Death at First Sight

by Lena Gregory

  Bee already had the table mostly set, but he took glasses and ice out while Cass set out the food.

  “Hey.” Stephanie pulled out a chair. “Mmm . . . smells good. How long do we have?”

  “We’re good. We still have a little over an hour before we have to be at the theater.”

  Stephanie blew on a spoonful of wonton soup. “Are you allowed to run rehearsal? Did Langdon release the theater?”

  Bee loaded his plate with fried rice. “He released it and removed the crime scene tape today, so we’re allowed back in.”

  Stephanie reached for an egg roll. “Did you get in touch with any of the board members? Is anyone willing to initiate an emergency meeting?”

  Cass cringed. “No. I’m sorry. I know I said I’d call them, but I didn’t get a chance today.”

  “Can you do it tomorrow?” Stephanie grinned. “You know we try not to let Bee interact with the board members if we don’t have to.”

  Bee snorted. “One little snit with a board member, and suddenly I’m not allowed to talk to them anymore.”

  “It was more than a snit, Bee.” Stephanie laughed. “You threatened bodily harm if he walked on the stage with his cowboy boots on again.”

  Bee shrugged and laughed with her. “Yeah, but he didn’t walk on it again, did he?”

  Stephanie just shook her head.

  “Hey, in my defense, the stage had just been refinished. Besides, Cass got into a fight with Marge, and she’s still allowed to talk to them.”

  Cass looked over at Bee, fully expecting to find him pouting, but a flash of humor lit his eyes.

  “No. Marge told Cass off. Cass was smart enough to keep her mouth shut.” Stephanie filled her glass. “So, anyway . . .” She glared at Bee before turning her attention to Cass. “Why didn’t you get to call today? The shop’s not usually that busy on Mondays.”

  Cass’s mind flashed to Luke. Heat flared, but she kept his visit to herself. Cass told Stephanie about the trip to Emmett’s, Marge’s twice-weekly visits to the Bay Side Hotel, and the large bag she’d seen Jay toss into his truck. She skipped over the fact that she’d followed him, knowing it would only earn her a lecture. When Bee opened his mouth to rat her out, she pinned him with a death stare.

  “Do you really think it was a body in the bag?” Stephanie sat back and studied Cass.

  Cass shook her head. “I don’t know what to think. It was long, and he had it slung over his shoulder. It’s not like there were feet hanging out the bottom or anything, but it seemed like the right shape and size.”

  The rumble of a car on the gravel driveway interrupted them.

  “Is that Tank?” Bee frowned and looked over his shoulder toward the back door.

  “I don’t know. He was supposed to work tonight, and I told him you guys were bringing dinner.” Stephanie glanced pointedly at Bee.

  Bee and Tank tended to avoid each other whenever possible.

  Cass shrugged. “Maybe he’s hungry.”

  “I guess.”

  Tank walked in and wiped his feet on the mat. Then he pinned Cass with a look that had her halting her fork halfway to her mouth. “What?”

  “We need to talk.” He pulled a plate from the cabinet and sat at the table with them, but he didn’t reach for any food. Instead, he clasped his hands together and rested them on the table.

  “About what?” She lowered the forkful of chicken chow mein to her plate, suddenly not as hungry as she’d been. “Is something wrong?”

  “Look, Cass. I’m really not supposed to tell you anything about the investigation.” He sat back and rubbed a hand over his closely buzzed hair.

  “Well, then, why bring it up?” Bee lifted a brow, the challenge evident in his tone.

  “I’ll get to you later, Bryan.”

  Bee snorted and rolled his eyes.

  Tank stared hard at Bee. “Maxwell, is it?”

  Bee’s eyes halted mid-roll, and all the sarcasm quickly fled his expression. His face paled. He sat back, crossed his arms over his chest, and held Tank’s gaze. But he didn’t say another word, and his eyes lit with fear.

  Tank turned back to Cass. “This conversation has to stay between us, but I would like to ask you some questions.”

  She nodded, never taking her gaze from his.

  “Chief Langdon seems to be really stuck on fresh coffee stains on the front stoop of the theater.”

  Cass frowned.

  “Can you explain how they got there?”

  “Hey, shouldn’t she have a lawyer or something?” Bee shoved his chair back and stood.

  Tank stood as well, the two of them facing off, chests puffed. Bee’s cocked hip sort of ruined the tough guy look he seemed to be aiming for.

  “That’s enough.” Stephanie jumped to her feet. “Both of you.”

  Bee pouted, and Tank’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline, shock widening his eyes.

  “I can’t take you two fighting anymore. I don’t understand what the problem is between you two, but get over it. I’m sick of listening to you bicker. Cass might be in real trouble here. We’re going to have to work together to help her.”

  Bee shrugged and spoke quietly. “I don’t really have a problem with Tank.” He glanced at the other man, then quickly looked away. “I just always got the impression he doesn’t like me. Sorry, Steph.”

  Both women stared at Tank. Waited.

  “I’ll reserve judgment until after I find out how Butch Hawkins became Bryan Maxwell.”

  Cass sucked in a breath. Hawkins? As in Marge Hawkins?

  Bee’s eyes widened, then he flopped back onto the chair and sulked.

  “Is that true, Bee?” Stephanie asked.

  Bee clamped his mouth closed defiantly.

  “Don’t worry, we’ll get to that soon enough.” Tank sat, pushed his empty dish aside, and resumed his interrogation pose. He focused his attention on Cass. “Do you know how the coffee got spilled on the stoop?”

  Cass shrugged. Her mouth went dry.

  “This isn’t an official interview or anything. I’m just trying to figure out what happened so I can try to help you. I suggested to Chief Langdon that he ask you, but he seems more interested in building a case against you than actually trying to find out what happened.” Tank’s eyebrows drew together. “Is there a history between you two I don’t know about or something?”

  Cass worked to pull herself together. This was Tank. They were friends. There was no way he’d do anything to hurt her. “I don’t know what his problem is. He and my dad were friends. He was always a bit stern, but I don’t remember him being like this.” She had been gone a long time, though. Had something happened between Chief Langdon and her father?

  Tank shook his head. “Anyway, tell me what happened the day you found Marge.”

  She blew out a breath, flipping her hair out of her face, and sat back. “I spilled coffee on the way into the theater. It was no big deal. My hands were full and I dropped the cup when I tried to unlock the door.”

  Tank rubbed his hands over his face and sat back. He crossed his arms over his chest and seemed to relax a little. “Did you have any sort of altercation with Marge?”

  “No . . . Well, not that day, anyway. I had a run-in with her the day before at the deli over doing a reading for Ellie. But it wasn’t anything that hadn’t happened before.” She weaved her hands into her hair and squeezed. “I don’t understand what the big deal is.”

  “Do you have any idea why she might have had a Mystical Musings business card in her hand when she died?”

  Fear clutched Cass’s throat. She shook her head.

  Tank didn’t say a word.

  Cass began to wonder if he was going to say anything else when he sighed and sat forward.

  “Langdon has it in his head that you and Marge struggled on the front
steps of the theater. Marge has a bruise on her right cheekbone. He thinks you put it there. Obviously you dropped your coffee when the fight started. I have no idea what he thinks she was doing with your card—maybe sending a postmortem message that you killed her?” He caught her gaze and held it. “The fact that your fingerprints were found all over Marge’s house didn’t help matters any.”

  Uh-oh . . .

  Tank clenched his teeth, then worked to relax his jaw. “Can you explain that?”

  Cass winced. “Sort of?”

  “Make sure you can do better than that.”

  She nodded. Ellie had already said she’d tell everyone she gave the dog to Cass. Oh no . . . the dog. She’d forgotten all about it. One glance at Tank’s rock-hard expression told her she was not going anywhere. A glimpse at the clock told her she wouldn’t have time anyway.

  “We really have to get going, Tank, or we’re going to be late for rehearsal.” Stephanie stood and started clearing the dishes. “Do you want me to leave the food out?”

  “Yeah. I’ll put it away after I eat something.” Tank turned his attention to Bee, and Cass jumped up to help Stephanie, relieved to be off the hook. For the moment, anyway.

  “Look, Bee.” Tank paused and studied the other man, distrust lining his face. “No one else knows about this but me, and I only found out right before I came home. I’ll wait until after rehearsal, but I want an explanation tonight. If I don’t get one, I’ll take you to the station and get it there. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt because you’re friends with Stephanie, but that only goes so far. Understood?”

  Bee swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded.

  * * *

  “See, Bee, I told you everything would come together. The models looked much better tonight.” Cass pushed the front door of Mystical Musings open and flipped on the light.

  He shrugged. “Yeah, but what does it matter if I can’t have the show as scheduled?”

  Bee had been unusually quiet since leaving Stephanie’s house. Any attempts by Cass or Stephanie to find out what Tank was talking about had been met with moody silence. His heart had definitely not been in the rehearsal.

  Could Tank be right? Could he really be related to Marge Hawkins?

  “We could do away with Marge. The world would be a better place without that woman, anyway.” Bee’s words after he read the letter from the board haunted Cass’s thoughts, allowing doubt to creep into her certainty that Bee was innocent. Could he have really meant it?

  “Cass?”

  She shook off her unease. “Sorry, Bee. What did you say?”

  “Would it be too much trouble to pay attention here?” Bee stood with one hand on his hip, anger etched into every line of his face.

  She opened her mouth, intent on a witty retort, but snapped it shut just as quickly. His face might be lined with anger, but his eyes were drowning in worry. “Sorry.”

  He turned away and headed for the door. “I’ll be at Dreamweaver if you need me.”

  Dang. Now his feelings are hurt. Could someone that sensitive really be a killer? In her experience, Bee tended to sulk when he was upset. Had Marge hurt his feelings enough to make him snap? Well, if anyone could push someone that far, Marge could.

  Cass sighed. “Don’t go, Bee. I’m sorry. I’m just a little preoccupied. I have to put these orders together for tomorrow.” She pulled out three baskets and started sorting through a variety of scented candles and stones. “Would you grab the order slips from behind the register, please, and tell me what else I need?” She separated the stones she needed into small piles, started on the basket for Tim, then glanced toward Bee.

  He stood behind the register with the forms spread out in front of him, his hands resting on the counter. His concentration was fully focused on the pages . . . or on some demon in his mind.

  She rolled the black tourmaline around in her hand, the warmth and movement bringing comfort, then moved to stand next to him and nudged him with her elbow.

  “Yeah?” He didn’t even bother to look up.

  She studied his profile. He was a good-looking guy, with a strong jaw, high, almost feminine, cheekbones, but otherwise masculine features. “You okay?”

  He huffed out a breath and squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He stayed that way for a minute.

  “What’s going on with you?”

  He shook his head. “Let’s just get these orders together, drop off the dresses at Dreamweaver, and we’ll talk after.” He waited a beat, his eyes pleading with her to drop it. “Okay?”

  Cass studied him another moment. Was he guilty of something? Well . . . something was obviously on his mind. But, having a secret didn’t necessarily make you guilty. “Sure.”

  The smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks.”

  “Give me your hand.”

  She couldn’t help laughing at his warily lifted brow. “What’s the matter—don’t you trust me?”

  He blew out a breath and held out his hand, palm down.

  She gently turned his hand over and placed the black tourmaline in the center of his palm, then closed his fingers over the stone and held his hand in both of hers. “I know you don’t really believe in any of my hocus-pocus.” She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe some of it’s true and maybe not, but people really seem to think these help. This stone is supposed to help protect you against negative energy.”

  His gaze remained on their joined hands.

  “Keep it with you.” She grinned. “It can’t hurt.”

  He lifted his gaze to hers, and tears shimmered in his brown eyes. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”

  “Whatever’s going on with you, Bee, I’m your friend. If you need help or need someone to talk to, I’m here.” She patted his hand, then returned to her orders, leaving him to ponder whatever was tormenting him.

  Chimes sounded. “Hey, guys. Sorry I’m late. I stopped for caffeine.” Stephanie grinned and held up a cup holder with three large sodas. She placed them on the table beside Cass and nodded toward Bee. “Is he all right?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Do you think his name really is Butch Hawkins?” Stephanie studied him from the corner of her eye as she whispered.

  Cass stared openly. Why would he change his name? Had he changed it? Was Bryan Maxwell an alias?

  Bee walked over, moved a few things aside, and slid onto the counter to sit behind them. “Psst.” He tapped Stephanie’s shoulder and stage-whispered, “He’s fine.”

  Stephanie feigned shock, pressing a hand to her chest and batting her eyelashes.

  “Don’t you bat those lashes at me, toots.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then Cass’s. “Thank you for worrying about me. I really am okay.” He smiled and lifted his gaze to the door as the chimes sounded. “Mmm . . . Looks like this night is finally looking up.” Bee grinned, leaned back on his hands, and crossed one leg over the other.

  Cass turned around to see what he was drooling over.

  Her heart stuttered to a stop.

  What’s he doing here? Cass stared, mouth hanging open.

  Luke Morgan walked toward them, his cocky grin firmly in place. “Don’t stop on my account.”

  “Not at all, dear. We were just hanging around while Cass puts an order together.” Bee gestured dismissively toward Cass, hopped down from the counter, and moved forward to greet Luke. He extended a hand, and Luke gripped it and shook. “I’m Bee Maxwell.”

  “Good to meet you, Bee. Luke Morgan. I was actually looking for you. I stopped by the theater, but you’d already left.” Luke stepped back and glanced past Bee at Cass. “I’m taking Ms. Harper’s place on the board, and I thought I’d stop by, introduce myself, and say hello.”

  Bee harrumphed and leaned toward Cass. “Unless there’s another sexy, southern str
anger in town, I gather you two have already met.”

  Cass glanced at him only briefly before returning her full attention to Luke. “You didn’t tell me you were on the board of directors.”

  “I didn’t tell you a lot of things.” Luke waggled his eyebrows. “You were going to do a reading and tell me. Remember?”

  Cass clasped her hands together to keep from fanning herself. She wished she could say the same for Bee.

  Luke’s grin widened. At least he seemed to take it all in stride.

  Stephanie intervened. “The board must be disorganized with Marge gone.”

  Luke shrugged. “It does seem a bit . . . chaotic. I thought maybe y’all could tell me a little about what’s goin’ on.” He increased the laid-back, southern drawl, turned to lean against the counter, and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  Smooth and sweet as melted chocolate. What is he up to? “What do you mean, going on?” Cass asked.

  Luke pushed himself up to sit on the counter. “One of the other board members, Marti Symms, said there’s a problem with the date for the fashion show. She said there was a conflict because the play was scheduled for the same day.”

  Stephanie gestured from just out of his line of sight.

  Huh? Oh, right. “Umm . . . Since you brought it up, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?” Cass peered at him from beneath her lashes and caught Bee’s eye-roll in her peripheral vision.

  “Really. And what’s that?” Luke looked thoroughly amused, and she gave up on flirting. She simply wasn’t good at it.

  Bee opened his mouth to say something, but she stopped him with a glare.

  She dug through her bag, pulled out the letter Bee had given her, and handed it to Luke. “Chief Langdon said the board would consider rescheduling the play instead if we could get a member to call an emergency board meeting.” Well . . . maybe that’s not exactly what he said, but it was something along those lines. Sort of.

  Luke studied the paper for another minute, raked a hand through his hair, and smiled. “Why not?” He shrugged a broad shoulder and handed her the letter.

  “You mean you’ll do it?” Excitement coursed through Cass, in addition to the thrill Luke caused when he brushed her hand with his.