual.

  "I have to ask where you were around midnight yesterday."

  Carolyn looked surprised. "In bed, I suppose."

  "You suppose?"

  "I don't remember exactly when I shut out the lights. I was watching TV until then."

  "Can anyone testify to it?"

  "No one but my cat."

  Hardly rock solid. And, sadly, it sounded like his own life. Jonas slipped his phone out of his inside jacket pocket. "Thanks. Let us know if you think of anything else."

  Jonas got one of his colleagues to work on the list of clients Elena cleaned for, starting with the family who ratted her out, while he focused on the other employees she was teamed with.