Mug Shot

by Caroline Fardig

  He tossed me the keys. “You drive.”

  Now I was even more worried. Pete always drove, especially in his own car. I didn’t make a crack about it, but I watched him out of the corner of my eye as we drove the few blocks to his house. He didn’t look right. There was something more going on that he wasn’t telling me. I let us into the house, and he immediately flopped down on his couch, face-first.

  “Pete,” I said sharply.

  “What?” he fired back angrily, not raising his head.

  “You’re hiding something from me.”

  “Am not.”

  “Peter James Bennett, sit your ass up and talk to me. Now.”

  He sat up, his face red and angry. “Yes, Mom. What do you want to talk about? The fact that my girlfriend was murdered last night, or that the cops think I did it?”

  I didn’t back down. “Yes. That’s exactly what I want to talk about. There’s something you’re not telling me. I can see it in your eyes.”

  Pete glared at me for a moment, and then dejectedly put his head in his hands. His voice broke as he admitted, “She was cheating on me, Jules.”

  My heart sank. I knew Cecilia wasn’t good enough for him. I had only told him so about a million times. But I was not about to say it again now. I sat down next to him on the couch and put my arm around him. “Oh, Pete. I’m so sorry.”

  He turned to me, his eyes strained. “She died less than two hours after I left her. If I hadn’t gotten so angry…maybe if I’d tried to talk to her instead of bailing…if we’d even gone somewhere else to talk…”

  I saw where he was going with this, and I didn’t like it. “This is not your fault, Pete,” I insisted. “You cannot blame yourself for something someone else did.”

  He wiped a hand down his face. “If I could have been a little more understanding—”

  “Understanding? She cheated on you. You don’t have to be understanding about that! And you don’t have a crystal ball. There’s no way in hell you could have anticipated what was going to happen to her.”

  Pulling away from me, he got up and began pacing around the room.

  I continued more gently, “Pete, I know it’s your thing to help people, and everyone loves you for it. But this was something that was simply out of your control. You can’t beat yourself up over this. I won’t let you.”

  He stopped pacing and looked at me with a miserable expression. “She wasn’t the only one who died last night.”

  “What? What the hell are you talking about? Who else died?”

  Pete looked away and replied quietly, “Cecilia was pregnant.”

  I felt like I had been kicked in the gut. My jaw dropped, and I couldn’t speak or even breathe. The thought of Pete having a child with Cecilia made me physically ill. However, I willed myself to not react, because this situation was not about me or my feelings.

  “It wasn’t mine,” he added, his voice sounding hurt.

  Overwhelmingly relieved, I let out a pent-up breath. “I know it has to suck to find out something like that, but you have to admit you dodged a bullet there.” Being forever attached to Cecilia was something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Immediately feeling callous when I saw the tortured look on his face, I added, “Sorry, Pete. That came out badly.”

  Wordlessly, he went and poured himself a drink. It was a little early for a drink, but he seemed to need it, so I didn’t make a crack about it. As I watched him drain his glass, I mulled over the conversation we just had, and the wheels in my head started turning. Pete had to have been one of the last people to see Cecilia alive, and there were witnesses to that. She was cheating on him and pregnant with some other guy’s baby. If that wasn’t opportunity and motive, I didn’t know what was.

  Once Pete had set his glass down, I pointed out, “Pete, you do realize that you have the oldest motive in the book for murder, right?”

  “No shit.”

  “So answer me this—Cole said last night Cecilia was groping you before he and Shane left. How did she segue from that to telling you she was knocked up by some other dude?”

  “I don’t know. The whole thing was weird. First she seduces me—”

  “In our tent?” I asked, appalled.

  He raised his eyebrows at me. “I’m a guy. It’s not like I’m going to say no.”

  “Fast-forward to after the part I don’t want to hear about.”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Fine. Afterward, she starts crying and apologizing for leading me on. She says we need to break up.”

  “That’s nuts, even for a Hollingsworth.”

  “True. So I call her out on why in the hell she would jump on me, only to break up with me a few minutes later. Then she starts in on how her hormones are all haywire, and she admits she’s pregnant.”

  “Wow. I bet you freaked out.”

  “No, I got angry, because I always use protection…except maybe for last night, but that was a total fluke.”

  I groaned. “You’re bordering on too much information again.”

  He ignored me, concentrating on a spot on the floor. “She told me…that I didn’t excite her any longer and that she had found someone who did. She said that he wasn’t exactly her type, but he made her feel alive.” His expression was so sad and defeated.

  Cecilia was a fool. I didn’t understand how she could say that Pete didn’t excite her and make her feel more alive than any other man on the planet. Everywhere he went, his infectious personality lit up everyone around him.

  “I always thought she was a robot and didn’t care about that stuff.”

  He shrugged. “We were happy once.”

  My heart hurt for him. “So who’s the other guy?”

  “She didn’t tell me his name. Just that she wanted to try to make a go of it with him since she was carrying his child.”

  “Did he know she was pregnant?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t stick around long enough to find out. I yelled at her a little, and then I left.”

  “Then where did you go?”

  “Home.”

  It was my turn to pace the room. As I listened to Pete’s story, I tried to put together all of the facts, and as they came together, I felt more and more apprehensive. After a minute or two, I stopped and said, “So let me put this in a nutshell. You, Cecilia’s boyfriend, found out that Cecilia was cheating on you and pregnant with another man’s child. The two of you had a loud fight about it, in the exact spot where she was murdered. And you happened to have unprotected sex with Cecilia, the murder victim, in the same general time frame, which was right around the time frame that the coroner says she died. You then went home, alone, where no one could verify your whereabouts. The murder scene is in a tent you own, and your fingerprints are on pretty much everything inside. Did I miss anything?”

  His eyes widened. “Shit. I’m going to take the fall for this, aren’t I?”

  I rubbed my throbbing forehead with my hand. “I think it’s time to lawyer up. How much of this did you tell the police?”

  “Not a lot. I was in a bad place earlier, and Cromwell didn’t press me about too many details.” He smiled weakly at me. “He said you told him I didn’t do it, so he was giving me the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Really?” I couldn’t believe Cromwell would take my word for anything.

  Pete came over to stand in front of me. “He said you went to bat for me. Thanks, Jules.” He hugged me tightly. “Now will you do something else for me?”

  “Anything.”

  He took a step away from me and winced. “You might want to take that back when I tell you what it is.”

  “Try me.”

  “Will you go to Delta Hollingsworth’s house with me so I can give her my condolences?”

  My face fell. “Is that a freaking joke?”

  “I told you that you might want to take your offer back.”

  “Can I stay in the car?” I whined.

  “No, you’re Stan’s girl, so you need to pay your respe
cts, too. You have to use your manners here in the South.”

  “I barely know his mother. And don’t call me Stan’s ‘girl.’ ”

  “Why? Did you finally come to your senses and break up with him?”

  “There’s nothing to break up. You know we’re not serious.” I hesitated, hating to further ruin Pete’s already bad opinion of Stan, but interested to hear Pete’s take on the situation. “Speaking of Stan, something feels off about him. I can’t put my finger on it. Did I tell you how weird he acted earlier?”

  “No.”

  “Well, he acted weird. Like totally unemotional about his sister’s death. It surprised me and kind of bothered me.”

  Pete shrugged. “He probably did it.”

  That was not what I wanted to hear. “I wouldn’t go that far. Anyway, let’s get this ‘paying my respects’ bullshit over with. But if Delta shoots me on sight, I’m blaming you.”

  Chapter 7

  When we pulled up to Delta Hollingsworth’s estate, I started feeling queasy. She probably wouldn’t take kindly to me barging into her home. After all, as Stan so kindly put it, the woman despised me. Stan’s sports car was parked out front, so he was there, too. I wondered if the shock had worn off and he was beginning to deal with his sister’s death. Not that I wished for him to be upset, but I hoped he had snapped out of his apparent disinterest at least.

  I said imploringly to Pete, “Are you sure I can’t sit out here and keep the car running for you?”

  “No, just do this and you’ll be done. Then maybe you won’t even have to go to the funeral. That is, unless you want to go, to keep your best pal company.”

  “I hate you right now.”

  “I know.”

  Stan answered the door, his face set in a scowl. “What do you want?” he snapped at Pete.

  “We came over to give your family our sympathies. Is Delta home?” Pete asked.

  “Are you sure you didn’t come over to give us your apologies, Pete?” he replied icily. I did not care for his tone or his implication.

  Pete stood straighter and clenched his fists. “You trying to say something, Stan?” Even though Pete wasn’t a fighter, he fancied himself one. He had developed some decent muscles through his boxing lessons, and could easily take Stan in a fight. But I couldn’t imagine Stan letting it get to that point—he was kind of a sissy.

  “No,” Stan replied quickly, taking a step back to let us through the door. I called that one. “Juliet,” he said sweetly, putting his arm around my waist. “How nice of you to visit my family. Come with me.”

  Stan’s abrupt turnaround in attitude did nothing to calm my worries about him, but really, I should have been giving him the benefit of the doubt. He’d just lost his sister, and he probably didn’t have a clue how to deal with it. As a good friend, or whatever I was to him, I should have been trying to be more sympathetic, not more suspicious. I put my arm around him.

  Stan showed us into a ridiculously overdecorated living room, where Delta was reclining on a pink silk upholstered sofa, one hand flung over her eyes and the other holding an empty glass. Abigail was sitting in a nearby chair, and, quite frankly, she looked stoned.

  Letting me go and walking over to stand near his mother, Stan said hopefully, “Look, Mother. Juliet has come to give her condolences for Cecilia.” His voice turned disdainful as he added, “And she brought Pete along.”

  Delta didn’t remove her hand from her eyes. She cried drunkenly, “Stanley? Stanley! Is that Yankee whore of yours in my house?”

  I sighed and glared at Pete. Leaning over to him, I whispered, “I’m so glad you convinced me to come here with you.”

  “In hindsight, it may not have been one of my better ideas,” he replied under his breath.

  “You think?” Taking a few steps toward Stan’s mother, I said stiffly, “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Hollingsworth. Cecilia was a beautiful woman and a very talented musician. I very much admired her charity work.” She probably didn’t hear me, since she was still rambling about Yankees and whores. Stan didn’t bother to defend my honor. I approached Abigail, who was oblivious to the whole thing, fixated blindly on a spot over my shoulder. “Abigail, I’m so sorry about your sister. I know the two of you were close. And I hope you’re feeling better from your accident.” She stared at me blankly and didn’t respond. I’d had enough. “The Yankee whore is out,” I muttered to Pete as I passed him on my way to go stand by the window, beyond throwing range should Delta decide to chuck her glass at me.

  Pete went over to Delta and knelt down beside her. “Delta,” he began tentatively.

  She took her hand off her eyes and tried to focus on him. “Pete, dear? I thought Stanley said you were in jail.”

  “I said he should be in jail,” Stan clarified, looking smugly at Pete.

  “No, Delta, I came over to give you my condolences. I loved your daughter, and it’s hard to think about life without her. I’m so sorry for your family’s loss. I know how much you must be hurting. If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

  “How nice. You always were such a nice boy. You have Cecilia bring you by for my holiday party.”

  Huh? Did she not realize that Cecilia was dead? I caught Stan’s eye and gave him a questioning look. He made a drinking motion with his hand. Maybe Delta was so bombed that she blocked out that information. As much as I disliked her, I felt for her—I couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a child.

  Pete said uncertainly to Delta, “Yes, I’ll have to do that.”

  She peered around and whispered loudly, “And make sure not to let Stanley bring that Yankee whore of his.”

  Seriously? “Pete,” I said pointedly, tapping my watch.

  He shot me a rueful look over his shoulder. Getting up, he moved over to stand in front of Abigail. “Abigail, I’m so sorry. You two were so close…I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now. You know I’m here for you if you need anything.” Abigail flicked her eyes at him while he was speaking, but when he finished, she returned to staring at the wall. He stepped back and said awkwardly, “Well, we’re going…”

  Delta had gone back to her original pose, Abigail hadn’t moved, and Stan was glaring at Pete again. I was so ready to get the hell out of this house. I took off for the front door. Before I could get out, Stan caught me by the arm, stopping me in the foyer.

  He smiled at me hopefully. “Are we still on for the ball tonight?”

  Hesitating, I replied, “Um…yes, we are, only I’m not going to be such a great date. Savannah wants me to help her with some behind-the-scenes stuff. She needs me to be there early, so she’s going to pick me up. Will it be okay to meet you there?”

  His smile faltered a little, but he didn’t complain. “I’m happy you’re going to help her in Cecilia’s absence. I look forward to seeing you there.”

  It irked me how stiff Stan was sometimes. And to use the term “Cecilia’s absence”? It sounded like she had the flu or was on vacation or something. I had never seen family members react so strangely and indifferently to a death of one of their own. Then again, the Hollingsworths weren’t your typical family.

  Feeling sorry for Stan, I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek just as Pete came by, ushering me out the door. Stan followed him outside, his face angry again.

  “You won’t get away with this, you know,” Stan sneered.

  “What the hell, man?” Pete replied, wheeling around. “I didn’t kill Cecilia, and you need to quit insinuating that I did.”

  “You were with her right before she died!”

  “Whoa,” I said, getting a bad feeling in my gut. “How do you know that, Stan?”

  “I saw him.” He pointed a finger in Pete’s face. “I heard arguing, and then I saw you coming out of that tent!”

  Pete pushed Stan’s hand away. “That would mean you were there, too, genius. How do I know you didn’t kill her? Tell me something, Stan—who inherits Hollingsworth Industries with
Cecilia gone?”

  Stan’s only response was, “Get off my mother’s property. Now.”

  Smirking, Pete headed toward his car. I hurried after him, but before we could get there, we were ambushed by Don Wolfe.

  “Hey, Juliet. Long time no see,” he drawled.

  I blew out a disgusted breath. “You again? What now?”

  “I thought I’d come over and get the family’s thoughts on the tragic loss of dear Cecilia,” he said, faking a concerned smile.

  Pete turned on him, and I managed just in time to keep his fist from connecting with Wolfe’s stupid face. Clinging to Pete’s arm with both hands, I said, “He’s not worth an assault charge.”

  Wolfe interjected, “That never stopped you from kneeing me in the balls.”

  I did have a habit of taking my aggression toward Wolfe out on his man parts. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Those were accidents,” I replied innocently. “Let’s go, Pete.” I steered Pete, who was fuming mad, back to his car.

  He threw himself into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and zoomed away. “Is everyone in this town insane?” he asked, disgusted.

  “Wolfe is a creep. You know what he did to me last time. I’m sure he’s not going to rest until he gets his story.”

  He shook his head. “And Stan. Can you believe that guy? In trying to point the finger at me, he admitted that he was also at the park around the time Cecilia died. Dumbass.”

  “Yeah, he’s not reacting at all like I thought he would. Besides getting in your face, he seems so detached about what happened to Cecilia. He’s all raring to go to the ball tonight. But…maybe getting angry and cutting his other emotions off is the way he’s choosing to deal with it.”

  Glancing over at me worriedly, he said, “Would you quit defending that idiot?”

  “No one else is going to. I hate to turn my back on him.”

  “It’s better than ending up his next victim.”

  “Pete,” I said hesitantly. Although I was afraid I already knew the answer, I asked, “Um, who does inherit Hollingsworth Industries now?”