While Callie, Rhetta, and Pepper each launched into their adult life stories, I sat back and sipped my white wine spritzer. I considered texting Delilah and asking her to get me out of here by calling with a fake emergency at the B&B, but she would never go along with it. I knew she had to have been the one who told Tucker about our performance tonight. The bar did little to advertise for us, and since he clearly hadn’t yet spoken with any of the girls in the band, Delilah was the only person I knew of who could have given him the heads-up.
Before I realized what was happening, my three bandmates were standing, saying their goodbyes. I began to hop up as well, but Pepper placed her hands on my shoulders and held me in my chair. For as tiny as she was, she was strong.
She said, “Quinn, I know you wanted us all to stay for a while and chat, but we’ve gotta bail. I’m sure Tucker wouldn’t mind hanging with you while you finish your drink.”
Before I could object, Tucker said, “I’d love to stay with you, Quinn. It was great seeing you, ladies. I’ll be back for your performance later this week.”
As my mutinous friends left me alone with my nemesis, I began thinking up ways to get out of there fast. I could fake some nausea. Men always steered clear of a potential mess.
Tucker turned to me. “I guess it’s just the two of us.”
I pushed my drink away. “Actually, I’m going to have to go, too. I’m not feeling well.”
“Bull. You don’t want to be alone with me.”
My eyes widened. People didn’t usually call your bluff on gastrointestinal distress. I had no response.
Smiling, he leaned back in his chair. “The way I see it, you owe me.”
“Excuse me? I owe you?”
“Yeah. Without me, you have no alibi. I figure that should at least get me the honor of having one drink with you.”
Of all the nerve. I stared at him. “I owe you nothing for telling the truth to an officer of the law. It’s your civic duty.”
“I suppose that’s true, but—”
“And were you spying on me later that night as well? Officer Morrel said you told him you saw me leave the house. That was several minutes after our conversation ended.”
“I was still out on the front stoop and happened to see you walking across the square. I wasn’t spying, Quinn.” He regarded me thoughtfully. “I feel like you think I’m some kind of weirdo out to get you or something. I’m not. I’m the same Tucker you’ve known forever.”
“Oh, don’t worry. I think you’re still the same old Tucker.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
I stood. “It means that you wouldn’t give me the time of day in high school. In fact, you and your buddies took every chance to ridicule me, my sister, and my friends. But now that I’m front and center in a murder investigation, I’m suddenly interesting to you. Maybe you’re one of those true-crime fanboys or something. I don’t know. But I think I’d like it if you stayed away from me.” I turned to leave, but couldn’t help adding, “Thank you for the drink.”
* * *
—
The next morning, I threw breakfast together quickly, gaining some strange looks from Delilah and Papa Sal. Even though I wasn’t excited about what Drew and I had to do today, I wanted to have as much time as possible to speak to the people on our suspect list. I’d mentally crossed Tuttle off it, since Delilah had told me she’d seen him herself backstage after the Bitter Winter performance. Instead of admitting to her about the sleuthing mission Drew and I were on, I’d managed to get the information out of her by way of being conversational. I hadn’t told Papa Sal about any of it, either. The two of them would only worry, and I was hoping to have it all over and done with today, anyway.
When I went into the dining room to serve breakfast, there were a few empty seats at the dining table. It wasn’t too unusual to have latecomers and no-shows—the beds upstairs were pretty comfy and guests often overslept. I quickly ran through my usual “good morning” spiel, and right as Papa Sal was beginning to speak, I got a text from Drew: The police have pulled up with their lights on in front of my place. I think I’m in trouble.
Stifling a gasp, I bolted out of the room and out the front door, my feet pounding the pavement all the way to Green. I got there just as Officers Morrel and Carter were escorting Drew down the sidewalk in handcuffs.
“Wait! Wait!” I cried, gasping for air after my mad dash down the street. “You can’t…you can’t do…this.” I got between them and their police car while I tried to think of a way to stall them.
Officer Morrel frowned at me. “No, Miss Bellandini, you can’t do this. Step aside.”
Drew was speechless, staring at me with a mixture of disbelief and fear clouding his face. Officer Carter actually looked the slightest bit amused.
“Officer Morrel, wait,” I pleaded. “You don’t think this man killed his own brother, do you? Do you even have any evidence against him?”
“Yes, Miss Bellandini, when we arrest a person it’s implied that we have evidence against him.” I believed I detected a hint of sarcasm in his tone. “Out of the way. Now. Don’t think I won’t slap an obstruction of justice charge on you.”
Drew shook his head. “Quinn, don’t. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but please don’t get yourself into trouble. Can you find me a lawyer? One that won’t cost an arm and a leg, preferably.”
I nodded, stepping out of their way. “Anything, Drew.”
As Officer Carter helped Drew into the back of the police cruiser, Drew glanced up at me and added, “Oh, and call Valerie, too. She’s at work. Have her get in touch with my aunt and uncle.”
A single tear slid down my cheek. “Okay, I will.”
Drew gave me a sad smile as they drove off.
Chapter 11
I dragged myself back to the B&B, alternating between feeling ill and feeling helpless. In the kitchen, Delilah and Papa Sal were hard at work on the breakfast dishes. I threw myself onto one of the chairs and thunked my head down on the table.
Finally, Papa Sal said, “Well, are you going to tell us what’s going on with you or not? You ran out of here like a woman possessed.”
Leaving my head on the table, I groaned. “I’m sorry, Papa Sal. I’m sorry, D. This thing with Jason Green has gotten bigger than I realized. Drew is on his way to jail for Jason’s murder. The police have evidence on him. I don’t…I can’t…” What if they came and got me next? Tears started running from my eyes.
Delilah came over and rubbed my back. “Don’t cry, sissy. For all we know, this could all be a big misunderstanding.” Something in her voice made it sound like she didn’t quite believe what she was saying. She sighed. “It’s not worth you worrying about it. He either did it or he didn’t, and the evidence will prove it.”
I sat up straight. “He didn’t do it, Delilah. You know Drew. How can you even think he’d be capable of murder?”
She shrugged. “Well…”
My jaw dropped. “You think he did it!”
“I didn’t say that. But he has been arrested, you know.”
“You’ve never liked Drew. What is your problem?”
“Quit being his friend and open your eyes. Look at the facts, Quinn.”
“What facts? He didn’t kill Jason!”
Papa Sal said, “Girls, it’s been a rough couple of days for all of us. Let’s not take it out on one another, eh?”
Delilah frowned. “Sis, I’m sorry. I just…It’s in the police’s hands now. There’s nothing you can do. Use your energy to make peace with the situation.”
“You’re wrong. There is something I can do. Drew asked me to get him a lawyer.”
“How about that shyster cousin of your mother’s? Deacon…what’s-his-name.”
I brightened. In my agitated state, I’d forgotten a distant relative of ours
, Deacon Palmer, was an attorney. Although I didn’t trust him farther than I could throw him, if I needed a sleazebag to get me out of trouble with the law, he’d be the one I’d choose.
Almost forgetting, I added to myself, “Oh, and I need to call Valerie at her shop…”
Delilah said, “Whoa. Valerie—Jason’s wife—is working today? Her husband isn’t even cold yet! She should be catatonic with grief right now, not working.”
I stared at her. “Ooh, you’re right.”
That seemed like suspicious behavior to me. And whether Drew wanted Valerie on our list or not, I was making an executive decision to put her at the top. He’d said her “solid” alibi was that she was “out with some friends.” I didn’t know if I bought that. If I were in her shoes and planning to kill my jerk of a husband, I could come up with plenty of friends who would swear up and down that I was out with them during the time of death.
I grabbed the phone book and headed up the stairs to my room. First, I called and retained the services of Deacon Palmer, Esquire, who unfortunately had an appointment in court this morning and couldn’t make it to the police station to meet with Drew until this afternoon. He was cheap for a lawyer, so I took what I could get. Then I called Valerie’s spice shop, my stomach churning over having to tell her that her brother-in-law had been arrested for the murder of her husband.
She answered, her voice sounding annoyed like usual. “City Market Spice Shop.”
“Um…Valerie?”
“Yes.”
“It’s…Quinn Bellandini.”
There was only silence on the other end.
Mustering my courage, I went on. “I’m sorry to bother you this morning, and I’m so sorry about Jason—”
She cut me off. “Yeah, yeah. Why are you calling?” Not a lot of grieving going on at the City Market Spice Shop this morning, evidently. Delilah was right, and so was I—Valerie’s behavior was unusual and suspicious.
“Drew asked me to call you. He’s, uh…he’s been arrested, and he’d like you to get in touch with his aunt and uncle.”
“What?” she exploded. “When?”
“Only a few minutes ago. The police—”
My phone beeped, and when I looked at the screen, it said call ended. She’d hung up on me, and without so much as a “thank you” or even a “kiss my grits.”
* * *
—
After changing clothes, I got on my aquamarine Vespa and headed toward the police station. I couldn’t just leave Drew hanging until Deacon finally showed up later this afternoon, not knowing whether or not he had representation. Plus, I really needed to find out why he’d gotten arrested—to know whether or not I should be worrying about whether I was going to be picked up as well. When I got there, I marched up to the front desk and asked to see Detective King, hoping our relationship would at least give me the chance to wrangle a meeting with an inmate. In this town, it never hurt to play the good ol’ boy card, even if you were a girl.
Rufus came out to the lobby, and when he saw me, his expression registered surprise. “Quinn. How are you this morning? I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again so soon.”
I smiled. “I’m hanging in there. But I’m concerned about Drew Green’s arrest. Rufus, I know Drew. He could never have done such a thing.”
Rufus’s shoulders slumped. “I knew his arrest would upset you, and I’m truly sorry about that. But I have to follow the evidence where it leads—even if it leads somewhere that isn’t pleasant.”
I knew Rufus wouldn’t have arrested Drew on a whim, although I wouldn’t have put it past his surly partner, Detective Flynn. What really bothered me was that there was evidence pointing to Drew being the killer. There had to be some explanation for it.
“I understand that. Would it be possible for me to speak with Drew? I’ve got a lawyer for him, and I wanted to let him know that…and to see how he’s doing.”
He grimaced. “I feel as though I should caution you against that, Quinn. You’re mixed up in this pretty deep, and you could cast some doubt on your own innocence by having your name on Drew’s visitor log.”
My jaw dropped open. “Are you saying you won’t let me in to see my friend?”
With exaggerated patience, Rufus replied, “No, I’m telling you that a visit isn’t in your best interest. It could be seen as conspiring with the suspect, and you’re on thin enough ice around here as it is.”
I frowned. I needed to talk to Drew. If things had progressed this far, our investigation was critical now, and we barely had come up with a plan of action. “Thank you for your opinion, Rufus, but right now Drew needs a friend a lot more than I need a squeaky clean reputation.”
“I figured you’d say that.” He turned back toward the door. “He’s popular this morning. If you don’t mind waiting, I’ll let you see him. There’s already someone meeting with him at the moment.”
“Who?”
His hand on the doorknob, he shrugged. “I suppose it’ll be no secret when you pass each other in the hallway. Valerie Green.”
“Oh,” I breathed. She must have run over the second we got off the phone if she’d beat me here. I wondered if she’d come to rail against Drew or to support him. “Thank you, Rufus, for letting me see him.”
Rufus smiled at me. “I’m sure he could use a friend right now. But I do want you to be careful around him, and I don’t want you to make your visits here a habit.” With a wave, he disappeared back through the door.
I’d been sitting in the lobby for fifteen minutes when the door Rufus had gone through burst open. A visibly upset Valerie Green stomped into the lobby, took one look at me, snarled, and slammed the front door open, hurrying outside and down the sidewalk. Judging by her demeanor, I was guessing she hadn’t come here to support her brother-in-law. A few moments later, the receptionist informed me that I could go back and speak with Drew.
Blowing out a nervous breath, I entered the inner sanctum of the police station. I’d had way more new and frightening experiences than I would have liked in the past few days. I’d never even seen the inside of a police station before, much less come to visit an actual prisoner. I admonished myself for even thinking of Drew that way. He was still the same Drew he’d always been. He was simply in a bad situation at the moment.
A uniformed officer escorted me to a small room and opened the door for me. Drew sat inside, shackled to a metal table with handcuffs. A lump formed in my throat at the sight of him. His entire face was different—drawn and frightened. But when he saw me, he broke into a smile.
The officer muttered, “You have ten minutes,” and shut the door behind him.
I sat down quickly. “Drew, I’m so sorry you’re in here. I was so worried—”
Drew shook his head. “I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m okay for now. Were you able to find me a lawyer?”
“I did. Deacon Palmer, a distant relative of mine. I came down here to tell you that he’s in court this morning, so he won’t be able to come here to meet with you until this afternoon.”
Anxiety showed in Drew’s face. “He’s cheap, right? I hate to waste money on this, considering I’m innocent.”
I nodded. “You get the family discount. He’ll be cheap, but fierce. Quite a snake, actually.”
“I may need one to get out of this,” he muttered under his breath. Quickly pasting back on a smile, he said, “Quinn, thanks for standing up for me to the police and getting me a lawyer. Your friendship means more than you know.”
“You’re welcome.” I tried to keep my voice from shaking as I asked, “What are you up against, exactly? What evidence do they have?”
Drew blew out a disgusted breath and slumped in his chair. “It’s circumstantial, but still pretty bad. I wish we hadn’t got in that stupid argument. I think that’s the thing that’s going to haunt me the most.”
/>
I sighed. “All brothers fight, right? How can that be enough evidence to arrest you for his murder?”
“When my chef’s knife was found in his back. I’m sure you saw it.”
I breathed, “That was your knife?”
His face darkened. “Don’t look at me like that, Quinn.”
“I’m not. I just…It didn’t occur to me that the knife belonged to anyone specifically. I guess I assumed it belonged to the restaurant.” This information hadn’t made me change my opinion of Drew; it had only thrown me for a loop. I guessed the look on my face didn’t convey that.
“We all use our own personal knives. It’s a chef thing. Anyway, the last time I saw that knife was when I was prepping the next day’s vegetables after closing. Jason stormed into the kitchen and started running his mouth again, so I set the knife down on the counter and went outside to get some air. That’s when he came after me and started beating the living daylights out of me. Once I managed to stun him, I took off. Going back in and cleaning up was the furthest thing from my mind.”
I mulled this over for a moment. “Okay, so the police might have excused a public fight with your brother followed by a pretty major fistfight. But now that they’ve determined that your chef’s knife ended up in his back, how in the world are you going to convince them you’re innocent?” And how was I going to prove I had no part in it?
He sighed. “I can’t do much from here.”
My heart sank as the realization hit me. “So it’s up to me now.”
Hanging his head, Drew said, “I’m sorry, Quinn. I know I promised you I’d do the dangerous stuff and be there for you, but I can’t now. I hate the thought of you going it alone, but—”
I mustered some courage and cut him off. “But nothing. Now that you’ve been arrested, this investigation is more important than ever.” Frowning, I added, “And according to what Rufus just said to me, I don’t think I’m out of the woods yet, either.”
“What did he say?”
“That coming here to conspire with the suspect could ‘cast some doubt’ on my innocence.”
Southern Discomfort Page 8
