by Leslie Caine
“Really not a good time for me to chat with my mother,” Steve grumbled, “with all that’s going on.”
“True.”
Was Bea right? Should we cancel the wedding and elope? Would that help Steve?
Frustrated, I stared out the window and watched the familiar scenery pass. Things seemed to be falling apart all around me. After repeating my confidence-and-optimism mantra a couple of times, I dialed Linda’s cell phone. She answered. We exchanged some chitchat, then I told her about Fitz’s brother’s pointed hostility toward me.
“I just heard about that myself a few minutes ago,” Linda replied. “One of O’Reilly’s subordinates called from the memorial service, and I overheard his side of the conversation. Did the older Parker brother all but point a finger at you?”
“Yes. It made me want to fall through the floor. Do you have any idea what’s going on with him?”
“I’ve got a pretty good idea, yeah. But I’m not at liberty to tell you. O’Reilly likes to keep a lid on everything. Including misunderstandings among a victim’s family members. Such as the powerful emotions that can arise during misinterpretations of email exchanges. That type of thing.”
“In other words, Fitz sent an email to his brother about me that was derogatory?”
“I can see how you might come to that conclusion, all on your own,” Linda said. “Especially when you consider what you had already observed about the victim’s personality and how he treated women.”
“Meaning that he treated us all like sexual objects?”
“Yes. That would be a good observation of yours.”
Linda was obviously trying hard not to disobey some directive that Detective O’Reilly had made about sharing evidence with me. “So, I gather that Fitz exaggerated his sexual conquests to his brother?” I was getting steamed in spite of myself. The man was dead. It was not as if I could take him to task for lying about me. “And he lied and claimed we had more going on between us than the strictly business relationship we actually had?”
“What the hell?” Steve said under his breath, obviously getting angry along with me at Fitz.
“If Fitz told his brother something like that,” Linda said, “it could certainly lead to erroneous conclusions about your relationship with him.”
“Yeah. It sure could.” My mind was filled with possible slanderous things he could have said, that he’d been fighting off my advances; that he was such a wonderful lover that I was now crazy jealous of him. “Thanks, Linda.”
“Other than the horrible awkwardness at the memorial service, is everything all right?” Linda asked.
I looked at Steve. “Fitz was an A-one jerk,” he said. I patted his knee, and left my hand there.
“I guess so,” I replied to Linda. “Memorial services are never cheery for anyone. But Audrey’s being a dear and volunteered to take over for Fitz as my planner.” I gave Steve’s knee a squeeze and, once again, found myself smiling in spite of myself. “And I have a wedding to my fabulous love of my life coming up next Saturday.”
“Yes, you do,” Linda said. “Things are going to improve rapidly from here on. I absolutely can’t wait to see you walk down that aisle.”
“Neither can I.”
Linda and I said our goodbyes, and I hung up.
Steve’s face still looked anything but happy. I couldn’t help but wonder what his take had been on Aunt Bea’s directive that we elope. “Are you souring on the idea of the wedding ceremony?” I asked.
“Not really.” He sighed. “Maybe a little. Between our planner getting poisoned and Michelle getting beaten…. We certainly seem more than a little snake bit.”
“True. But that’s kind of our story. How we met in the first place. Our careers have been pockmarked by homicides and homicidal clients. Why should our wedding be any different?”
Chuckling, he said, “Good point. Plus, we would upset a lot of other people’s plans if we canceled our wedding and eloped.”
“True. It would be too late for the venue and vendors to reschedule. They’d lose money. And so many people are flying in.” I had to swallow a lump in my throat. This was supposed to be the wedding of our dreams. Was it too much to ask that we could get married and not have anyone involved with the ceremony be killed?
After a couple of minutes of silence, I asked, “Do you need my help at the Parsley and Sage?”
“No. You’re on vacation this week. Remember? Besides, it’s all under control.”
“I meant to tell you…I met with Lucas there, at the Parsley and Sage, yesterday. It’s wonderful. I loved it, Steve. The space is looking really sharp. Cutting-edge sharp.”
“Thanks. Drew’s pleased.”
“Where did he get the money to keep moving forward like this?”
“I don’t know. He said he cashed in on an old debt.”
“That’s…fortunate,” I said, thinking how dubious it sounded.
“Fortunate is one way to describe it,” Steve muttered. “It’s a little sketchy.”
He was giving me an opening! “Drew is obviously a truly great friend of yours, Steve. I can see why you care so much about him. And I’m glad he’s the best man in our wedding. I really am. But I’m worried about him.”
“So am I,” Steve muttered. “He’s developed some new and bothersome behavioral habits. I hate when he widens his eyes and tilts his head back, with this little smile on his face. He seems to be…high. It’s like he’s someplace else. Listening to his own music.”
“Was he acting that way this morning?”
“A little,” Steve said, his brow furrowed. Clearly he was worried about his best-friend’s well-being, in addition to his sister’s.
My thoughts raced. Maybe Drew truly was going to confront Mark. And maybe he was currently all revved up on cocaine. “Steve? The more I think about it, the more I wish we’d made absolutely sure that Drew wasn’t on his way to Mark’s house.”
After a brief hesitation, Steve said, “Me, too.”
“I think I’ll call Drew and get him to come back to Crestview.”
I dialed. The message kicked on. “No answer,” I told Steve as I listened to Drew’s message. “Drew, hi, it’s Erin. Call Steve or me as soon as you get a moment. Okay? We’re worried. Thanks.” I hung up.
Neither of us spoke. The tension in the silence was palpable. “He’s probably in a noisy bar right now and couldn’t hear his phone,” Steve finally said. “Or should I turn around?”
“We’re almost in Crestview. And we don’t even know where he is. Let’s just head to the office. You can call Michelle. Or do you think I should call her right now?”
“I don’t know.” Steve groaned. “Damn it! I had no idea she was pregnant. And now that I know what Mark’s like…. If we get the police out there, I keep picturing her in a knock-down, drag-out with Mark the instant they leave. But…yeah, I want to call her myself. I’d kind of like to be alone when I talk to her. But maybe you should—” He pounded the steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “I wish we’d talked to my parents at the service. They live right nearby. Maybe I should drop you off and turn around.”
I hated the idea of letting Steve head to his sister’s house alone into a horrible domestic situation. “Michelle asked us to stay away. And Drew was lucid and told us that he wasn’t going to their house. We shouldn’t barge in where we’re not needed.”
Steve said nothing.
Was I being sensible, or cowardly? Was I using sound judgment, or selfishly protecting my own interests by not getting involved?
All I knew for certain was that I was frightened. If I kept thinking about Drew, Mark, and Michelle, I was going to get physically ill.
Chapter 18
Fifteen minutes or so later, I was waiting anxiously in our office for Steve to return. Having wanted privacy, he’d remained by the car on the phone, while I’d entered our office alone. I pulled out a file of table maps for the reception, as well as itineraries and everyone’s arrival schedules th
at Audrey had asked me to review. I couldn’t concentrate.
Steve was opening the door. I breathed a sigh of relief when he smiled at me.
“Michelle says everything’s fine,” he told me. “No sign of Drew. Unless he got there just now. She’s out buying groceries with Zoey. She obviously couldn’t talk with her daughter right there.”
“Well, good, but…where’s Drew? Did you call him?”
“He’s still not answering. But he makes friends easily. He’s probably chatting up some bartender in Denver, getting the goods on how to draw in customers.”
“Is ignoring his cellphone unusual for him?”
“Only when he’s on a date. Could have bumped into a female bartender. Or restaurant manager. Regardless, there’s not a whole lot I can do, ‘til he calls me. Michelle and Zoey are obviously safe for now. It feels like cooler heads have prevailed.”
Thank God. Drew would turn up soon enough, probably with a woman on his arm. Hopefully sober.
Steve gave me a quick kiss, obviously even more relieved than I was. “How’s the paperwork going?” he asked.
“I haven’t really started. Mostly I’m just happy to do busywork because I want to avoid going to Audrey’s. She wants to go over the wedding plans with me item by item, and I’m not up for it just yet.”
“I’m the groom. I can split the workload with you.”
“That’s sweet of you to offer.”
“Where do you want me to start?” he asked. “Table assignments at the wedding? I actually had a good idea for that. We could seat everyone alphabetically so that nobody takes their assignment personally.”
“Including us?”
“Sure.” He grinned. “Why not?”
“So I’ll sit with my dad and half-sister, whom I barely know, along with the other Fs, Gs, and Hs, while you sit with the Sullivans?”
He laughed. “It’s a sacrifice, but it’s both practical and equalitarian.”
“Hmm. You’ve taught me something just now, darling. This is why brides do all the wedding planning.”
Steve laughed again.
“Let’s split the office duties instead of wedding tasks, all right?” I suggested.
“Sure thing.”
We delved into some of our accounts that we’d allowed to lapse this last month. It was so nice to be talking about clients and assignments rather than Drew and his restaurant. Also wonderful was that, freed from his guy-pal persona with Drew, Steve was his usual charming, considerate self again. We balanced our budget in less than an hour, and moved onto the happy topic of prospective contracts when we returned from our honeymoon the end of the month.
The door flew open suddenly. Mark barged inside. His furious glare went from me to Steve and back. He stood arms akimbo, the door reverberating behind him. “Sullivan,” he growled, “I need your help. Now.”
“Why?” Steve asked.
“Your so-called best man is in the back of my car. He passed out on my front porch. He’s drunk as a skunk.”
“How?” Steve asked. “He told me he didn’t even know your address. And that if he had, he’d have gone over there to ask you how the hell Michelle got a black eye.”
“I don’t know how he got there, but he did. And Michelle warned me about how you and Drew wrongly accused me this morning! My wife tripped and fell down the stairs!”
“I’ve heard the way you yell at her. She had a nasty shiner. What else am I supposed to think?”
“That she lost her balance and fell! Just like she told you!”
“I don’t believe her. Or you,” Steve growled.
“Fine. Don’t. But I still need your help getting Drew-boy out of my back seat. He passed out on my front porch.”
“Is his car still in your driveway?” Steve asked.
“I don’t know where the hell his car is. He tried to take a swing at me, and fell on his face. I tried to tell him the truth. That she fell. Drew refused to listen to me…or to leave till he talked to her. So I locked the door, and went about my business. I assumed he’d left. But I checked a while later, and he’d passed out. Apparently just being sloshed out of his gourd wasn’t enough for his standards. He shot himself up with drugs, as well. I found the needle on the porch.”
Steve cursed. His expression quickly changed to panic. “Where’s your car?” Steve cried. He shoved Mark out of the way.
“Hang a left,” Mark called as the door was shutting behind Steve. “It’s the silver Mercedes.”
“Are you sure he gave himself an injection?” I asked as I brushed past Mark to head outside.
“Like I said. There was an empty syringe on the porch. I doubt it was a measles vaccine.”
Steve had opened the backseat door of Mark’s car and was already ministering to Drew. “He’s not breathing! Erin, call nine-one-one!”
“My cell phone is—”
“Use mine,” Mark said. Still a step or two behind me on the sidewalk, he made the call then handed me the phone.
“We’ve got to get him out where there’s more room,” Steve said. “He overdosed! Why the hell didn’t you call nine-one-one when you found him?” he hollered at Mark.
The dispatcher answered while Steve and Mark dragged Drew’s lifeless body out of the car. I had to cover my ear while Mark and Steve yelled at each other.
“We need medical help at Ninth and Opal in Crestview,” I said into my phone. “A friend, Drew Benton, stopped breathing after maybe drinking, and possibly shooting up with a drug. Back when he was in Denver. The owner of the house where Drew was found unconscious drove him to our office.”
As I spoke, they laid Drew flat on the sidewalk. His face was pasty. I had to look away. “Two men are administering CPR now…the man who drove Drew up here to us, along with my fiancé.”
“EMTs are on their way,” the female dispatcher told me. “How long has he been unconscious?”
“Mark.” I held the phone near his mouth; he was giving Drew chest compressions. “How long has he been out?”
“A minute?” Mark answered. “He was still breathing when I got out of the car. I thought he’d just passed out again.”
“Did you hear that?” I asked into the phone. Feeling woozy, I leaned against the car. My heart was racing. I couldn’t believe any of this was really happening. “I shouldn’t have interrupted. They’re trying to keep him alive.”
“Tell me your name,” she instructed.
I answered and gave her Drew’s name again, along with Mark’s and Steve’s. The minutes dragged by despite the dispatcher making a point of keeping me talking. Steve was looking grim yet determined to keep up the CPR.
I felt too numb and hopeless for any relief to register when the paramedics arrived. I clung to Steve’s chest as we both tried not to cry. They took Drew away, continuing the resuscitation, which I doubt any of us believed was helping. A police car with two officers had arrived just seconds after and was directing traffic and trying to encourage the dozen or so pedestrians that had collected to be on their way.
“He probably choked on his own vomit,” Mark said to me. “It’s not like this is my fault. I had no way to know that he was this far gone.”
Every muscle in Steve’s body seemed to tighten. “If you know what’s good for you, shut up,” Steve growled. “Don’t say another word.” I pulled away from Steve and tried to position myself between him and Mark.
“Is there a problem here?” the closest officer said, striding purposefully toward us.
“No, officer,” Mark replied, just as Steve was saying, “Yes.”
“We have reason to suspect that this man beat up my sister Michelle. He’s her husband,” Steve continued.
“Steve—” I said, hoping something I could say would help keep him from losing his temper.
“What?!” Mark cried, simultaneously. “That is not the case, officer. I did not beat my wife! I was fast asleep last night. I awoke to a bang…a thud coming from the stairway. And my wife cussing and crying that she’d sma
cked into the banister.” He pulled out his cellphone. “I’ll call her right now. You can ask her yourself.”
True to his word, Mark pressed the couple of buttons and handed the phone to the officer. A few moments later, the officer was saying into the phone, “Mrs. Dunning? This is Officer Kirkwood. I’m with your husband in Crestview.”
There was a pause as Michelle spoke. I hated seeing Steve in such pain, and didn’t know what to do to help. I felt like curling myself into a ball, right where I stood on the sidewalk.
“No, he’s fine,” the officer said to Michelle’s question. “He had a passenger in his car who had to be taken to the emergency room.” He paused and said, “Yes, that’s right. All I can tell you at this time is that he needs emergency treatment. But I need you to tell me how you sustained facial bruises yesterday.”
“Let me talk to my sister,” Steve said.
The officer was covering his free ear and turned away from Steve. After saying “I see,” three times, he said, “No, that will suffice. Thank you, Ms. Dunning.” He handed the phone back to Mark.
“Are you and Zoey okay?” Mark promptly asked his wife.
“She’s simply protecting her husband,” Steve declared. “She doesn’t want him to get thrown in jail.”
“I haven’t done a single thing wrong!” Mark shouted at Steve, while hanging up on his wife.
“You found an empty syringe next to Drew and you didn’t call for help!” Steve shouted back. “How do we know it was Drew’s and not yours? That you didn’t shoot him full of poison?!”
The officer, I realized, pressed a button on his handheld radio that I suspected was recording this conversation. He said nothing to stop the argument between Mark and Steve.
Mark faced the officer. “I don’t know what was in the syringe, but Drew brought it and used it on himself. He was already drunk when he knocked on the door. It was another ten or fifteen minutes ‘til I went out again and found him asleep and drugged out. He’d crashed on the Adirondack chair in the far corner of the front porch. But I shook him and he woke right up. Said he wanted to go back to Crestview. So I drove him.”
