“Um, do I have to explain it to you in detail?” I’m pretty sure I don’t need to define what an affair is to a police officer.
He’s exasperated with me now. “Lizzie, I don’t need any of your sass. Tell me how you know this.”
“Beth Campbell told me.”
“Mr. Stewart’s partner?”
“Yes.”
“How did she know about the affair?”
“She caught Audra and Jed in his office in the act.”
“How do you know Beth Campbell, and why did she tell you about the affair?”
“I don’t really know her that well. I was delivering her Cutie Paws order from Hannah’s party, and we got to talking. She was kind of, um, drunk, and very talkative,” I finish lamely.
“What else did she say?” William asks.
“She said she thought Hannah had killed herself. Beth had been the one who told Hannah about Jed and Audra’s affair. She was afraid that Hannah had committed suicide because of what she’d said.”
“Suicide?” William asks, raising his eyebrows.
“I’m just telling you what she said.” Frustrated, I cross my arms. I’m getting a little tired of being grilled, and it seems William still thinks I’m an idiot for considering the whole murder angle.
“So you don’t agree that it was suicide.”
“No, as I told you before, I think it was murder. I got a call from Hannah just before we found her. She said ‘No! Help!’ If you’re committing suicide, you don’t call for help. And, if she had just tripped into that puddle by accident, she wouldn’t have had the time to say ‘No! Help!’” I realize I’m gripping my arms so tightly that my knuckles are turning white. I try desperately to relax, but I don’t think that’s going to happen until William is done with me.
“And you seem to think that Ms. Downing’s death and Mrs. Stewart’s death are related,” he surmises.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Dude, I just told you—” I start angrily, but Blake interrupts me by placing a hand on my arm.
He jumps in, “We think that Jed Stewart could have killed both women. He had fired Audra Downing for breaking things off with him, and his wife had just confronted him about his infidelity.”
“Sounds like you two have it all figured out,” William says sarcastically.
Glancing at Blake, I say, “We have another idea, too. Paul Jackson, who found Audra dead, was infatuated with both Audra and Hannah. He told me today that he was tired of having to deal with this whole situation and that he was leaving town for a while.”
Blake interjects, “For the record, I disagree with her theory on Jackson. I don’t think he’s capable of it.”
“It’s been my experience that you can’t count anyone out. Unfortunately, people are capable of just about anything.” William shakes his head dismally, writing in his file. “Now, back to the attack on your car, Lizzie. It sounds like you’ve been doing a little snooping around both Jed Stewart and Paul Jackson. Is it possible one of them found out about it and tried to send you a message?”
“That was my theory,” Blake says. “However, now I’m not so sure—Stewart wouldn’t have bombed his own office while he was inside. Besides, didn’t the bottle come from outside, through the window?”
“I see you’ve been snooping around as well, Mr. Morgan.”
“It’s kind of my job,” Blake replies, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
William says, “I hope you doing your ‘job’ isn’t putting Ms. Hart here in danger.”
Blake looks taken aback. He growls, “I would never do anything to put her in danger.”
Is it just me, or is there way too much testosterone in here?
“I’ve seen her more times the past couple of weeks than I have since we graduated from high school. It seems to me that was about the time she started hanging around with you,” William says accusingly.
After this rollercoaster of a week, I’m getting pretty good at sensing Blake’s boiling point, and he is right there. He opens his mouth to fire something back, but I quickly clap my hand over his mouth and tell William, “Paul definitely couldn’t have bombed Jed’s office because he was at our office party tonight. I was talking to him around the time the fire started.”
“Well, that puts the two of them off the hook for the bombings. Anyone else you can think of with a stake in this mess? How about Beth Campbell?” asks William.
Whew. Subject successfully changed. I remove my hand from Blake’s mouth, and he gives me a disapproving glare. He’s still mad, but he’ll be thanking me later when he’s not spending the night in jail for pissing off a cop.
“Beth?” That thought had certainly never crossed my mind. “She was friends with Audra and with Hannah. She wasn’t happy with Jed for having all of those affairs, especially since he was doing it in their office.”
“Maybe she was jealous,” Blake says.
I shake my head. “Eh, I’m not seeing it.”
I don’t see Beth as the killer type. Besides, during her drunken rant she said she thought Hannah had killed herself. Everyone knows you’re at your most truthful when you’re falling down drunk.
“Like I said, I’m not counting anybody out at this point. Now,” William eyes both of us and continues, “is there anything else either of you want to tell me?”
Blake and I look at each other and shrug. “No,” we reply in unison.
“In that case, you can go. Thanks for coming in.” William shows us to the door, but then puts a hand on my arm to stop me. He says in a low voice, “Please be careful, Lizzie. The last thing I want to see is you getting hurt.”
I pat his hand. “Thanks for your concern. Don’t worry—I have people watching out for me.”
I glance over at Blake to find him watching us intently. First he had a dispute with William over my safety that almost went too far, and now he’s studying the two of us talking. Surely he couldn’t be—yes, he is! He’s jealous! That’s a male for you. To hell with the police—he wants to be the one to protect me. If it were me, I’d want the police to take a special interest in protecting one of my friends, rather than feeling like I had to watch out for them all by myself. Men. I will never understand why their egos can take over their brains and hold them hostage. It’s kind of cute, though, when Blake does it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Once inside Blake’s car, I finally start to feel calm again. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. “Are you as relieved as I am?”
“Maybe not as much as you are,” he says, smiling. “Let’s celebrate. It’s the last night of the fair…”
I shake my head emphatically. “Oh, no. Need I remind you what happened the last time we were at the fair together? Besides, it’s almost ten o’clock. They usually pack it up early the last night.”
“How about some ice cream?”
“Sounds perfect. Let’s go!”
We’re both quiet on the way—I’m still jittery from the rapid-fire questioning, and who knows what Blake is thinking after all that has gone on tonight. When we get to Sweet Liberty (yes, it’s practically impossible to find an establishment in Liberty that isn’t some kind of play on patriotic words), we find a monstrous line at the outside walk-up window, so we have no choice but to stand in line and wait.
Blake turns to me and takes both of my hands. “You did a really good job in there tonight,” he says, his voice low and sincere, except for that little smile that’s playing in the corner of his mouth. “And I’m very proud of you for not getting me arrested.” Yeah, he’s making fun of me.
I jerk my hands away and fire back, “Which time? When I didn’t rat you out for your B and E at Jed’s office or for your rock-throwing at his house?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, and by the way, you’re welcome for saving you from getting your ass thrown in the slammer for assaulting an officer!” I poke him in the chest for emphasis. There is no doubt in my mind that William could have easily found a reaso
n to hold Blake for several hours.
“Right. How did you know I was about to blow my top?” he asks interestedly.
“I’ve figured out how you tick—well, at least when you’re angry. The rest of the time I have absolutely no clue what you’re thinking.”
“That’s probably a good thing.”
Flashing me a dazzling smile, Blake draws me to him and kisses the top of my head. Aargh! What is it going to take to get him to make a move? I am getting seriously tired of this platonic bullshit. Maybe he really does have his mind made up. I’ve given him plenty of chances in the last twenty-four hours, and he’s taken none of them. That doesn’t mean I have to quit trying, though.
After we get our ice cream, we find a seat together on one of the benches. Blake turns to me suddenly and asks, “Your friend Officer Johnson made me start thinking—what do we really know about Beth Campbell?”
I stare thoughtfully up at the dark sky. “She was obviously friends with Audra and Hannah.”
“Obviously?”
“Yes, her aunt told me she was friends with Audra, which is why she never said anything about Audra and Jed’s affair, and we know she was friends with Hannah because she felt she should tell her once Jed started sleeping with his new secretary. Plus, she came to Hannah’s Cutie Paws party. That proves they’re friends.”
He smirks. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you about…Cutie Paws, is it?”
I roll my eyes. The last person I want to discuss my second job with is Blake. It’s such an odd product that I sell, especially given my known beef with cats. “What about it?” I ask warily.
“You hate cats, right?”
“Yep.”
“Then why do you sell cat products?”
“It’s good money.”
“I think you secretly like cats.”
I frown. “You’ve met my cat, right?”
“Yes, he’s a great pet—a very friendly little guy.”
“To you, maybe. He’s tried to kill me before, you know.”
“Bob has tried to kill you.” Blake is trying very hard not to smile.
“Yes! He has tripped me a dozen times on my basement steps. And he stares daggers at me all the time. It’s really creepy.”
“Have you ever tried being nice to him?”
“The thought has never crossed my mind.”
Blake throws his head back and laughs, disrupting our banter. He studies me thoughtfully for a moment. “Hart, why is it that you’re not married?”
What?!? Where did that come from? And, more importantly, how do you answer a question like that, especially one asked by someone you’d marry in a heartbeat?
I reply hesitantly, “I…guess I’ve never met the right guy?” What a lame answer, and I made it even lamer by sounding doubtful.
“I don’t get it. You’re smart, funny, and sexy as hell. What, are you afraid of commitment or something?”
I pride myself on being smart and funny, but I can’t get past the ‘sexy as hell’ part. I’ve never thought of myself as the ‘sexy as hell’ type. If he thinks all those things are true, why isn’t he scooping me up? And how can Blake of all people call someone else ‘afraid of commitment’? He’s hardly in a position to judge.
“I’m not afraid of commitment…much. I just…I don’t know.”
I lower my head, not wanting to meet his eyes. The truth is I don’t know why I haven’t settled down yet. I’ve had plenty of chances to make a go of my relationships, but for some reason, I’ve always found a reason to break things off. Maybe I am sort of a commitment-phobe. I’d like to think that if the right person came along, I’d jump at the chance to go all domestic, like normal girls do. I’m sure there’s someone out there for me—I just have to find him. Lately, every fiber of my being is screaming that that someone is Blake, but what can I do? He seems to have made up his mind that we can’t be together, for no better reason than it’s ‘for my own good,’ and I evidently don’t have a say in the matter. I feel a subject change coming on.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask. “I need some sleep.”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
The silence is deafening on the ride back to my house. I don’t have a clue what to say after our last conversation, and it seems Blake is having the same problem. I can’t imagine why he asked me such a probing question at such a random time. Neither one of us speaks until we get into my house, when I announce, “I’m going to bed,” and stalk off toward my bedroom.
“I’m sorry,” Blake calls after me. There it is, finally.
I turn around, crossing my arms. “About what?” I know about what, but I’m going to make him say it.
Blake sighs. He knows exactly what I’m doing. “About asking you that rude question earlier. I didn’t realize you were so sensitive about it.”
“Do you know any single lady who isn’t sensitive about it?”
“Um…ah… No.”
“Okay then.”
Blake moves toward me. “It’s just that…you’ve never really told me much about your past. I want to get to know you. I want to know what makes Lizzie Hart tick.” Wow. Not very many guys want to sit around and just talk, and even fewer actually want to listen.
I ask warily, “What exactly do you want to know?”
“Why don’t you…I don’t know…tell me about what happened with you and your ex? That’s a good start.” He reaches for my hand and leads me to the couch. “Come on. Sleep can wait.”
We sit down, and he reaches over and pulls my legs onto his. He pats me on the shin, and then leaves both of his hands resting there. I’m a little nervous about where this conversation could go.
“We broke up a couple of months ago,” I start.
“Who broke up with whom?” Blake interrupts.
“I broke up with him.”
“Why?”
“I’ll get there, Captain Impatient. Do you want me to tell the story or not?” I retort.
“Go ahead.”
“Like I was saying, as you may have noticed, Lee is one of those good ol’ boys. We pretty much always hung out with his idiot buddies, who were into car racing and beer.”
“I don’t see you as the car racing and beer type.”
“Are you gonna let me tell this?”
“Sorry. Shutting up.”
“We dated for about a year. We got along great. But he just didn’t make me feel alive, you know? It was like he was a better friend than a boyfriend. I don’t know why I let it go on so long—I guess maybe I didn’t want to break up and be alone. He wanted our relationship to be a little more serious and committed, but there was just…no spark.”
I stop there, even though there is more to the story of my relationship with Lee. No one else knows about it, not even Julia or Becca, and I’m not quite ready to discuss it with anyone, including Blake. Maybe someday, but not today.
Blake is silent, either taking in my story or afraid to talk after all of his outbursts.
“I’m done,” I tell him.
“See, I can keep my mouth shut.”
“I see. Now what?”
“So you need a spark, huh? When was the last time you felt a spark?” he asks.
Right now. Practically every moment we’ve been together since the night you first kissed me in my kitchen, Blake. Do I really want to say that, though? Maybe he means the last time I felt a spark before Lee.
“I was engaged once,” I blurt out.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
“But, it didn’t work out.”
“You and your prolific stories. Come on, I need details. Why didn’t it work out?” he probes.
“It was my fault. We met right before I graduated from college and dated for about a year. He asked me to marry him, and I accepted.”
“You’re not going to tell me that you left him at the altar, are you? I kind of have a thing about that,” Blake says uneasily.
“No, nothing like that,” I assure him. “I was dragging my f
eet on setting a date, and I kept putting off making any kind of plans. I think I simply wasn’t ready, and again, even though I loved him, I didn’t feel that spark. He got tired of waiting for me and finally asked for his ring back. It was the right thing for both of us.” I have a little pang of sadness at all the memories and feelings that have suddenly come rushing back.
Blake rubs my legs caringly and asks, “Do you wish things had turned out differently?”
“No. I’m happy with my life. How about you? Do you ever think about how it would have been if your fiancée had gone through with the wedding?”
“Sure. I would be back in Chicago, living in the ‘burbs, riding the train for hours a day to and from work, maybe even with a baby on the way. I sure as hell wouldn’t be just coming back from being questioned by the cops, after an insane week including finding the dead body of my former lover, stalking some hot chick, getting stalked by some not-so-hot chick, shattering windows, bugging someone’s office, breaking and entering, nearly getting my house blown up, and getting to guard the body of said hot chick. Oh, and don’t forget dating my boss, of course.” Blake smiles with that darling twinkle he gets in his eyes.
“For some reason I can’t picture you with a baby on the way,” I tease, patting his flat stomach.
“You know what I mean.”
I ask hopefully, “Well, have you heard enough? Are you going to let me sleep now?”
“Yes. Go ahead.”
I get up to leave, but he catches my hand. “Thanks. I think I know what makes you tick now.”
“Oh, you’ve only scratched the surface of my neuroses. Stay tuned.”
As I’m getting ready for bed, I can’t help but daydream about how nice it would be if Blake wasn’t being such a gentleman and staying out on the couch tonight. It’s been a while for me, and he’s certainly making me feel all kinds of sparks inside. I’ve decided to put a pretty nightgown on, just in case. I hear a knock at my bedroom door. Ooh! Could this be it?
“Hey, Hart. Come out here.” Evidently this is not it. I throw on a silky robe before opening the door to meet Blake out in the hallway. “I’ve been thinking about Beth Campbell. What if she really wasn’t such good friends with Audra and Hannah? Remember in the surveillance video when she confronted Stewart? She was seriously pissed about all of his dalliances with his secretaries. What if they had a history? Maybe he had slept with her and dumped her. Hell hath no fury, right?”
It's Just a Little Crush Page 21
