I said, “Hello,” but she continued tapping at her phone and only gave me a head nod.
“Thanks for meeting us, Meegan,” Pete said.
Finally finishing whatever she’d been doing, Meegan laid her phone screen-down on the table, a sure sign we had her full attention—at least until her next call or text came in. “No problem, considering what you’re doing for me. So you want to know about Brock’s beef with Leonidas Luxury Events? Why?”
Pete began, “We’re looking into—”
I kicked him in the shin under the table. Until a PI knows whether or not someone is trustworthy, it’s not a good idea to spill the beans on an investigation.
Shooting me a look, he cleared his throat and continued, “Let me back up. Juliet is a private investigator working on a case involving a Leonidas employee, and we thought after having worked with them on this party, you might have some insight that could help.”
She shrugged. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
I opened the file I’d brought with me and got out a clean sheet of paper. “Who did you work with specifically on this event? Who was your contact?”
Meegan turned her phone over and fixed her attention on it again. I was about to roll my eyes at Pete when she turned the screen toward us. “Here you go. Josie Prescott. You can copy down her info if you like.”
Pete nudged me under the table, and my stomach got queasy. So Josie had been the one responsible for the failed party that a major recording star was suing Leonidas over. That kind of bad publicity could wreak a lot of damage on a business, especially in this town. If that didn’t scream motive for “terminating” Josie, I didn’t know what did.
“Oh, okay,” I breathed, quickly copying down Josie’s information and not bothering to clue Meegan in on the fact that there was no way in hell I could contact her. “Um…what happened that made the party so terrible?”
She shook her head. “It was the first event this Josie girl had planned completely on her own, and she screwed up a few things. Not enough food, not enough booze. The invitations went out late, so turnout was kind of pathetic. She didn’t hire any party babes, so everyone there was old and ugly. That kind of thing. Oh, and no recreational-use party favors.” She tapped the side of her nose, making me assume she meant drugs.
“Party babes?” Pete asked interestedly.
Of course that was his takeaway from the conversation.
“Yeah, you know—pretty girls in skimpy dresses and hot guys in tight shirts paid to be fluffers for the bigwigs during the party.”
Pete nudged me again under the table. “Like escorts?” He just couldn’t let our last undercover mission go.
Meegan nodded. “Right. The party babes are there to ensure everyone has a good time and even losers have someone to talk to.”
Wow. I’d never been to a party like that. Honestly, it sounded awful.
I asked, “Did you work with any other Leonidas employees?”
“No, she was my only contact there. She brought a ton of staff with her, though.”
“Remember any names?”
Meegan thought for a moment. “Not really, except Xander Leonidas graced us with his presence, if only for a few minutes. That was a pretty big deal, given his reputation.”
“What’s his reputation?” Pete asked.
“Rich playboy with a permanent invite to any party in town. He’s why you go with Leonidas Luxury Events. It’s not all because of their service. He shows up and mingles, your party is a hit.”
“Only this one wasn’t a hit,” I said.
“Well, this one started out in the crapper. So when he got to the party, late as usual, it was already in its death throes. He got in a screaming match with one of his employees and stormed out. Not exactly the Xander Leonidas seal of approval we were looking for. That was pretty much the end of it…and my working relationship with Brock.” Her phone beeped, and she picked it up, frowning. “I have to go. Anything else you need from me?”
“No, this is great. Thanks so much, Meegan.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Pete said, hopping up to see her out.
“K, bye,” she said, nearly out the door before Pete could even catch up with her.
Turning back to me, Pete spread his hands open. “Well? Did I do good or what?”
I smiled. “Yes, you did. Things are starting to line up in this case.”
—
Pete and I continued working, again going back and forth between the counter and the kitchen as needed since Shane was still out. While we were closing, Stafford showed up. He’d called earlier and asked if he could see me, but I’d had to put him off until I got off work. I didn’t want to take any more time for myself since I’d only worked for five hours tonight.
“Hey,” he said, leaning down to give me a kiss.
“Hi. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” I replied, leaning in to him. It was only yesterday evening when I’d seen him last, but since my night had seemed to go on endlessly, it felt like it had been days.
“Want to see a lot of me tonight?” he asked.
I cocked my head to the side. “Did you mean for that to sound dirty, John?”
His eyes widened, and he blushed a deep red. “No, absolutely not. Well, sort of…I—” Flustered, he sighed. “I’m trying to ask if you’d want to come to my place and…maybe stay for a while.”
I couldn’t contain my smile, but I did manage to swallow the urge to chuckle. “Yes, I would love to see a lot of you tonight. And I did mean that to sound dirty.”
Chapter 12
Stafford drove me to my apartment to get an overnight bag, and while I was there, I also grabbed the gift I’d bought for him with my Kixmiller bonus. His watch had stopped ticking last week, and with him working so much he hadn’t had the time or energy to search for a replacement. I had intended to share my wealth and take him out to an expensive dinner earlier in the week, but instead I’d dragged him to bed. I still wanted to do something special for him, so I splurged on something I knew he’d use.
As I was walking down my stairs, I had the odd feeling that I was being watched. I lived in a crappy apartment complex with a bunch of college kids, and normally the place was one big hangout with people constantly in your business. Not so much in the summer. Most of the little darlings went home, so it was kind of deserted. Going into PI mode, I scanned the area like Maya had trained me to do. My eyes came to rest on a familiar-looking vehicle over by the dumpster. The dumpster blocked most of the car from view, but I could tell that was where my creepy vibe was coming from, as well as who it was coming from: Ryder. The last time we spoke, he had all but admitted to following me around, but gave me no indication why. Aside from the fact that he was not right in the head.
Without breaking my stride, I kept my eye on Ryder’s vehicle until I got into Stafford’s truck.
Stafford pinched my chin. “That’s an awfully serious face you’re making. Everything okay?”
I hesitated. If Stafford knew Ryder was watching us, he would march over there and give Ryder a piece of his mind, which would start a fight that would probably not end in his favor. Stafford was bigger and more imposing than Ryder, but didn’t have the verbal or physical fighting skills and the alpha-male, winner-take-all instinct Ryder did. Stafford could not know that Ryder was here, for his own good.
I smiled. “Yeah, sorry. I was thinking about how dead it is around here without my hundreds of apartment mates.”
“You complain about those poor kids when they’re here, then you miss them when they’re gone. Can’t live with them, and can’t live without them, huh?”
I laughed. “Something like that.” I handed him a gift bag. “This is for you.”
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, grinning. He took the box out of the bag and opened it. His jaw dropped when he saw the watch. “Juliet, wow. This is fantastic, but…” He looked over at me. “You didn’t need to do this.”
Shrugging, I replied, “You needed a watch, and
I got a bonus, so it was perfect—”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence, because he pulled me to him and kissed me deeply.
After we pulled apart, I said, “Not that I mind you showing me your appreciation, but I wasn’t trying to buy your affection.”
One hand still cradling my face, he ran his thumb across my cheek. “You know you’ve always had that.”
—
I woke up the next morning in Stafford’s bed, alone. When I went to his living room to find him, he wasn’t there, either. Puzzled, I peeked out the front window of his apartment into the early morning light, and his truck was gone. Strange. Even stranger, Ryder’s vehicle was there, and I could see him sitting in it. What was his problem? Creeped out, but overwhelmingly pissed, I opened the door and stalked outside. Judging from the surprise on his face, Ryder realized I’d made him. He screeched back from the parking space, but I was able to run around and jump in front of his car, blocking his way.
Smacking his hood with both palms for emphasis, I demanded, “What the hell are you doing following me? You were at my apartment last night, and now you’re here.”
He didn’t reply, only clenched his jaw.
I gasped. “Have you been here all night?” When he didn’t reply again, I went around to the driver’s side and stared at him through his open window. “Answer me, damn you.”
“You know you’re not wearing any pants, right?” was all he said.
I tugged at the hem of Stafford’s T-shirt. To be fair, I was plenty covered up—the thing was like a dress on me. But technically, no, I was not in fact wearing pants.
“Tell me why you’re being a creeper!” I cried, now both angry and mortified.
“No.”
Before I could say anything else, he sped from the parking lot and down the street.
“Argh!” I screamed, unable to better voice my overwhelming frustration.
I stomped back to Stafford’s apartment and slammed the door behind me. How dare Ryder stalk me? I’d made it abundantly clear that I never wanted to lay eyes on him again, yet he kept coming back around, time after time. This was something I could get a restraining order for, only trying to get a restraining order put on a cop wouldn’t exactly be the easiest thing to do—especially if I, as a PI, wanted to keep on good terms with the department. Plus, it would cause considerable grief for Stafford at work, not that he didn’t already catch crap for being the boyfriend of the girl who kept blundering into murder investigations. As angry as I was about it, though, I didn’t get the feeling Ryder was doing any of this to hurt or frighten me. There was something else going on, and I needed to figure out what it was.
As I was heading for the shower, I heard the door open and Stafford call, “Juliet, I got donuts.” I went to the kitchen to meet him.
“Good morning,” he said, smiling and leaning down to give me a kiss. “I got up and realized I had nothing to feed you, so I had to make a run. Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up.”
I snatched a chocolate-covered Bavarian cream from the box. “It’s okay. Donuts make up for pretty much anything.”
“What’s your schedule like this weekend?”
Stuffing a huge bite of donut in my mouth to buy some time, I hesitated before answering. I hadn’t told Stafford about investigating Josie’s murder, and I couldn’t tell him any specifics about our Wonder-Gen case. He was pretty good about not prying into my business, and I made sure to do the same with his police cases. We spoke in generalities and never used names.
“This afternoon I’m attending the funeral for Shane’s fiancée, then tomorrow I’m working on a case pretty much all day. Sunday is looking good, though.”
“Not for me. I’m working tonight, off tomorrow, and working Sunday.”
I jutted out my lower lip. “Guess I’ll see you Monday, then.”
“I also work Monday.”
“It’s going to be days until we’re together again?”
Walking over to me, he took the half-eaten donut out of my hand and tossed it back into the box. In one swift movement, he had my shirt off and down at my feet. “If that’s the case, you’re going to have to be late to work today.”
—
The morning at Java Jive was like any other, keeping me busy enough that I didn’t have time to fret too much about Josie’s funeral later in the day. I hated funerals, which I guessed most people did. And ones for young people were some of the saddest imaginable. Needless to say, I wasn’t looking forward to the afternoon.
Pete came into the office, looking very handsome yet somber in a dark blue suit. “Hey, Jules. You ready?”
I’d already changed into a dress and had been steering clear of the front of the house, opting instead to work on putting together a food order in the safety of the office. “I guess,” I replied, getting up from the desk.
As we went out to get into his car, he said, “I’m wondering if we can glean anything from who shows up today from Josie’s work.”
“Maybe.”
He started up his car, and I watched him thoughtfully. Pete’s recent history of funerals included his dad’s a couple of years ago, one for a Java Jive cook that he’d known forever, and then Cecilia’s, which he didn’t even get to attend because he was charged with her murder at the time. With his overwhelming urge to help Shane get through losing Josie, this one wasn’t going to be much easier on him.
I laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sure the thought of going to a funeral isn’t sitting too well with you. But you know I’ll do anything to make it easier on you—taking your mind off things with some discreet sleuthing, day drinking, a feast of waffle tacos when we get back, whatever. Okay?”
His eyes misted up. “Thanks, Jules. Maybe leave out the day drinking, but we’ll definitely do the rest.”
“Speak for yourself. That’s what I was looking forward to the most.”
We didn’t talk much more on the way to the cemetery. When we went to give Shane our condolences before the service, Pete could only offer him a quick hug before he left the receiving line. He was still quiet as we found Shane’s fellow evening-shift Java Jive employees, Cole, Clay, and Sophie, and took seats next to them for the service. My heart hurt for him. I had to do something to try to pull him out of his funk.
Pete caught me staring at him, so I looked away, spotting a couple of people from Leonidas that I’d cyberstalked. Josie’s friend Hadley Vega was there, as was Rex Hudson from the photo in Hadley’s office. The big-breasted receptionist—Marissa, I thought—was sitting near them, chatting with another girl I sort of recognized. All in all, not a fantastic turnout from Josie’s workplace. The service was packed otherwise, though.
I nudged Pete. “There’s Hadley, Rex, your favorite receptionist, and one other employee from Leonidas. I don’t recognize anyone else.”
He peered around behind us. “The boss didn’t even deign to come? Kind of shitty, if you ask me.”
I put my arm around him and squeezed his shoulder. “Not every boss is like you.”
Pete gave me an “aw, shucks” grin, which I was happy to see, but it quickly faded when the pastor stepped up and started speaking. The pastor must have known Josie well, because he couldn’t get through what he had to say without choking up. Nearly everyone there was a complete emotional wreck, even those of us from Java Jive who weren’t close with Josie and had come only to support Shane.
About halfway through the graveside service, I noticed a flash out of the corner of my eye. When I looked over, I saw a shiny black sedan pull up and a drop-dead gorgeous man get out of the back. Not that I could have pried my eyes away if I’d wanted to, but I watched him as he approached and stood a few yards to the right of the rows of chairs. Now that I could see his face better, I realized he was Xander Leonidas. Interesting. And not to be flippant, but I guessed since he showed up, this meant Josie’s funeral was a “hit,” according to Meegan the publicist.
Another thing I realized was that if Pete and I wanted to keep o
ur covers intact for the expo tomorrow, we’d better not let Xander or any of the other Leonidas employees see us today. I turned away from Xander, fluffing my hair out to hide the sides of my face and scrabbling in my purse for my sunglasses. Even though it was a little cloudy, Pete was already wearing his, which I assumed was to cover his emotions rather than his retinas.
The funeral went on, and after Josie’s cousin stood by the coffin and sang a haunting a cappella version of “Amazing Grace,” there wasn’t a dry eye in the house.
The moment the service ended, I leaned over and whispered to Pete, “I wasn’t thinking about this earlier, but we’d better not let any of the Leonidas people see us. We don’t want them to think we know Shane or Josie too well if we want them to talk tomorrow. We probably should slink out of here ASAP.”
He nodded, and I worried that he was too overcome to speak. It killed me to see him like this. I grabbed his hand, and without another word, we hurried straight to his car. I managed to sneak a glance in Xander Leonidas’s direction, but he was gone, as was his fancy sedan. Could he only have been bothered to stay for a few minutes?
Pete and I drove back to Java Jive in a deafening silence. I honestly didn’t know whether to try to start a conversation with him or to leave him alone. I was at a total loss. Pete was never like this, except when his dad died, but I hadn’t been living in Nashville at the time so I didn’t get to see the daily fallout. I stayed with him for a couple of days after his dad’s funeral, but then I had to leave him to get back home to run my own café. When Cecilia died, he was mostly angry, and it generally manifested in mood swings with uncharacteristically rude outbursts or just flat-out crying. He’d never been silent and largely unreadable.
When we got to the parking lot, Pete didn’t turn off the engine. He just sat in his seat, still quiet.
“Are you not coming in?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I should get back to work.”
“But what about the waffle tacos and day drinking?”
“Do it without me.”
I sighed and leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me.”
Brew or Die Page 10
