Family Case of Murder

by Vanessa Gray Bartal

  “Ah, that delightful yet cuttingly painful sense of humor of yours. Oh, how I’ll miss it while you bask in another man’s adoration. But don’t feel sorry for me because this weekend is shaping up to be a good one, what with the copious amounts of time I’ll be spending at the hospital hearing Mrs. Rae tell me about her urine output--which she does even when she’s not in the hospital, FYI.”

  Lacy was laughing again. “I’m going to miss you,” she said.

  “You can call me. Day or night. I’ll put you on speaker with Mrs. Rae; we’ll hash out any problems together, just the three of us.”

  “That sounds perfectly normal. I’ll see you when I get back.”

  “I’ll be here. And, on a serious note, I know you’re going to get through this weekend just fine. You’ve got this.”

  “Say that again when I get back and start planning Riley’s shower.”

  “What?”

  “Another time, perhaps. My therapy session is at an end for today. Tell Mrs. Rae I hope she—“

  “Be nice,” Tosh warned.

  “Feels better. That’s what I was going to say all along.”

  “Sure it was. See you.”

  “See you,” she said. She disconnected and stared at her phone, biting her lip. Should she call Jason or see him in person? Since she was going to ask something monumental, in person was a safer bet. Checking the time on her phone, she saw that it was suppertime. Unless he was working overtime, he should be just waking up for the midnight shift.

  She walked to his house, using the time to try and plan her attack, but when he opened the door, the words flew out of her head. If his appearance was any indication, then he had just woken up because his hair was tousled and his cheeks stubbled. He wore a gray t-shirt, a worn pair of jeans, and no socks. Have mercy, even his feet were sexy.

  “I’ll take three boxes of Thin Mints,” he said, probably because she was staring stupidly at his feet.

  “You’ve kissed me, and now you’re calling me a Girl Scout; I’m not sure how to feel about that.”

  “I’ve kissed you? It’s been so long, I can’t remember.”

  Lacy had declared a moratorium on kissing since Cindy came to town. Jason was annoyingly vague about their relationship, and Lacy wouldn’t give in until she had a clear answer. She’d suffered a brief relapse at Christmas, but that’s what the holidays were all about—making stupid, regrettable decisions.

  “In case I was being too subtle, that was an invitation for a refresher course,” Jason said.

  “Can I come in?” Lacy asked.

  He raised his arm and she ducked under. He closed the door and followed her to the living room. “So what is it?” he asked. “You’re uncharacteristically quiet. Is it your grandfather? Is he okay?” He took a step closer, searching her face.

  “He’s fine, maybe a little grumpy. The doctor put him on a special diet. Grandma is learning to cook low fat. Also, unicorns exist now and time is moving backwards. I never thought I would see my grandmother substitute applesauce for vegetable oil in a recipe. Blech.”

  “Healthy food will grow on you,” Jason said.

  “You know what else grows on you? Fungus. And no one is suggesting I eat that. Besides, there’s a new bakery in town. I’ve found a new supplier. No worries.”

  “I would find that statement amusing if you hadn’t almost broken my fingers trying to pry brownies out of them. How does your grandma feel about you buying outside baked goods?”

  “I haven’t told her yet. I’ve been putting the healthy stuff in my napkin and sneaking the good stuff to my room.”

  “I’m going over that statement in my head and reconciling it with the fact that I’ve repeatedly kissed you,” Jason said.

  “On that note,” she began.

  He stepped closer and rested his hands on her biceps. “Yes?”

  She took a deep breath and blurted it at all at once. “Riley’s shower in the Hamptons is this weekend and I need a date will you go to New York with me please I’ll pay for you ticket and rental car by the way you look incredibly good right now.”

  “Let’s break that down into pieces. Your sister is having a bridal shower this weekend?”

  She nodded.

  “In the Hamptons?”

  She nodded again.

  “You’re asking me to go with you?”

  Another nod.

  “And you think I look good even though I just rolled out of bed?”

  Vigorous nodding.

  He stared at a spot over her head, scraping his bottom teeth over his upper lip. “I’ll go with you on one condition.”

  Lacy scanned the room. “I’m sorry, did I walk into a live taping of Let’s Make a Deal?”

  He ignored her. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night, and I’ll do it.”

  “You want me to have dinner with you? That’s it?”

  “Not just dinner. A nice, sit down, go to a restaurant dinner. Like—dare I say it—a real live date.”

  Now it was her turn to think it over. “I’ll have dinner with you on one condition.”

  “Here it comes,” he said.

  “You have to go to the Stakely building with me and help me pick out some clothes.”

  He blinked at her a few times. “See, now I’m beginning to understand why we can’t ever get it together; it’s because you’ve been under the delusion that I’m a woman.” He shook his head. “I don’t do fashion shows.”

  She clutched at his shirt and stood on her toes to try and shake him a little. “If that is your attempt at teasing me out of my nervousness, then it is a horrible failure. I need advice.”

  He scanned her up and down, his gaze resting on her hair. “Lose the bun. It’s hideous.” She frowned and he touched his index finger to her lip. “Keep the pout—it’s cute.” He leaned in to kiss her, but she dodged him.

  “I’m serious. I really need you to help me pick out what to wear.”

  “In what universe would I know that information?” he asked. “I own exactly five shirts and they’re all gray.”

  They were more of a charcoal, really, and they went perfectly with his dark hair and kaleidoscope eyes, a fact of which he was probably well aware. “I need to know what looks good from a man’s point of view.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Robert will be there and I want to look good,” she practically yelled. “Not just good, but eat-your-heart-out good. And that is why I’m going to the Stakely building, because I’m breaking out the big guns. I’m going to wear my grandmother’s clothes.”

  “I didn’t think you and Mrs. Craig were the same size, but you could probably borrow that purple muumuu thing she was wearing at the hospital the other night. Redheads look good in purple.”

  “Wow, what a time for you to turn into Mr. Hilarious. I’m talking about my biological grandmother’s clothes, the one that cost the same as the gross domestic product of several small European countries combined. Now will you please put me out of my misery and say you’ll come with me?”

  “But I’m hungry,” he said.

  “I’ll buy you some tacos from the Italian place,” she promised.

  “Only in our town would a statement like that make sense. Okay.” He stumbled back a step when she threw her arms around him and hugged.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his palm to her back. “Or we could stay here. I could throw some steaks on the grill. I don’t know, surely we could think of some way to pass the time.”

  She pulled back to look at him. “If you think steaks trump designer clothes, then you don’t know women at all.”

  “If you think I was actually talking about steak, then you don’t know men at all,” he said, but he allowed her to lead him from the house after grabbing his keys, wallet, and shoes on the way out the door.

  Chapter 5

  “Whoa, this place is awesome.”

  Jason was standing in the middle of the fourth floor of the
Stakely building, turning in a slow circle, the bag of tacos in his hand temporarily forgotten.

  “Why do you make it sound like you’ve never been here before?” she asked. “I gave you the tour.”

  “We couldn’t come up here because of the giant detective-induced hole in the roof.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” she said, shuddering as she stared at the ceiling where the repair had been made.

  Her grandmother’s clothes were in the middle of the room. They were under plastic, but she still worried about rodents. “I should get a cat,” she murmured.

  “What are you going to do with this place?” he asked.

  “I have no idea. Storage for now.”

  “This would make an awesome loft,” he said.

  “Yes, but who in this town could afford to rent this place?”

  “Um, you,” he said. “Why don’t you live here? This place is seriously amazing, Red.”

  She bit her lip, smiling as she peeked around the corner of the clothes and watched him take in the panorama. “You want it?” she asked.

  He stopped short and looked at her. “What?”

  “You love it so much, you can live here. I won’t even charge you rent.”

  “Don’t joke about stuff like that,” he said. He sat on the floor and pulled out his tacos, looking decidedly grumpy.

  “Who says I’m joking? The place is going to waste. Maybe with you here the mice would stay away.”

  “I’m not going to take an apartment from you like some sort of kept man.”

  She glanced at him again before bending over to laugh out loud. “Did you really just call yourself a kept man?”

  “You know what I mean. You’re not paying my way for stuff.”

  “Are you seriously upset about this?” she asked. She wiped her eyes, but she was still bent over, staring at him.

  “You’re a millionaire. I’m a cop. How can that not be an issue?”

  “How can that be an issue? Before I became a millionaire I felt rich if I bought the fancy ketchup. I’m not a millionaire, at least not by any classic standards.”

  “Just the one where you have a million dollars in the bank,” he said.

  “I don’t have that much anymore. I bought this place, and I’ve been paying for the renovations until the grant comes through.”

  “Oh, so you’re rich and a landowner.”

  “A landowner? What are you talking about, Simon Kenton? Did we travel back to the nineteenth century? Since when does owning property define one’s worth?”

  “Since Adam and Eve staked out the apple tree in the Garden of Eden.” He bit into a taco, furiously tearing off a huge mouthful. It was amazing that he could eat while scowling so deeply.

  “Great, I’m so glad to know you’ve added another layer of issues between us. As if there weren’t enough already,” she said.

  “What does it matter when you avoid me like the plague anyway?” he asked, swallowing a mouthful of taco. “I thought things were getting back on track over Christmas, and then you spend New Year’s in Chicago and I’m suddenly persona non grata again when you return. What happened up there anyway, Red? Did you make a decision and forget to tell me? Because you two looked awfully cozy at that restaurant the other night.”

  “You looked awfully cozy yourself with your ex-girlfriend.” She hadn’t meant to say it, but he made her so angry it just popped out. And when he smiled, she knew she’d been had. So far she had avoided making any sort of jealous display over Cindy. All that was down the drain now.

  “You don’t like seeing me with another woman?” he asked.

  She turned, smoothing her index finger over an Alexander McQueen original. “You know I don’t,” she said, her voice fading almost to a whisper by the time it reached him in the cavernous space.

  “Then do something about it,” he said. “Or did you already? Is that what this weekend is about?”

  She took a moment, trying to find the best way to phrase it. “This weekend is about fulfilling a promise I made to my grandfather and fulfilling a command given by my mother and finally, once and for all, letting go of the past and moving on. And in the process of doing all that, I’m going to need a friend. Beyond that, I don’t know. I just really don’t. I have no idea what I’m going to be like after this is all over, but I know I’m actually looking forward to moving on.”

  He studied her, his taco forgotten once again. “All right, then. Just be honest with me, that’s all I ask.”

  Lacy’s gut wrenched with guilt because this was the point where she should tell him that she had asked Tosh first, but if she did, he might renege, and she needed him too much to risk it. So she nodded and turned toward the clothes once again.

  After his initial boredom, Jason seemed to get into the swing of things and enjoy himself. Lacy changed behind the large rack of clothes, cycling through outfits at a maddening pace. She already had in mind what she wanted to wear; she simply needed someone’s agreement. At last she had assembled a wardrobe, complete with designer shoes, for the entire week. She also selected a dress for her dinner with Jason. It was the quintessential little black dress and she hadn’t tried it on for him, intending to save it instead.

  Jason gathered his trash and stood, reaching to carry the clothes for her. “That was actually sort of fun,” he said.

  “Of course it was. Kept men always enjoy fashion shows,” Lacy said.

  He reached out and hooked his arm around her neck, drawing her closer. “You’re never going to let me forget I said that, are you?”

  “I’m a millionaire landowner. We don’t forget anything the little people say,” she replied.

  He groaned. “Fine, just for that I’m going to tell you something I probably shouldn’t tell you.”

  “What?” They stepped into the freight elevator.

  “There are gaping holes in your clothes rack. You might think about that when you wonder why I kept encouraging you to change outfits.” He smiled, an impish little twisting of his lips that made her want to simultaneously smack and kiss him.

  Instead she gasped. “Officer, arrest this man. He’s a peeper.” She wasn’t truly alarmed because the gaps in the clothes couldn’t have afforded much of a view. Probably just enough to intrigue him further.

  He shifted her clothes to his right hand and backed her up against the wall of the elevator, resting his left hand on her waist. “I couldn’t help myself; I’ve always wondered if the rich get dressed the same way I do.”

  “And do they?” she asked, whispering because he was about to kiss her and she was pinned like a butterfly to a board, assuming the butterfly had no desire to get away.

  “No, they wear dresses and pretty little lace things underneath.”

  Someone cleared his throat pointedly to their left. Jason and Lacy turned to see that the elevator doors had opened on the third floor where Mr. Middleton and a team of contractors stood staring at them.

  “Pretty lace things underneath what?” Mr. Middleton said, and Lacy was sure that Jason was now the butterfly pinned by her grandfather’s intense and accusing gaze.

  “Oh, geez,” Jason said, and the doors slid closed again.

  “So, that was awkward,” Jason said. They were sitting in Lacy’s grandmother’s driveway in his car, and they hadn’t spoken a word since they left the Stakely building.

  “My life is awkward, so I’ve sort of grown used to it,” Lacy said.

  “Why is that? I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  “Robert used to say the same thing, only he made it sound like a compliment.”

  He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Are you really comparing me to your slimy ex?”

  “No. I’ve just been trying to hold old memories at bay and they keep intruding,” she said, sighing.

  Jason reached over the seat and took her hand. “It’s going to be okay, Red. I’ll be there. What’s the worst that could—“

  She reached over the seat, pressing her fingers to his lips.
“Please do not finish that sentence. Haven’t you learned by now that whenever you say that, life decides to show you exactly the worst thing that could happen?”

  “Fine, let me rephrase. You, me, a weekend in the Hamptons. What could go wrong?”

  Lacy groaned. “You don’t get it at all. You can’t say things like that, put those questions out there, and not expect to have them answered. Because I can see the writing on the wall, and when you say ‘What could go wrong?’ we’re going to find out what could go wrong, and the answer is everything.”

  “Okay, worst case scenario, what does this weekend look like?”

  “It starts with the airport. I get nervous and make a terrorist joke and the next thing I know, the TSA screeners are checking my tonsils from the reverse angle. Then the airport loses my luggage and I have to wear the same outfit over and over while Riley will sympathetically make homeless person jokes the entire weekend. Then there’s Robert’s family. Don’t even get me started on them. Let’s not forget that I’m going to be seeing Robert himself. What if I’m not as over him as I think I am? What if I have a huge, horrific breakdown on first sight? Then there’s my sister. Riley is to drama what Magneto from the X-men is to metal. She can beckon it at will and wrap it around her fingers, using only her mind. And then there’s you.”

  “Me? What could be bad about me?”

  “We could fight because, let’s face it, we spend half our time fighting anyway.”

  “Yeah, but the other half,” he began, but she interrupted.

  “The other half you have a way of making me lose my head and forget myself completely, which I also don’t want to do this weekend. I need to be firing on all cylinders. No distractions.”

  “That’s what I am to you? A distraction?”

  “Yes, one big amazing distraction that on a normal day clouds my thinking to the point of stupidity. And this isn’t a normal day; it’s the weekend, the one that’s been looming since Robert and I broke up. So, please, don’t bring any more curses on our heads by asking what could possibly go wrong because the list is endless.”

  “I don’t think your sister is the only one with a penchant for drama,” Jason said.