Strand of Deception

by Robin Caroll

  In the kitchen, she dug around in cabinets until she found six vases. She filled vases with water, split the roses among them, and distributed the arrangements between the dining room, living room, bedroom, and office. She returned to find a sheepish Nick in the kitchen.

  “I really am sorry. Cross my heart.” He held open his arms.

  She smiled and stepped into his embrace. As he hugged her, she inhaled. His cologne soothed her frazzled nerves. “It’s okay.” She squeezed him back, then stepped out of his touch. “But don’t do it again.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He bowed low, then straightened. “You ready for some finger-licking-awesome ribs?”

  “You bet. Getting angry makes me hungry.” She chuckled at his feigned shocked expression.

  Within moments, she’d let him help her into her coat, set the alarm, and sat in the front seat. The sweet aroma of roses hung in the car. She smiled to herself.

  “Hey, what are you doing tomorrow night?”

  Was this a trick question? “Um, I don’t know.”

  “I do.” He hummed as his fingers tapped on the steering wheel.

  “Oh, really?” He seemed mighty cocky.

  “Yep. I do.”

  “Do tell.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Nope. You gotta guess.”

  A game? He was normally a serious type. But the roses, the silly card, and now the guessing game . . . he was showing her a totally different side to his personality. She liked it. “Dinner?”

  “Nope.”

  “Great, I’m gonna go hungry.” She chuckled.

  “Stop trying to distract me . . . you have to guess.” He merged the car onto I-40 west and picked up speed.

  “Um, a movie?”

  “No way. Too dull. I don’t like dark theaters much.”

  “I don’t either. But I love watching DVDs at home with a big bowl of popcorn.”

  “With so much butter it drips down your elbow.”

  She laughed. “Now I’m really, really hungry.”

  “You still have to guess.” He changed lanes.

  “Bowling? I hope it’s not bowling because I’m really awful at it.” She made a face.

  He flashed her a smile. “Nope, not bowling, but I’ll make note to bet you per pin.”

  She gave him a slight shove.

  “Guess again.”

  “Am I even close?”

  He shook his head. “Not even.”

  “Give me a hint.”

  “No way. You’re a smart cookie. You can figure it out.”

  “Come on, just a little hint.” She leaned closer so he could see her by the dashboard light. She pouted, pushing her bottom lip out.

  “That’s pathetic.”

  “A hint. A hint. I want a hint,” she chanted.

  He took the Second Street exit. “Better hurry. We’re almost to the restaurant.”

  “Dancing?”

  “No. I don’t dance.”

  “What do you mean you don’t dance?”

  He shrugged. “I just don’t.”

  “Everybody dances.”

  He shook his head as he took a slight left onto North Second Street. The Crowne Plaza Hotel blazed on the corner. “I don’t dance.”

  She leaned her head back against the headrest. “Well, I love to dance. I’m making a note that you have to take me dancing if I have to go bowling.”

  “Tick-tock. You’re almost out of time.” He pulled into the Rendezvous parking lot and found a vacant space, not such an easy task.

  He turned off the engine, undid his seat belt, then turned to face her. She unclicked her seat belt and faced him.

  “Okay, here’s a clue. It was my backup to the roses in case you needed more coaxing to forgive me.”

  How sweet. She snapped her fingers. “Man, I knew I should have held out for more.” But she grinned, loving this game and loving this playful side of him.

  He let out an exaggerated groan. “Fine. Maybe you’ll figure it out over dinner.” He got out of the car and rushed around to open her door for her. “I can’t wait for you to figure it out or I’ll die of starvation.”

  “Yeah, you really look like you’re starving with those muscles.” She froze as he shut the car door. Had she really just said that out loud?

  He chuckled.

  Yep, she’d said it aloud. Heat filled her cheeks. Good thing it was dark outside. And cold enough to cool her flushed face.

  They entered the restaurant. On a Friday night, the place was packed and hopping. The mix of spices and grilling welcomed them and made Maddie’s stomach growl. Not that Nick could hear it over all the people talking.

  They didn’t have to wait long. Soon, they crossed the wood plank floor and were seated in the main dining room, right under the big American flag. The red-and-white checkered tablecloth always reminded Maddie of the picnics her family used to go on.

  After they’d ordered soft drinks and both a full order of the world-famous Rendezvous charcoal-broiled pork ribs, the waiter left them alone.

  “Guess.” Nick smiled across the table at her.

  “A picnic.”

  “No, but that’s a good suggestion. We should go on one sometime.”

  Her heart pounded at the way he seemed to be making future plans with her. “I like picnics.”

  “We’ll leave the ants out of our picnic, though.”

  “Definitely.”

  “Okay, another guess.”

  “Give me another hint.”

  “You’ll love it.”

  She laughed. “So you think.”

  “I know you will. Okay, you get three questions as your hints.”

  “Goodie.” She took a sip of her drink that the server set at her elbow. “Okay, do I have to travel far to get there?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Less than an hour. That’s one.”

  “Is it indoors or out?”

  “Indoor. It’s too cold outside. That’s two.”

  “Hmmm.” She truly had drawn a blank.

  The waiter appeared with their ribs and sides. Maddie offered up grace, then took a bite. The ribs were as melt-in-your-mouth-wonderful as she remembered. She closed her eyes and chewed, savoring the flavor. “This is smack-your-momma good.” Maddie took another bite. Then another.

  They didn’t talk, just enjoyed the flavorful food cooked to perfection. Their drinks were refilled as quickly as they were depleted. And again. Soon enough, Maddie wiped her mouth and tossed the napkin onto the table. “I’m stuffed. I can’t eat another bite.”

  “Me too.” Nick tossed the last rib onto his plate. He grabbed the napkins and went to work cleaning his face.

  He looked mighty cute with barbeque sauce on his chiseled cheeks.

  After he paid the bill, they walked arm in arm across the parking lot. “You have one more question.”

  “You have me stumped for sure, Agent Hagar.” Not to eat, a movie, dancing, bowling, or a picnic . . . inside and close by.

  They reached the car, but he didn’t open the door. Instead, he placed a hand against the passenger window, one on either side of her, trapping her against the car. He leaned in, putting his mouth right beside her ear. “One. More. Question.” He pulled back, stopping when they were eye-to-eye.

  Like she could think with him this close? “Um.” She licked her lips. “Is it a concert?”

  He shifted, not releasing her, but putting a little more space between them. “Mmm-mmm.” His affirmation growl was low, guttural.

  Her heart raced. She licked her lips again. “I like concerts.”

  His gaze locked with hers. “What’s your all-time favorite Elvis Presley song?”

  “‘Amazing Grace,’ hands dow
n. Something about that song . . . and the way he sings it.” She sighed. “Reminds me of my mom.”

  His stare burned through her.

  Heat flooded her face. “Uh, which concert?”

  His fingers found their way into her hair. Gently, barely tugging, he pulled them through the length of her hair. His fingertips caressed the ends as he reached them. “The Elvis Lives, Ultimate Elvis Tribute Artist Event tour.”

  Her heart stopped. She grabbed hold of his arms. Her eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me? The Elvis Lives concert? Here? Tomorrow night?”

  He nodded.

  “That’s been sold out forever. It sold out within thirty minutes of the tickets going on sale. I know, I tried to buy them an hour after they opened.” Her heart started again . . . racing double-time. “You’re kidding, right?”

  His gaze never left hers as he shook his head.

  “You’re serious?” She couldn’t help that her voice rose like that of a schoolgirl’s.

  He nodded.

  “Oh. My. Gosh. I’m going to see the Elvis Lives concert?” She couldn’t stop her legs from bouncing.

  “We’re going to see the Elvis Lives concert. Tomorrow night. Eight o’clock. At the FedEx Forum.”

  Maddie jumped up and down, making Nick drop his arms. She threw hers around his neck, still bouncing. “I’m going to see Elvis Lives. I’m going to see Elvis Lives.” She’d wanted to see this concert for years, but it never worked out.

  “Thankyouthankyouthankyou.” She squeezed his neck harder.

  “You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome.”

  She stopped jumping and grabbed his face. Holding it between her hands, she stood on tiptoe and planted a firm kiss against his lips.

  Nick froze. Did he dare move? Dare to deepen the kiss?

  Maddie stepped back, her hands dropping to her sides. Her mouth opened, then closed. She smiled, then pinned her bottom lip with her top teeth. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” Driving him crazy? Making him realize he had some strong feelings for her? Very strong feelings.

  “I just really wanted to go to this concert and you got us tickets and I don’t know how and I’m so excited and I love Elvis and—”

  Enough.

  Nick leaned down and gently rested his lips against hers. The scent that was uniquely Maddie filled his senses. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

  She moved her lips against his.

  He froze again, not even breathing. Did she not want him to kiss her? Was he holding her too tight? Too close.

  Her hands wound around his neck again, her fingertips grazing the skin above his collar.

  His heart jackhammered.

  He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers, staring deep into her beautiful brown eyes.

  She’d done it again—made him go stupid.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “I’ve tried to lead a straight, clean life,

  not set any kind of bad example.”

  Elvis Presley

  “A moment, please, Professor?” Nick rushed to Professor Emmel’s side, walking with him to his car.

  “How did you know where to find me, Agent?”

  Nick grinned. “Wasn’t too hard to learn you belong to a writers’ critique group that meets every other Saturday morning at this bookstore.”

  “We writers can be quite predictable.”

  “I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time, please.”

  The professor glanced at his watch. “Well, I’m free until lunchtime.”

  “Great.” Nick gestured to the hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. “How about I buy you a cup of coffee?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  Nick opened the door for the older gentleman. They placed their orders at the counter, then found an open table in the corner. “How was your meeting?”

  “Very well, thank you. I’ve almost completed the manuscript I’ve been working on since summer. Soon, I’ll send queries to a round of agents.”

  Was that good? “Uh, congratulations.”

  “Thank you. It’s been a lifelong dream of mine to publish a novel. I’m very pleased with this draft and my critique group loves it.”

  The young barista delivered their coffee to the table.

  Professor Emmel took a sip. “So nice to have coffee in real ceramic mugs, unlike the big coffeehouse chains with their protective sleeves.” He set his mug back on the table. “But I’m fairly certain you didn’t hunt me down to talk about my manuscript or coffeehouses, did you, Agent Hagar?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “As I’m sure you are aware, I spoke with Ms. Mantle regarding our conversation. You didn’t advise me not to.”

  “No, I didn’t.” It had actually worked out just fine that he had. She’d lawyered up and came in on her own. “But I’m not here to discuss Ms. Mantle.”

  “Then how may I help you?”

  “Professor, the discussion we’re having now is confidential. Do you agree not to discuss anything we talk about with anyone outside of law enforcement?”

  “Certainly.”

  “This is an official investigation. Discussing details would be considered hindering an investigation.”

  “I understand, Agent.” He took another sip of his coffee.

  “Do you know Adam Alexander?” He lifted his own cup.

  “Adam?”

  “Yes. I understand he’s a fellow teacher at University of Memphis?”

  “Correct. He teaches Earth Sciences over in Johnson Hall.” The professor creased his nose like he smelled something that stank.

  “What can you tell me about him?”

  “You already know he’s a teacher. Our classrooms aren’t in the same building. We don’t exactly run in the same social circles.”

  Nick detected the harsh tone in that last sentence. “Oh?”

  “For one, Adam is much younger than I.”

  “Only by about ten years or so. That’s not much these days, Professor.”

  Emmel smiled indulgently as he took another sip of coffee. “Perhaps not, but he socializes with a much younger crowd than his own age. Much younger, if you get my drift.”

  “Are you implying he hangs out with student-aged people?”

  “Exactly. Not just that age bracket, Agent, but actual students.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. I wouldn’t say it otherwise. I’ve seen him out at restaurants with students. Always female students, to be sure.”

  Ah, a womanizer. And this was the man Maddie dated and she still took up for eleven years later? Nick couldn’t get it.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re thinking that I’m not being entirely forthcoming. Let me assure you, I am. He’s even been warned by the provost twice to mind his Ps and Qs regarding the young ladies on campus.”

  Interesting. He’d ask Helm to question the provost.

  “The last time, from what I understand, the provost told him if another complaint was filed on him at the university, he’d be reprimanded.”

  “So, this is definitely a habit of his?”

  “Did you know he used to work at the University of Tennessee?”

  Nick did. “Really?”

  “He worked at the Health Science Center campus here in Memphis.”

  “So he switched to University of Memphis?” Nick left the door wide open for Emmel.

  “Well, the way I understand it, he was asked to leave.” And the professor walked right through it. “He had gotten himself into an, ahem, delicate situation with a young lady whose father called the board of directors. He was given the choice—leave with a good letter of recommendation on his teaching abilities, or st
ay and face disciplinary actions. He came to our campus about ten years ago.”

  The professor took another hit of coffee. “It’s a disgrace, if you ask me.”

  “I think so too.” Truth be told, everything Nick learned about Alexander disgusted him. “Do you happen to know if Gina Ford was in Mr. Alexander’s class?”

  “I don’t rightly know, Agent. As I said, his classroom is in a different building than mine and I didn’t know Gina Ford.” He stood. “If you’ll excuse me for just a moment, please.” Emmel headed to the restrooms.

  Nick pulled out his cell.

  “Agent Timmons.”

  “It’s Hagar. I need you to get Gina Ford’s appointment book. I need to know if she took Adam Alexander’s Earth Sciences class.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And please ask Helm to speak to the provost of the University of Memphis regarding any disciplinary warnings or reprimands given to Mr. Alexander.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Nick hung up just as Professor Emmel returned to the table. “Excuse me.”

  “No problem. Just one more question, if you will, Professor.”

  “Yes?”

  “Have you knowledge of any instance in which Mr. Alexander exhibited violence?”

  “Not personally, no.”

  Nick leaned forward. “But you’ve heard of such instances?”

  “Purely hearsay, Agent.”

  “I understand.”

  Emmel drained his cup. He set it on the table and absently traced the lip. “Some of the faculty members get together on weekends and watch sports or play cards. At one of them, he and one of the other teachers, Mr. Doak, had an altercation. This occurred just last week.”

  “Did you hear what the altercation was about?”

  “I understand it began as a political discussion, then the debate became heated. I was told Mr. Doak gave up arguing and went to leave the gathering. To go outside, get some fresh air to cool off.” Mr. Emmel lifted his gaze to make eye contact with Nick. “But Mr. Alexander followed him outside and proceeded to hit him from behind.”

  “Was Mr. Doak hurt?”

  “He was able to throw Mr. Alexander off of him. They tussled and Mr. Doak ended up getting the better of the deal.” Emmel shrugged. “Still, Mr. Doak had to have two stitches on his temple where Mr. Alexander’s ring caught him.” He glanced at his watch, then stood. “I’m sorry, Agent Hagar. I really must keep my lunch date.” He paused as he lifted his briefcase. “By the questions you asked, I’m assuming Mr. Alexander is a suspect in Gina Ford’s murder? What about Hailey Carter’s?”