“Dad!” Tucker exclaimed. “What are you doing? Why are you yelling at Quinn?”
Jed Heyward pointed a shaking finger at me. “Because she accused me of murder. She’s not welcome in any home of mine.”
“Dad, be reasonable. When did this happen?” Tucker turned to me, a look of bafflement on his face. “Quinn?”
I closed my eyes. “Your dad is right. I did insinuate that he might have profited from Jason Green’s death.”
“You did a lot more than insinuate,” Dr. Heyward grumbled.
“Not now, Dad,” Tucker said, his voice dangerously terse.
I continued, “I’m sorry, Tucker…and Dr. and Mrs. Heyward. I overstepped, and I shouldn’t have. I just…I was desperate to find out the truth.”
Tucker became very still. “Am I to believe that my parents were on that list of yours?”
“They were, but I did mark their names off, if that counts for anything.”
“Why were they even on there in the first place?”
“Because they want to buy the building Green is housed in. And also because of your dad’s partnership deal with Jason.”
“And you didn’t feel like you could come to me with that? We had a pretty serious discussion last night, Quinn. You left out the part where you thought my parents were murderers, investigated them, and put them on that list with lowlifes and bookies.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I was…” I sighed. “I was hoping you wouldn’t find out.” Unable to cope with any more drama, I put my head in my hands.
An eerie silence fell over our section of the beach, except for the occasional crashing wave.
Finally, Tucker said, “I think we should call it a day.”
My heart nearly ripped in two. Was there no end to the misery this murder had caused?
* * *
—
Not one word was spoken on the ride back to town. Tucker parked his truck, got out, and went straight to his place without so much as a wave goodbye. I dragged myself back the B&B and headed for my room. Of course Delilah found me right away.
“You’re back early…” She checked her watch and hopped onto my bed next to me. “This doesn’t seem like enough time to drive to Tybee, jet-ski, have a romantic lunch on the beach, and come home.” Then she took a look at my distraught face. “Oh, no. What happened? Did you ice him out again?”
The tears I’d been holding in on the drive home now came pouring down my cheeks. “No! Everything was so perfect. We talked, we went jet-skiing, we had about half of a nice picnic on the beach…and then his parents showed up.”
“What? Why did he invite his parents along on your date? I didn’t think he was that much of a mama’s boy.”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t planned. We were at their newest purchase, a Tybee Island beach cottage, where Tucker is going to do some refurbishments. I guess they came out to do something at the property and happened to find us there.”
“Did his dad let you have it?” she asked, cringing.
“Oh, yeah. He made it crystal clear that I’m no longer welcome to step foot on any Heyward property…or get near his son.”
“What did Tucker think of all this?”
“What do you expect? I investigated his parents for their possible involvement in a murder, and then I not-so-cleverly left that little nugget out of our big soul-bearing conversation last night. He didn’t take kindly to that.”
“Hmm…someone told you it was a ridiculous idea to investigate the Heywards…I wonder who that was…” she said, feigning bewilderment.
“I think we had this conversation already.”
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” She let out a sigh. “Well, I guess that means you and Tucker are over before you began. I hate it, but maybe it wasn’t destined to be. You guys have had some major hiccups, but this may not be one you can get over.”
“I think you may be right. Again.”
“Not for nothing, but I still say you should have worn the black bikini. Tucker would have taken your side, no questions.”
“Delilah?”
“Yes?”
“Get out.”
* * *
—
All I wanted was for this week to be over, but Saturday afternoon crawled by at a snail’s pace. I went through the motions of my daily chores like a zombie, so much so that I was getting odd looks from some of our guests who would pass me in the hallways. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I went to the back porch, hoping that playing some music would soothe my soul.
I tinkered around with my guitar for a while, but couldn’t find the concentration to make it through an entire song. A clattering noise from across the street got my attention, and I went over to the side of the porch for a closer look.
Tucker was packing boxes and suitcases in his truck. Like he was moving. I raced through the B&B, out the front door, and across the street.
When I got to him, I blurted out, “Are you leaving?”
He regarded me for a moment before answering. “Yes.” He went back to hauling boxes from his porch to the bed of his truck.
I felt a stab in my heart, along with something that was near panic. “What, just like that? Where are you going? You’re not going back to Boston, are you?”
“No, I’m moving to the beach house on Tybee.”
“But…but that’s so far. I’ll never see you.”
Giving me a hard stare, he replied, “Probably not.”
“Tucker, I’m sorry. I messed up. Can you not give me another chance?”
“You mean like you did when I asked you to trust me? Quinn, I think you and I are out of second chances.”
I sighed, holding back tears for way too many times today. “Okay, if that’s how you feel, I’ll let you get back to packing.”
I hurried back to the B&B before he could see my tears fall.
* * *
—
A knock on my door woke me from a fitful nap. It was nearly dark. I guessed I’d been asleep for a while.
I wiped the sleep from my eyes and croaked, “Come in.”
Delilah came in, a sympathetic smile on her face. “I heard about Tucker leaving. That sucks.” She sat down next to me and pulled me into a hug.
“I know. And if you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Actually, I didn’t come to talk about him. In all the excitement about your date, I totally forgot to ask you how it went at the police station.”
“Oh, well, that went better than expected. Mean old Detective Flynn complimented us on our investigation. He called it ‘decent.’ ”
“Decent, huh? I was hoping for a little better than decent.”
“From him, it was like giving us a medal for investigating. And not a participation medal, either.”
She chuckled. “I’ll take your word for it. How did it go with Drew?”
“Ugh. About as well as it went with Tucker.”
“You’re on a roll today.”
“It seems so.”
“As it happens, I’m on a roll, too. Guess who’s got two thumbs and knows where to find Ed Bristow on a Saturday night?” She pointed at herself proudly with both thumbs.
I wrinkled my nose. “Ed Bristow? What do we need with him?”
“To finish up our investigation, ding dong.”
“I gave the police his name. I’m sure they can take care of talking to him.”
“Right. Because he’s going to tell the police all his deepest, darkest secrets. Come on, Quinn. We need to finish what we started.”
“I don’t know. I’m kind of over the whole investigating thing. I told Drew he was on his own.”
She stared at me. “You did what?”
“This morning when I talked to Drew, I told him if he couldn’t be st
raight with me, then I couldn’t help him.”
“You’re leaving a possibly innocent man in jail because you’re mad that he lied to you?”
Frowning, I said, “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Um, truth. Grandmama Hattie would tan your hide for giving up on a friend. And let’s not forget that your investigation was what ultimately caused the demise of your budding relationship with Tucker. Don’t make losing him all for nothing because you refuse to finish what you started.”
I sighed. Delilah was right. I had told Drew that I’d help him—promised him, in fact—and that should have no bearing on how he acted. And the whole thing with Tucker and his parents was my own stupid fault for focusing on the investigation so hard that I lost sight of everything else. It would be a shame if that had ended up happening for no reason.
But I was exhausted, and the last thing I wanted to do tonight was be reminded of how terrible an investigator I was. I tried one more time to get out of it. “I thought you believed Drew was guilty.”
“Well…I might have gotten another nudge in the right direction from Uncle Frank.”
I flopped back onto my bed. “Oh, here we go again.”
“Listen to what I have to say before doing your scoffer thing. Uncle Frank said that the bookie holds the key to everything.”
“Sure he does.”
Delilah stood and pulled me off the bed. “Either way, you need to get out of the house and quit moping. We’re going to go find us a bookie.”
Chapter 28
“D, how far south are we going? I think we’re getting into some less-than-safe neighborhoods, especially for two women alone at night.”
She waved away my concern. “We’re grown women who can handle ourselves. And besides, where did you expect to find a bookie? Some swanky place downtown?”
Delilah pulled into the parking lot of a ramshackle building that said red’s bar across the roof. It had at one time said FRED’S BAR, but the F had fallen down and gotten stuck in the roof’s gutter. We got out of the truck and headed for the front door. My shoes stuck to the floor the instant we set foot inside the place. It was loud, smoky, and packed. This should be fun.
Delilah said, “Ed Bristow always wears a bowler hat. That’s how you know who he is.”
“How did you find all this out?”
She winked at me. “I have all kinds of connections.”
I learned new things about my sister every day.
We weaved through the crowd, bumping into several gruff people, several drunk people, and a couple of old men who wanted nothing more than to buy us a drink. We politely declined and kept on our search. Finally I spotted a tall man in a bowler hat sitting at the end of the bar. I grabbed Delilah’s arm and steered her that way.
She marched right up to him and said, “Ed Bristow?”
“Yeah, who wants to know?” he grunted. He had the weathered face of a cowboy. The bowler hat wasn’t quite right on him.
“We’d like to make a bet.”
Ed smirked at us. “You two sweet things want to make a bet, huh? On what?”
“The big boxing match next weekend,” she replied, unflinching.
He shrugged. “Okay. How much?”
She reached into her pocket and produced a rumpled bill. “Twenty?”
After staring at us for a moment, he roared with laughter. “Darlin’, twenty’s not worth old Ed’s time.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. We don’t actually want to make a bet. We want some information from you.”
“Information, huh? You still going to give me that twenty?”
Delilah held the bill just out of his reach. “If we get our information, yes.”
“What do you want to know? I can tell you’re not cops, so I don’t mind having a friendly conversation with you.”
I cleared my throat. “We’d like to know if Jason Green owed you any money.”
Ed shook his head. “Nah, that piece of crap was all settled up before he kicked it. Good thing, too. I don’t like it when I can’t collect my numbers.”
Well, there went Ed’s motive out the window. With no unpaid debt to settle, he had no reason to kill Jason. So by default, we were now down to Valerie and Drew. I felt sick at the thought.
“You okay there?” Ed asked me. “You look a might pale.”
I glanced at Delilah, who from the defeated look in her eye had drawn the same conclusion that I had. “I’m fine, thank you. So…if you don’t mind me asking, how much did he owe you lately? I know he was trying to raise money to help save his restaurant, but I also heard he was a horrible gambler. It seems counterproductive.”
Ed chuckled. “Yep, he always bet on the wrong horse, so to speak. Had he won instead of lost over the course of the last, say, month or so, he probably would have walked away with twenty grand. As it was, he ended up losing around five. Some pretty little blond thing came the end of last week and wiped his debt clean.”
Delilah elbowed me, hissing, “Sasha!”
Sasha had wiped out Jason’s debt of five thousand dollars? Well, I supposed if a couple of her overpriced paintings sold, she might have had enough cash to scrape together to help him out. But she’d told me she knew nothing about the bookie.
I said to Ed, “This blonde…you met with her personally?”
“Yeah. She sat right there on that barstool.” He gestured to the stool next to him.
“Can you describe her?”
“She was drop-dead gorgeous. Like a model. Only she didn’t dress like one. She must have had a fight with a paintbrush, from the look of her.”
That was Sasha, all right.
“Did she tell you why she came to pay off Jason’s debt instead of giving him the money to bring to you?” Delilah asked.
That was a good question. Drew had said he’d simply given his five hundred dollar “loan” to Jason, and Jason took care of getting it to the bookie.
Ed laughed. “Oh, she was a pistol. She said she wanted to ‘own’ Jason.”
Delilah and I shared a glance.
“Own him? Did she say why?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nope. I figured it was some kind of dominance thing and was scared to ask.”
My sister and I put our heads together.
Keeping my voice low, I said, “When I talked to Sasha at Green, she told me she knew nothing about the bookie. Why would she lie about it?”
“She’s hiding something. She was acting strangely last night at the gallery event.”
“Right. At first I thought she was grieving—which she could have been—but now that I think back…maybe it was something else.”
“I guess—”
“Ahem, ladies?” Ed said. “I hate to break up your powwow, but about that twenty you owe me for my information…”
Delilah placed the bill in his hand. “Money well spent. Thanks, Ed.”
He grinned at us and tipped his hat. “My pleasure.”
* * *
—
On the ride back home, Delilah asked, “What do you make of the fact that Sasha lied to you about knowing Ed?”
I shrugged. “I think it’s fishy. But I’m not seeing Sasha as a cold-blooded killer. She’s a college student, for crying out loud. She’s too young and not jaded enough to have murderous thoughts, right?”
“I see your point. Or is she immature enough to get her heart broken and want the ultimate revenge? You remember how I was when I was her age and got dumped. I wanted to kill everyone.”
“Sure, but you didn’t. And who says Jason broke her heart?”
“Who says he didn’t? You don’t know whether they were still seeing each other right up to the time he died. For all we know, he could have broken up with her Monday afternoon and paid for it Monday night.”
I s
hook my head. “I’m still not seeing it. She doesn’t seem like a sociopath.”
“I agree. But Uncle Frank did say that the bookie was the key to everything.”
“Maybe he was wrong.” Or not real.
“Or he was pointing us further in the right direction. If it’s not Ed, then it’s Valerie…or Drew.”
Rubbing my throbbing temples, I said, “I know. I had that exact same thought only a few minutes ago.”
“Well, what now?”
“It’s getting a bit late for us to do much more tonight. I say we talk to Sasha and call it a wrap.”
“Works for me,” she said, pulling her truck to a stop by the B&B.
Tucker’s truck was still across the street, holding another load ready to be moved. He was really serious. I blew out a slow breath.
Following my forlorn gaze, Delilah put her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry, sissy. I hate that everything is crashing down on you at once. If there was something I could do, you know I would.”
I nodded. “I know.”
“I want to say goodbye to Tucker. Do you mind if I pop over there for a minute?”
“Take your time. I’ll run over to Oeuvre and see if I can talk to Sasha. Then maybe we can share a tub of ice cream or something.”
She smiled. “That sounds great. Are you sure you want to go it alone with Sasha?”
“I’m fine with it. I don’t think she’s guilty of anything besides being in love with a married man and not knowing how to cope with it. I just want to know about her deal with paying off Ed Bristow.”
“Okay, but if you need me, call me.”
“I will.”
We went our separate ways, her to Tucker’s place and me across Pulaski Square and down Charlton. I had an eerie chill sweep through me as I walked, remembering all the times I’d walked this path to call on Drew. Whether he stayed in jail or not, I didn’t think I’d be paying him any more visits.
Avery was just about to close and lock the doors of Oeuvre when I arrived. Tonight she wasn’t dressed in her finery—she was wearing a paint-splattered sweatshirt and jeans. She seemed much younger without all the glitz and glam.
Southern Discomfort Page 22
