Young Ladies of Mystery Boxed Set

by Stacy Juba

  "Everyone's a suspect," Kris said. "Even Mr. T."

  Chapter Fifteen

  25 Years Ago Today

  Joseph Sannicandro is elected chairman of the Fremont Industrial Development Commission, replacing Gus Allen, who resigned after many years of service.

  Kris moved down the buffet line in Holly’s dining room, filling her plate with assorted salads, chicken wings, lasagna, stuffed mushroom caps and cold cuts. Gold-leafed platters covered a Victorian rose damask tablecloth and white pillar candles flickered in brass wall sconces. Kris had to admit, her sister knew how to entertain. Unfortunately, Kris had nothing in common with this crowd.

  Holly and R.J. had invited a dozen friends, mostly doctors. They'd assigned Dennis, a tall dark-haired emergency room physician, as Kris's date. Her brother-in-law had jump-started the conversation, then excused himself. She glimpsed R.J. in the kitchen, a head shorter than everyone else, baseball cap tucked around his ears.

  Dennis plucked a Chinese chicken wing out of a serving bowl with a pair of crystal tongs. "Your mother's brilliant. I did a rotation with her, and she taught me a lot. She's tough, but fair."

  "Fair?" Kris asked. "You're sure it was my mother?"

  He blinked.

  "I'm kidding," she said.

  "Oh." Dennis laughed uncertainly.

  He was nice, but not her type. He wasn't Eric Soares.

  Kris followed Dennis toward the plush white sofa. Eric would be on stage tonight. She'd bet he looked sexy up there. She could have been his date, seen a different side of him. They would've talked after the show, maybe gone somewhere private and shared another kiss. Warmth cascaded through her body.

  The hell with it. She'd been stupid to turn down his invitation. It wasn't too late to make an appearance. Besides, Eric was an important source on Diana. She couldn't alienate the guy.

  Yeah, that's the reason, Kris told herself wryly.

  Itching to escape, Kris met Dennis’ coworkers and tuned out a slew of ER horror stories. Holly, elegant in a strapless black cocktail dress, cocked a thumbs-up from the kitchen. After dessert, two couples left to relieve their babysitters. Glory Hallelujah. Now Kris could break away, too. Snow swirled outside the window, lashing through the trees. She said goodbye to Dennis and then cornered her sister near the pastries.

  "Don't go yet, I've hardly seen you." Yawning, Holly covered her mouth.

  Kris patted her sister's hand. "You did great, Hol. Everything was delicious, but I do need to go. You'd better hope everyone else leaves, too, so you can get to bed."

  "How do you like Dennis?"

  "He's nice, but I'm interested in someone else."

  Holly peered into the dining room, suddenly wide awake. "Who?"

  "Not here. I met him through the paper. His band's performing tonight at a club, and I want to hear him." Kris didn't mention that he was Diana Ferguson's nephew.

  "Band? Like a rock group? Isn't that a little juvenile?" Her sister wrinkled her nose.

  "It's a hobby. He's a high school music teacher."

  "Seriously?"

  Her irritation mounting, Kris folded a scarf around her neck. "What's wrong with that?"

  "Nothing," Holly said quickly. "It's just ... well, Dennis is so successful. Mom would say that you haven’t even given him a chance."

  "I don’t care what Mom would say. Eric’s students are lucky to have him sharing his passion for music. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Holly? Choosing a career that's right for you? Making your own decisions and standing up for yourself? Maybe you ought to judge yourself for once." Kris strode to the door, leaving her sister staring open-mouthed.

  ***

  Forty minutes later, Kris stepped into Xaviers. Snow had blurred her windshield and slicked the roads, doubling her drive. For once, she had traveled well below the speed limit.

  People packed the dance floor, swaying under a silver spinning disco ball with rainbow colors shooting out in electric patterns. Recorded music throbbed from speakers. Wisps of cigarette smoke clouded the air, stinging her eyes. Kris didn't see the band, but wires and microphones crisscrossed the vacant stage. She stood on her tiptoes, hunting for Eric or an empty table. She jostled up front and squeezed against the wall.

  Kris ordered a beer from a redheaded waitress in a short skirt. She opened her purse.

  "It's been taken care of," the waitress said.

  She followed the woman's pointing finger. Eric elbowed through the crowd in a dark tee-shirt and jeans. His gaze centered on the lacy black sweater that skimmed just below her belly button. Beneath it, a sleeveless ebony silk top showed through the stitching. Kris hoped the dim light hid her burning cheeks. It was one of her sexiest blouses. She’d been underdressed at Holly’s house, but fit in perfectly here. Deep down, she must've known she would visit Eric.

  "Hey, great to see you," Eric said. "Is the party over?"

  "Everyone went home because of the snow," she said.

  "Did it ever cross your mind that you should do the same? It's supposed to get icy."

  "It wasn't that bad out. I'm a big girl."

  "Come on, we're about to start the last set, but you can sit over here." Eric steered her toward the opposite side of the room. His group had pushed together two tables, strewn with empty soda glasses and beer bottles. His friends headed toward the stage, except for a big beefy guy with a dangling lightning bolt earring.

  Eric clapped him on the back. "This is Paul. His wife, Laura, is in the band. Don't talk her ear off, Paulie."

  Paul winked. "Who, me?"

  "Watch out for him, Kris. I'll talk to you after."

  The five-member band opened with a hard rock song, catchy enough for the radio. Kris found herself tapping her foot under the table. Paul checked her out from head to toe. She couldn't read his expression behind his coke bottle glasses and scraggly black beard.

  "What?" she asked.

  "So you're the famous Kris. I've heard a lot about you."

  "Famous? What have you heard?"

  "Let's just say you made Eric's night by coming here," Paul said with a grin.

  "Oh, yeah?" Covering her pleasure, Kris groped for a witty response without luck.

  "Okay, I'll quit embarrassing you. Eric tells me you're investigating his aunt's murder."

  She nodded, surprised. "That’s right."

  "Eric and I grew up together. We're pretty close."

  "Have you always known about Diana?"

  "Not till I was around twelve. Eric's mom never talked about her, so he didn't either. It explained a lot, though."

  "Like what?"

  "Like why his grandmother was so protective," Paul said. "She panicked if we even walked to school alone."

  "How did you hear about Diana?" Kris asked.

  He reached into his pocket for a lighter and struck a cigarette. "Eric and I went through a detective phase when we were kids. He wanted to solve the case, but his mom got upset that he was treating it like a game. She heard us talking and tore into him. I got out of there fast, man. She's a great lady, but Eric inherited his temper from her."

  Why hadn't Eric mentioned his interest in Diana? He leaned over the keyboard, his long fingers scrambling down the ivories. His playing reverberated with confidence and skill. Paul's wife, an attractive blonde in a leather jacket and skintight jeans, performed lead vocals in a strong sultry voice.

  "For some reason, I assumed Eric would be the lead singer," Kris said.

  Paul chuckled. "Eric? Forget it. Take away the keyboard and he freezes."

  "He has stage fright? You're kidding."

  "Don't tell him I told you. He wrote their original songs, though, including this one. He's got real talent."

  "I can tell." She chugged a long swallow of Heineken, relaxing for the first time all night.

  Eric cracked a grin in her direction, making him look like a college kid. After the band finished the last set to enthusiastic applause and whistles, he rejoined her at the table. Paul tried cajo
ling him into another beer, but Eric shook his head. "I've got to get Kris home. The storm's probably picked up."

  Her pulse accelerating, Kris said her goodbyes and followed him to the door. She halted. Sleet spit through the air, mixed with whipping snow. Another three inches must have accumulated.

  "I live five minutes down the road," Eric said. "How about we hang out at my place until there's a lull?"

  "I'll be ..." Kris broke off before she said "fine." What else did she have to do? Only Chipmunk awaited her back home, and she had a hunch her feline friend would approve. The cat had a bigger social life than she did. At least Chipmunk meowed at birds and dogs through the window.

  "Okay," she said. "For a little while."

  "Great. I'll scrape off the car."

  Kris huddled in the foyer, a wave of uneasiness hitting her. What was she getting herself into?

  ***

  Snow gusts buffeted outside Eric's apartment. Kris snuggled under a crocheted blanket, more comfortable than she would've believed possible. She surveyed the hand-me-down furniture, framed sports posters on the walls and window shades with no curtains. A trunk with brass latches doubled as a coffee table. Typical bachelor pad except for the keyboard in the corner and the shelves stacked with CDs and old record albums.

  Eric carried in a package of Oreos and two glasses of milk. He flipped on the TV, then hesitated between the armchair and the couch. He chose the couch, his blue-jeaned clad leg brushing against hers. A tingle crawled down her thigh. He hadn't acknowledged the kiss of the other night. They couldn't ignore it forever.

  "What'd you think of the show?" Eric passed her two cookies wrapped in a napkin.

  "It was great," she said. "Did you ever try to sell your songs?"

  "Back in college, I sent some stuff around to music publishers and independent producers. I found out I didn't handle rejection well and preferred music as a hobby. The other band members feel the same way, or we wouldn't have stayed together."

  "When did the band form?"

  "Senior year in high school. We started with big dreams, then life got in the way. I doubt we'll keep up the pace once everyone has kids. Laura's got baby fever, but hopefully the group will stay together." He broke off the top layer of an Oreo.

  "I wouldn't have the guts to go on stage."

  "I’d better come clean. It's an adrenaline rush as long as I don't have to sing. In high school, I tried lead vocals, but I’d make myself sick before shows. Paul likes to kid me about it."

  "Paul and I had a nice chat. He told me that you were interested in Diana as a kid. He said it upset your mother."

  "Yeah."

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Kris asked.

  Eric shrugged. "I resented it when you came along, at least until I got to know you better. I grew up with that mystery. I wanted to solve it."

  First she'd trespassed on Bruce's turf, now Eric's. "That's why you were against the investigation?"

  "Mainly, I was worried you'd exploit my family, but yeah, I was jealous they trusted a stranger. Pretty childish, I guess. You were more serious than I'd been. I'd treated it like a game of Cops and Robbers."

  She pulled the blanket tighter around her legs. "You never tried to solve the mystery when you got older?"

  "I didn't want to upset my mom again. When I was twelve, my father told me that she had been five months pregnant when Diana was killed. She had a miscarriage. It was an extra rough time for her."

  "That's awful. Your poor mom. I like her so much. She gave me a book on ..." Kris's voice trailed. She was wading into dangerous territory.

  "On what?"

  "Grief."

  Eric frowned. "Maybe your cousin's murder is what made Mom trust you. You seem so affected by it, even now. You must've been close."

  She didn't want to talk about this, couldn't talk about it. "Did I tell you that I spoke to Raquel about Alex Thaddeus?"

  Kris filled him in on Raquel's revelation. His jaw hardened.

  "I can't believe Diana would have an affair," he said. "Maybe she's right, Diana was trying to impress her with a story. Raquel was wild back then."

  "Did you tell your parents what Yvonne said?"

  "I mentioned it to Dad. He was skeptical. I didn't want to upset my mom."

  "I guess only Alex Thaddeus knows for sure."

  A long silence settled over them.

  "Do you want to stay over?" Eric asked. "It's miserable out. You could take the bed, of course. I'll take the couch."

  She smiled at the red tint to his cheeks. "Thanks, I'll take you up on that, but I'll be fine out here. I don't sleep well, so I'll probably watch TV for awhile."

  Kris changed into a pair of his old sweats and wandered back to the living room. Wind rattled the windows, its shriek drowning out the television. She folded her arms around the sweatshirt, wishing the baggy pants fit better. She'd hitched them up as high as they'd go.

  Eric handed her a pillow, his face inches away. "I wanted to apologize for that kiss the other day. I kind of sprung that on you."

  Her heartbeat rocketed in her chest. "You don't have to apologize. I liked it."

  "Enough for another one?"

  "Maybe. It was so long ago, I don't remember."

  His mere presence overwhelmed her, made words fly out of her mouth. He turned her chin toward him and grazed his lips to hers. Her knees wobbly, she melted into his embrace. They wound up against the wall, breathing heavy, clothing disheveled. Eric stepped back and cupped her waist. She knew he was waiting for a sign.

  Kris straightened her sweatshirt and tucked a hair strand behind her ear. She had to end this before they made a mistake. "Good night," she said with great effort.

  If Eric was disappointed, he didn't show it. She appreciated him even more.

  "Good night," he said. "If you need anything, I'll be in the other room."

  "Thanks."

  He kissed her again and retreated down the short hallway to his bedroom. Kris stood frozen. She shouldn't have come here. She wasn't who Eric thought. She wasn't who Nicole had thought, either. Kris found a movie on cable, preparing herself for a restless night.

  ***

  "Kris? Kris?"

  Her eyes snapped open, the scream ripping from her throat. She glanced around the dark room, shapes foreign, distorted by shadows. "No. I'm sorry Nicole ..."

  "Kris? Kris?" Someone shook her shoulder. She gasped.

  "Kris." Eric hugged her. Warm. He felt so warm. He stroked her hair, whispering in her ear. "It's okay. Everything's gonna be okay."

  Reality rushed back to her. She hadn't lasted through the movie. She had turned off the television and slipped into unconsciousness. Eric's face fuzzed in and out of focus.

  He switched on the lamp. "Want a glass of water?"

  "No."

  "What were you dreaming?"

  "I don't remember."

  "You screamed out ‘Nicole.’ You woke me up."

  "I'm sorry."

  "Don't be. Nicole was your cousin, right? Tell me about her." Eric rubbed her hair again, the gentle strokes calming her.

  "We were the same age," Kris said. "Our families were close. We lived in the same neighborhood."

  "That must've been fun."

  "It was. Lots of fun." Tears spilled down her cheeks. Eric traced one with his fingertip.

  "My mother told me your cousin was the girl who was killed by a neighbor," he said in a hushed voice. "I remember hearing about it when I was a kid. She went to a different school, but it still shook up all my friends. It was awful."

  He wasn't wearing a shirt, just sweatpants. She must've scared the hell out of him.

  "I’d rather not discuss it," Kris said.

  "I want to help."

  Kris felt the words surging to her throat, but she couldn't tell him. Not now. Not ever. "You are helping, just by being here. I don't want to be alone."

  She pressed her lips to Eric's, first softly then more urgent. He responded without hesitation, crushing his mouth a
gainst hers. Kris dug her nails into his shoulders and the smooth contoured muscles of his chest. He gently laid her back and nibbled her ear, working a sensuous trail down her neck.

  He glided down the zipper of her hooded sweatshirt and skimmed his thumb across her belly. She closed her eyes, arching as his hand slipped upward with agonizing slowness. Her stomach rose and fell as his fingers splayed over her heart. Kris's breathing quickened into a pant, every nerve ending igniting.

  His eyes moved up to her, communicating desire. "I care about you, Kris. I was happy when you showed up tonight. I was afraid you didn't feel the same way about me."

  "I do."

  "Are you sure you want to do this?"

  "Yes," she whispered. "Stop talking."

  Kris reached behind his head and pulled him down. Her thoughts scattered as she banished Nicole's disapproving ghost to the dim recesses of her mind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  25 Years Ago Today

  A sparkling new aluminum-lettered sign is placed in front of the Fremont Daily News building.

  Kris stretched out in the rumpled bed she and Eric had shared the previous night. She inhaled the rich roast scent of coffee, listening to his footsteps across the kitchen floor. Rubbing her eyes, she stared at the digital alarm clock on the nightstand.

  It couldn't be 10:30. She never slept that late. Kris blushed, remembering the slow caress of Eric's hands over her body. It had been nothing like her previous empty encounters. She'd had a short promiscuous phase in college, using men to fill the void. Once the chasm expanded, Kris pushed away the opposite sex, until Eric Soares.

  She scooped her clothes off the bureau, where Eric must've folded them, and dressed hurriedly. Eric had grown up in a family ravaged by grief and survived the consequences.

  They were kindred spirits.

  Kris found him near the stove, frying bread in foamy butter. Damp comb grooves slicked his hair. Instant shyness glued her in her tracks.

  Eric set a yellow-streaked bowl into the sink and planted a lingering kiss on her lips. He tasted of mint mouthwash and cinnamon. "You're not a health nut, are you? I'm making my special French toast."