So far, I’d been pretty successful. Then my mother suddenly appeared at my side, her hand wrapped around the bicep of an average-looking man in his thirties.
“James Benchley, I’d like you to meet my youngest daughter, Rosalyn.”
“Hello, Rosalyn, it’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand.
Oh crap, a set up. I smiled. “You, too, James.”
“Your mother tells me you’re a student.”
I raised my brows. “She did?”
Usually she liked to hide the fact I’d been in school for the past six years and still didn’t have my Bachelor’s. “Yes,” I said, “I am a student.”
“I’m a big believer in continuing your education. Going for your doctorate, that’s impressive.”
I raised a brow at my mother. “Thank you.”
Her smile hardened. “I told James how important your studies are to you, dear. James is a financial planner.”
“You don’t say?”
When a roaming waiter presented us with a tray of salmon and dill covered cucumber slices, James’ attention was diverted. My mother leaned closer.
“He’s divorced, no kids, and has a decent job. Be nice,” she hissed in my ear. “Enjoy the party, James,” she said in a loud voice.
With a mouthful of cuke, James smiled and raised his glass to her.
I then spent the next fifteen listening to his complaints about his bitch of an ex-wife and her new boyfriend, Sven, a tennis pro she’d met at the club. They now lived in the house James bought.
When he finally took a breath, I said, “She actually ran over your golf clubs, huh?”
“Yeah, then she backed up and ran over them again. Including my new Titleist irons with steel shafts.” He started tearing up. “I loved those clubs.”
“James, I am on pins and needles to hear more, but would you excuse me for just a second? I’ll be right back.”
I squeezed past him and made my way through the crowd to the other side of the room where Jacks nibbled on a cashew.
“Mom told some bitter divorced guy I was working toward my doctorate.” I set my glass on a side table and snagged a mint. I was starving.
“Make small talk. Nod and smile and pretend you’re listening.” She grabbed another glass of wine from a passing waiter. “She used to do the same thing with me. Except she told people I graduated summa cum laude and I was only magna.”
“You know you’re lucky I love you, right?”
A heavily pregnant woman waddled up to us and began asking Jacks about third trimesters. I moved on.
I tried to remain unobtrusive. And out of my mother’s line of sight. I thought I was safe, hiding in a corner with an older couple who told me all about their holiday plans in Costa Rica, when she found me again. Did she have me tagged with a homing beacon?
“Hello, Marie, Donald. I hope you’re enjoying the party.” She chitchatted with the older couple, then took my hand. “Do you mind if I steal Rosalyn away for a moment. There’s someone I want her to meet.”
Marie finger waved, Donald raised his glass, and my mother pulled me to her side. “How did things go with James?”
I tried to pull my hand from her grasp, but she tightened her hold. “He spent fifteen minutes telling me about his horrible ex and how angry he is about the divorce.”
“Rosalyn, a woman can make a man forget a bad marriage. If she puts her mind to it.”
“I don’t think so.”
She took a deep breath through her nose, then marched through the crowd again, tugging me behind her. In the doorway of the formal dining room, a man in his late twenties nibbled a chicken satay. Although he was attractive in a buttoned-down way, I’d always preferred the bad boys.
Except for Sullivan. Sullivan was all man.
“Tyler, I’d like you to meet Rosalyn.”
“Nice to meet you, Tyler.”
He juggled his satay and shook my hand.
“You and Tyler have something in common,” Barbara said.
“We’re both blonds, right?” I asked.
“That, we are,” he said with a smile. “But only if you’re natural.”
Oh God, please let it end.
“No,” my mother said, “you have similar jobs.” With her smile fixed, she pinned me with a look. “Tyler is a media consultant and you’re in public relations,” she said, lock-jawed. She gazed up at him. “Rosalyn works directly with customers for a small, family-owned firm.”
She hated that I was a waitress. In her eyes, I was nothing but a failure. I knew she resented me for letting her down, for not living up to my potential. I should be used to it by now, but sometimes it still got to me.
“You know,” Tyler said, “We should get together. Your company could probably benefit from a media push.”
“I’m sure we could. Do you have a card?”
As he reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet, I glared at my mother.
She glared right back. “You two enjoy the party.” She melted through the crowd.
Tyler, the media consultant, and I did small talk. Then he went in for the kill. “We should have dinner one night this week.” He pulled out his phone and checked his schedule. “Does Wednesday work for you?”
Before I could come up with an excuse, my own phone rang. “Whoops. Got to take that. It’s probably work. Busy, busy.” I slipped past him and down the hall. As I made my way to my father’s study, I dug my phone out of my purse and glanced at the screen.
“Hey, Dane. Any news about Janelle?” I shut the office door behind me, closing out the chatter and the Christmas carols as interpreted by a string quartet.
“Sorry to interrupt your evening,” he said.
I walked past my dad’s desk to the medical books lining the shelves, and let my fingers trail over the spines. “I’m at my parents’ Christmas party. Interruptions are welcome.”
“I’m afraid I have some bad news. My boss is after me to cut a deal for Janelle. It’s a slam dunk for the DA, and as far as my firm’s concerned, it’s low priority. Plus, I’m not billing her my usual fee, so the firm’s losing money.”
My hand fell to my side. “What are you saying? You’re not going to defend her?”
“I am defending her, but I only took this case as a favor to you, Rose. There’s no benefit in dragging this out. Besides, Janelle can’t afford months’ worth of legal fees.”
I felt numb. “What about the other suspects?”
“There are no other suspects.”
“Not true. Crystal Waters, Asshat’s ex-girlfriend, got into a fight with him a couple days ago. There’s a suspect.”
“Janelle had an argument with the victim thirty minutes before the police arrived and found him bleeding from a head wound. Her fingerprints are all over the weapon. There’s nothing I can do with that kind of evidence.”
“What about innocent until proven guilty? Because she’s poor, she isn’t entitled to a good defense?” He was her lawyer, he should be fixing this, not giving up. “What about a private detective or something?”
“Janelle can’t afford it and my boss is breathing down my neck to end this,” he said.
“Tell him to go to hell, Dane. There’s got to be something you can do. You can’t send an innocent woman to jail.”
“I’m not the one sending her to jail. I’m telling you, if we take this to a jury, she won’t stand a chance. A plea is her best bet.”
I stumbled to a chair and sat down. “How much time will she get?”
“If I can persuade the DA to play ball, I’m hoping for two to six years. But if he doesn’t make it…”
“She didn’t do this. She doesn’t deserve to spend two days in jail, let alone two years. And what about her kids?”
; “They’ll become wards of the state. Most likely they’ll go to a relative, but if not, they’ll be put into foster care. I’d be doing her a disservice if I didn’t try to get her a deal.”
Stunned, I gazed at a glass paperweight on my dad’s desk. Janelle was in worse trouble than I thought. If I didn’t find out who put Asshat in a coma, she wouldn’t just miss Christmas with her kids, she’d miss their childhoods.
Chapter 5
I couldn’t go back to the party. Not with Janelle sitting in a cell and Dane slacking off on the case.
Frustrated and needing to vent, I called Roxy.
“What the hell,” she said. “Dane wants her to take a plea? That’s bullshit.”
“I’m going to call Janelle’s cousin, Sondra, and see if I can stop by.”
“Right now? I thought you were at the Strickland Christmastravaganza,” she said.
“Yeah, I need to get out of here. My mom’s driving me batty.”
“Well, I want to go.”
“To the party?” I kicked my heels off and curled my toes.
“No, dumbass, to Sondra’s,” she said.
“Fine, I’ll pick you up on the way.”
Now the trick was getting out of the house without my mother finding out. And there was only one way to do that. The service entrance.
I grabbed my coat from the rack set up in the spare bedroom and snuck into the kitchen. While the caterers flowed around me, filling trays and clinking empty glasses, I slipped out the back door and trekked around the house to the car.
Roxy was waiting by the curb when I pulled up to the converted Victorian where she rented a room. She hopped in and smacked her gum. “So you survived your mom, huh?”
“Yep.” Barely.
I took Apple Tree Boulevard and headed to the poor side of town. The further south you go in Huntingford, the more run down the neighborhood, block by block, until finally, on the southern edge between Huntingford and the city of Glendale, drug related crime, and even gang shootings, weren’t uncommon.
Sondra lived somewhere between working class and the hood in a dollhouse-sized saltbox with a one-car garage. I’d never met her, but Janelle talked a lot about her. In her mid-thirties, she was small, bird-like, with dark skin and short hair.
When she answered the door, I smiled and introduced myself. “Hello. I’m Janelle’s friend, Rose. This is Roxy.”
Sondra’s gaze swept over Roxy’s cat-card-yarn ball skirt. “Yeah, she’s mentioned you. Come in.”
The house was cozy with blue furniture and an asymmetrical patterned rug. “Take a seat.”
Rox and I parked ourselves on a sofa. “How are you holding up, Sondra? How are the kids?” I asked.
She sank into a chair. “I’m fine. The kids finally fell asleep. They’re worried. Especially Damon. He knows Sheik’s in the hospital, wants to go see him. Sherise keeps asking for her mama.”
“I spoke to Janelle’s lawyer. He wants her to take a plea.”
She scoffed. “Janelle won’t go for that,” she said. “You know how stubborn she is. She’ll fight to the end.”
“What about bail money? Is there any way you can help?” I asked.
Sondra shook her head. “It’s all I can do to make ends meet. I work in a dentist’s office and it’s a good job, but my ex isn’t paying child support, either. Frankly, I don’t know how I’m going to afford two extra kids.”
I pulled the little notebook out of my purse and wrote down my number. “If you need anything, give me a call. Can you think of anyone else who would want to hurt Asshat?”
Sondra laughed. “Everybody. He owes people money, he’s a loudmouth, always struts around like some kind stud.”
“What was the attraction?” I asked. “I don’t see Janelle falling for that type of guy.”
“She wasn’t always so level-headed. And Sheik’s a handsome man. Women do stupid things over pretty men. As soon as Janelle filed for divorce, he quit his job so he wouldn’t have to pay child support.”
“How does he survive if he doesn’t have a job?” Roxy asked.
“My guess is he does some work off the books.”
“What did he do when he was on the books?” I asked.
“He worked at that muffler place off the Boulevard.”
Little footsteps padded down and hall and Sherise, dressed in a pink nighty with a picture of Dora the Explorer on the front, crept into the room and rubbed her eyes.
“Hey, Sherise, how are you?” I asked. Normally, she ran to me and wanted to play hairdresser whenever I had a study date at Janelle’s house, but tonight she looked so sad and young, it broke my heart.
“I miss my mommy.” She twisted toward Sondra and buried her head in the woman’s shoulder.
Watching her was like a knife in my chest. I couldn’t let Janelle sit in jail, I had to do something.
I glanced over at Roxy. She stared at Sherise, but her eyes were unfocused, glazed. I touched her arm. “You ready?”
She jumped a bit. “Yeah.”
I stood and waved at Sondra as she cuddled the little girl. I hadn’t found out much, but it was a start.
Roxy was silent on the drive home.
“You want to talk about it?” I asked.
“I was like her—Sherise. Alone, without a mom. But at least she has Sondra and isn’t going to a stranger.”
Roxy had been in and out of foster and group homes most of her life. I knew from the few details she’d dropped that her childhood had been rough.
“You have to find who did this, Rose. You have to get Janelle back home to her kids.”
I braked at a stoplight and glanced over at her. “I’ll do my best.”
“No, that’s not good enough. If she didn’t do this, you have to find out who did.”
I’d been thinking the same thing, but hearing it from Roxy felt overwhelming. I wasn’t an investigator, I was just a waitress who took classes on the side. “I promise I’ll try.”
She stared out the windshield. “Okay.”
It was after ten when I got back my apartment and changed into a pair of sweats. I’d just pulled my blanket and pillow from the closet when a knock sounded at the door. I glanced out the peephole at Axton. He held DVD in one hand and a pizza box in the other.
“Figured you were in need some sustenance after a round with your mom,” he said when I opened the door.
Ax was the greatest, always there when I needed him with pepperoni and bad sci-fi. I took his coat and hung it on the peg next to the door, my eyes drifting over his t-shirt that read Yoda Knows Best.
“So, how bad was it?” He set the pizza box on the stove and grabbed two plates from the cabinet by the sink.
“Bad enough. Dane called and said Janelle’s in deep shit. The evidence is stacked against her.”
He slipped two slices onto the plates and handed one to me, then licked the grease off his fingers. “That sucks royally. Are you going to help her?”
I plopped down on the futon while Axton stuck the disk in the machine. “Yeah, I am.”
“Good.” When he straightened, he gazed around my apartment. “Dude, your place is depressing.”
I shrugged. “Looks like it always does.”
“Exactly. Where’s your Christmas spirit? Where’s your tree? It’s just sad, man.”
“I have no Christmas spirit and it’s not sad, it’s normal. Maybe I’ll boycott Christmas this year. Why force it?”
He waved his plate around the room. “Because Christmas is the time to connect with the child in your soul.”
I cocked my head. “Are you high right now?”
“Make fun all you want, but Christmas rocks.”
I leaned back and crossed my legs. “Hey, want to do me a favor?”
“I live to do you favors.” He sprawled out next to me and ate half the slice of pizza in one bite.
“Asshat was throwing money around a strip club before he went to comasville. I want to know where that money came from. His real name is Sheik Johnson, by the way.”
“That’s one pimp ass name,” Ax said with a full mouth.
“Also, Chicken Licker’s real name is Crystal Waters. Maybe. Or that could be another stage name. Anyway, she works at The Bottom Dollar. Can you check her out, too? I need her address. Oh, and some guy named Freddy Libra runs the place.”
“Sweet,” he said with a full mouth. “Sounds like this project needs some real-time research.”
I laughed. “That’s my job. You do the computer mojo you do so well and I’ll question the strippers.”
“You’re harsh, man. Want me to look into the strip club while I’m at it?”
“That would be awesome, thank you.”
“I would prefer to do it with a lap dance, but…”
“You’re the best. What are we watching tonight?”
“Assignment: Outer Space. It’s Italian.”
When I walked into the kitchen the next morning, Ray glowered over his biscuit dough.
“I see Ma told you about staying open for lunch,” I said.
“Unh.”
“Maybe it won’t be so bad.”
He shrugged.
“Glad we had this conversation, Ray.”
I grabbed an apron and stepped through the swinging door. That delicious, sharp smell of coffee hit me and I poured myself a cup.
I turned and stopped cold when I saw a kid about nineteen or twenty, sitting at the counter, texting. He wore a blue hoodie, baggy jeans, and long brown bangs hid his eyes.
“Who’re you?” I asked.
He didn’t glance up from his phone.
2 Last Diner Standing Page 4
