Blake can’t contain himself even for a moment. “So, you were, how did he put it, ‘popular with the fellas’?” He doesn’t even try to hide his smile and wicked eyes.
“Shut up,” is all I can manage at this point.
Blake leans his head back and laughs, and laughs, and laughs, all the way to the car. “Whew!” he exclaims, still chuckling. “I haven’t laughed that hard in I don’t know how long. Thanks, Hart.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
As promised, Blake takes me someplace nice for dinner—a fantastic little Italian place at the edge of town. The dining room is beautiful, as always, candlelit and quiet. My heart skips a beat as Blake pulls my chair out for me. None of my previous dates have ever been so gentlemanly. Blake is definitely a different breed, but I hope he isn’t one of those clichéd guys who orders dinner for his date at a fancy restaurant. I’m way too independent for that crap.
We enjoy a fabulous meal (which he did not order for me) and discuss the events of tonight. Blake has spent the last fifteen minutes making a great case against Jed, but I still can’t quit thinking about Paul.
“I know your money’s on Jed, but I still have a strong feeling about Paul,” I blurt out.
“Paul,” Blake repeats, smiling.
“Yeah, Paul. Isn’t the person who finds the victim always a suspect?”
“That would make us both suspects,” Blake points out.
“Well, lucky for us the police think Hannah’s death was an accident,” I retort sarcastically.
“So what’s your beef with Jackson all of a sudden?”
“I don’t have a beef with him. It’s just what I’ve observed about him that makes me suspect him—you know, his lack of personality, the fact that he never talks to anyone at work, his creepy adoration for Audra and Hannah, and all the work he’s been missing lately. For me, all of that is too big a coincidence for Paul to be completely innocent here.”
“So you’re saying that Jackson strangled Audra because he was in love with her and she wasn’t interested. Then he sneaks into the fair and kills Hannah because he loves her, too, but can’t have her either?”
“It happens.”
He wrinkles his brow. “You actually think Jackson, ninety-pounds-soaking-wet Jackson, could strangle a grown woman to death?”
“If he put his mind to it.”
“Do you think after he killed one of his lady loves he felt some kind of rush and just had to do it again? It seems to me like he’s not accomplishing anything but narrowing down his chances.”
“Not if they had both been continually turning him down. Maybe he heard one more ‘no’ and just snapped.”
Blake shakes his head. “I’m not feeling it. What I am feeling, though, is some surveillance video. Come watch with me?”
I hesitate. It’s late, and I really should get some sleep tonight—I’m running only on caffeine and the occasional rush of adrenaline at this point.
“Come on, I’ll go crazy if I have to watch it by myself,” he pleads. “You know you want to see it. It’ll be fun—we can turn the sound down and interject our own witty dialogue, like a Kung-Fu movie.”
“I need sleep,” I protest.
“That’s what coffee’s for tomorrow. Hey—I’ll make you a deal. We’ll drive past Jackson’s house and see if he’s doing anything creepy if you promise to come over and watch the video.”
Ooh, tempting. As I’m still mulling this over, Blake says finally, “Bottom line, I’m driving you, so you really don’t have a choice in the matter.”
***
Blake pulls slowly past Paul’s house, which butts up against the back side of the cemetery. The only light coming from inside seems to be near the rear of the house, and nothing outside seems out of the ordinary.
As he starts to drive away, I whine, “But we didn’t see anything! You said we’d see if he was doing something creepy.”
“Relax, Hart, I’m just trying to find a way to get closer.” He gestures toward the dark cemetery. “Is that a road back there?”
“Yeah. Go around the block and drive through the cemetery. We should be able to see into the back of his house from one of the paths.”
“Perfect. It’s cool to have my very own interactive map of Liberty,” Blake says, patting me on the knee.
This is so surreal. I still can’t believe that in only a week I’ve gone from spilling my coffee everywhere like a geek just because Blake talked to me, to attacking him at the golf course, to spending the entire day with him, including a romantic dinner. Oh, yeah, and don’t forget kissing him. Twice.
He kills the headlights as he maneuvers through the winding paths of the cemetery. He parks well out of sight of Paul’s house, and we get out and walk the rest of the way. We’re in the old part of the cemetery, with some of the gravestones dating back into the 1800’s. This part of the cemetery is particularly eerie, with its large, shadowy trees and ornate headstones bearing disturbing statues of angels and cherubs.
A cold shiver runs through me, and Blake looks over at me. “You scared, Hart?” I can’t see his face clearly in the dark, but I’m positive he’s laughing at me from the tone of his voice.
“No,” I try to say nonchalantly, but my quivering voice gives me away.
“Right,” Blake says, reaching for my hand.
Ooh! He’s protecting me. I like to be an independent woman and all, but I’ll admit I kind of like it when a guy comes to my rescue. The chill I had felt before is melting, and now I’m all warm and fuzzy inside. Truly pathetic, I realize, but I’m completely held hostage by his charms. Surely at some point I’ll be able to think clearly in his vicinity.
We hide in the trees lining the division between the cemetery and Paul’s backyard. Through the branches we can see into Paul’s back window. There’s Paul, sitting on a barstool—playing the guitar and…singing? I’ll have to say I’m surprised. For some reason, I had Paul pegged as more of a gamer—I had imagined him spending all of his free time playing World of Warcraft and making elaborate costumes to wear to comic book conventions. I have a whole new respect for the man.
The room Paul is in is covered in abstract art depicting guitars and pianos, and he has a keyboard set up in one corner next to an electric guitar leaning against a large amp. He must be multi-talented. I’m astonished, yet also impressed.
Blake pulls a small device out of his pocket that looks like a Bluetooth headset and hooks it around his ear.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Listening. Shh,” Blake replies.
“To what?”
“Jackson.”
“What is that thing?” I ask, confused. I thought he was getting ready to make a phone call.
“It’s a personal sound amplifier.” Blake and his gadgets. “Here. Try it.”
He puts the earpiece on my ear, and I can hear all kinds of noise—the trees rustling in the wind, crickets chirping, and as clearly as if I were in the same room, Paul singing and playing the guitar. And, he’s actually good! Gone is his normal nasal, sniveling voice, which has been replaced by a slightly scratchy, throaty and soulful singing voice. I don’t immediately recognize the song he’s singing, and I have to strain a little to make out the words:
You were the brightest star in my sky,
You were my sun shining on high.
I only wish that I had told you,
Oh, how I wanted to…
But I didn’t let my love show.
Now you know…
Now you know…
Blake’s hushed voice beside me sounds like he’s screaming when he whispers, “Have you heard enough?” Startled, I rip the amplifier out of my ear and look up at him. “Are you…crying?” he asks incredulously.
I reach up and wipe my eyes. What do you know—I am! Paul’s song was so beautiful. I guess I got caught up in it. “No,” I deny.
“Right. Give me that earpiece. A little more serenading and you’ll be beating down his door for a private concert. Wha
t is it with women and musicians?” Blake asks huffily.
“Hmm,” is all I say. How cute is it that Blake is bent out of shape because I showed an obvious enjoyment for Paul’s music?
“Now are you satisfied that Jackson isn’t as creepy as you thought?” Blake asks, turning to leave.
“Okay, so he’s not as creepy as I thought, but now that I know he’s a musician…they’re kind of emotional and brooding. Our two murders were crimes of passion—they weren’t premeditated.”
“How do you know that?”
“Stranglings are rarely premeditated, unless you’re like a total psycho serial killer. Normal people don’t decide to commit murder and purposely go empty-handed figuring, ‘Oh, I’ll just wing it when I get there.’”
“Normal people?” Blake leans his head back and laughs. “I love to listen to you reason things out.” Did he mean that in a good way? I blush as he continues, “What about Hannah, though? Premeditated?”
“No.”
“And your reasoning on that one?”
I explain, “The killer used the tools at hand. Chase her into the puddle; throw in the radio sitting next to it. Instant murder.”
“You think Jackson’s smart enough to think that fast on his feet?” he asks.
“Paul’s not stupid. He may have no social skills, but he’s intelligent enough.” Just to get a rise out of Blake, I add, “He can spell better than you can. I would know.”
“All right, Hart. You’ve stalled long enough tonight. Now we go watch my surveillance video.”
“But—” I begin.
“No buts.” He takes my hand again and drags me back through the rows of gravestones to his car.
***
I have driven past Blake’s grandfather’s house many times but have never been inside. The place is a mansion, and it looks a lot like the White House. It’s just south of town on a huge parcel of wooded land, set back far from the road. As we approach the house I can see all the beautiful landscaping that has been expertly manicured. Blake invites me inside, and the interior is so stunning I have no words. A gigantic cut crystal chandelier hangs in the foyer over a black and white checkerboard marble floor. The staircase is curving and grand, with polished wood steps. The wallpaper is a gorgeous deep red with a raised floral pattern. Blake must have noticed my mouth gaping open in awe, because he asks me if I want the grand tour. Naturally, I jump at the chance and follow him around the house.
Each room is more gorgeously decorated than the next, and at last he brings me outside to the most beautiful pool I’ve ever seen. The water is lit from below with colored lights, giving it an enticing glow. Over in the corner sits a sunken hot tub, steaming and bubbling away. There is even a rock wall on one side of the pool with a fountain, creating a waterfall into the pool.
Again, I must be gaping, because Blake offers, “Want to take a dip?”
“Too bad I left my suit at home. That pool is irresistible!”
“You don’t need a suit. Promise I won’t look,” Blake says solemnly.
I don’t believe him for a second. “Right. Maybe next time.”
“You’ve stalled long enough. Now for the porn.”
He shows me to the basement, which is largely taken up by an actual theater, complete with red leather theater seats, overstuffed brown suede couches, and gold curtains on the walls. He presses a remote, and a screen descends from somewhere in the ceiling. He disappears into a little room off the back of the theater, and the slightly grainy video footage begins to play on the big screen.
Blake reappears with two bowls in hand. “Popcorn?” he mumbles with his mouth full.
I raise my eyebrows. “You seriously think you can eat popcorn and watch Jed nail his secretary?”
Blake pauses mid-chew and sets down both bowls. “Yeah…no. Let’s get serious, Nancy Drew,” he orders as he pulls me down onto one of the squishy couches beside him. “We’re looking for anything Stewart would say or do to indicate he killed Hannah, and/or Audra.”
“You know this tape wouldn’t hold up in court. And furthermore, you couldn’t even show it to the police without getting arrested.”
“But…I could do a big exposé in the paper, citing anonymous sources of course, that could lead the police to mount an investigation. Then if the police couldn’t put a case together, at least the town gossip would ruin him.”
“Good point,” I concede. “Let’s watch.”
After two boring hours, the video is a total bust. All that’s happened so far is Jed doing paperwork and computer work at his desk. He gets the occasional client phone call, but other than that, nada.
I’m just beginning to nod off to sleep when Blake shouts, “Hey—are you watching this?” I was just asleep enough that his voice startles me, causing me to fling my arms out and smack him in the nose. “Ow, Hart,” he grumbles.
“Sorry. What are you freaking out about?”
He rewinds the video a few frames. “Listen to this phone call.”
Obviously we can only hear one side of the conversation, but it is a doozy. Jed picks up the phone and says, “Jed Stewart,” rapidly followed by, “I thought I made it clear to you that we’re over.”
He pauses a moment and then says, “It makes no difference that they’re both gone. I’m still not taking you back. It’s over. Besides, weren’t you and Hannah supposed to be friends? She’s not even been dead two days and here you come sniffing back around me again.”
We hear a faint screeching noise coming from the receiver as Jed holds it away from his ear. “Don’t call here again,” he commands, slamming the handset down and shaking his head.
“There!” Blake jumps up, snapping his fingers and pointing at the screen. “I knew it. He was cheating with more women than just his two secretaries, and this one was a friend of Hannah’s.”
“Does that really tell us anything, though, besides that he’s kind of skeevy for having an affair with one of his wife’s friends? And who cares if he was cheating with three women as opposed to two?” I yawn tiredly.
“Um, ah, I…don’t know,” Blake admits. “But I do know that he’s a bastard.”
“You’ve established that.”
“Fine. Just keep watching,” Blake pouts as he flops back down on the couch.
After another hour of mind-numbing video, I am completely exhausted and can’t even see straight. It’s nearly two o’clock in the morning. “I’m so done with this. Take me home,” I plead.
“Not just yet. Sit tight, Hart. Our porn is starting.” Blake gestures to the screen.
I see a beautiful young woman strutting toward Jed’s desk slowly with her hands on her hips. She reaches up and takes the clip out of her hair and shakes her head. Her hair cascades down her back. Barf! How cliché.
“That’s his secretary,” Blake whispers loudly, pointing at the screen.
“I got that.”
Jed comes around to the front of his desk to meet her and takes her into his arms. They begin kissing lustfully, and she pulls away, grabbing him by the tie and leading him…off-screen.
“What? Oh, come on!” Blake exclaims. “I had a whole arsenal of size jokes to tell during this scene!”
“Classy,” I murmur as I drift to sleep.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I awake lazily and, not knowing exactly where I am, try to peer around. Hmm. I’m still in Blake’s house. I feel a movement next to me and realize I’m curled up next to Blake on the couch, my head on his chest, his arm around my waist. Oh, how many times I have woken up alone, wishing that my dreams had come true and I would be in this very position. My joy at waking up next to Blake is short-lived when my eyes finally decide to focus and I get a look at the clock on a nearby table. 9:04. In the morning. Holy shit, I slept all night at Blake’s. I pop up and shake him.
“Blake! Wake up! We’re supposed to be at work by now! Hurry!”
“What?” He mutters groggily. “What time is it?”
“9:04. Move!” I bellow,
running for the stairs. I stop when I hear a loud chiming sound. “Is that your doorbell?” I ask.
“Yeah. I’ll get it. It’s kind of early for visitors, though.”
Blake bounds past me and up the stairs. I hope whoever is at his door doesn’t take up much of his time because we are LATE! I blearily make my way up the stairs. When I get to the main floor I hear Blake saying, “Hart? She’s…ah…Let me get her.” Who in the world would even know I’m here? This is impossible! I hurry into the foyer to find William, my cop friend, standing just inside the door. A police visit to your home first thing in the morning is never a good sign.
“Hey, William,” I say, smoothing my hair back as best I can.
“Hello, Lizzie. I need to ask you a couple of questions.” His face is serious, and I can tell this is not a social call. I get cold all over in a matter of seconds. Did we get caught for breaking into Jed’s office last night?
“I just needed to ask you if you saw anything suspicious last night on your, uh, walk.”
Okay. Don’t panic. Don’t let your face turn red like you always do, Lizzie. Take a deep breath and answer the man’s question. Without. Looking. Guilty!
“No, I don’t remember seeing anything out of the ordinary. Did something happen?” I ask innocently.
“A nearby office was possibly broken into. There was a rock thrown through the back door’s window. Did you hear any breaking glass or see anyone running?”
“No. I didn’t hear or see any of that. Sorry,” I lie to my friend, the nice police officer.
“I think that’s all I need. Thank you both.” William leaves, never breaking out of serious cop mode.
Whirling around, I turn on Blake. “Your little stunt last night almost got us in some serious trouble! What did he say to you?”
“Basically he asked me the same questions he asked you. Great job lying to the cops, by the way.” He chuckles at my angry glare. “Just wait here. I’ll take a quick shower, and then I’ll take you home,” he says, making his way to the second floor. He turns. “Unless…you think it would save time if we showered together,” he offers, a slow smile creeping across his face.
It's Just a Little Crush Page 13
