She still couldn’t believe what had just happened. “I won.”
“I know.” His soft words of wonderment and pride soothed her ragged heart.
“I won.” She sat up straight and looked him in the eyes.
“You won.” His smile made her laugh with delight.
She jumped up and did a little victory dance. “I won, I won, I won,” she sang and pulled him to his feet with her good hand to join in. “I won.”
He whirled her around and came to a slow, lazy stop with his arms still wrapped around her. “Matilda, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
She didn’t have time to answer or argue. His mouth came down on hers in a kiss filled with dark, delicious promise. Heat settled in her belly, moving downward until it melted her core and resolve at the same time. She let a bit of her heart go. He had cracked it open until it beat for him. It scared her, but oh, what a heady thrill ride he’d given her.
He whispered and nuzzled her ear. “I like you naked.” His hand reached under her heather gray top to find her breast. “I’m almost sorry you got your luggage back.”
She didn’t mind the well-practiced moves or the way his fingers found her nipple. He stroked and pulled until the heat became a furnace of desire. Her knees were already shaky from the fight with Hirschberg; now Jordan had turned her legs into noodles.
She pulled away from the devastating kiss. “I don’t think I’ll need to sleep in the other room after all.”
“Why make the maid work harder?” His mouth skated over the sensitive skin of her neck. Chills of anticipation, mixed with the heat burning between her legs, added up to a perfect storm. He picked her up and headed toward the bed.
“You were readin’ my mind.”
Chapter Nineteen
Tilly’s cheeks glowed with the aftermath of mind-blowing sex. He still couldn’t believe she’d stayed with him, especially with his bumbling first attempts at a real relationship. She looked beautiful in her gray top, blue jeans, and bare feet with the purple nail polish. And the daisies. Those damned daisies made him hard as a rock. He squirmed around in the armchair and tried to act normal, instead of grabbing her up and making love again.
“Okay.” She ripped a piece of tape from the dispenser and attached it to a picture of the body in the tub. It went up underneath the supposed time of death. “Here we go. We find Ethridge dead in his room.” She stepped back to gaze at the picture and grimaced. “You know, as much as I disliked him, I’d like to know who pulled a Rasputin on him.”
The thrill of the chase wore the edge off his lust. Just barely. “Me, too. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we need to contact Jericho. He said he’d bring the security video by.”
She flopped down in a matching chair by the coffee table and sorted through the photographs. “So, you believe me when I say Olivia didn’t do it?” She got up and, one by one, taped pictures onto the surface and scribbled notes under each.
“Yes.” He got up to replenish his coffee. Maybe it would be hot enough to take his mind off the driving need for Tilly. He took a sip and grimaced in pain, satisfied when the roof of his mouth burned like a son-of-a-bitch. That ought to do it for about five seconds. “I have a feeling that whatever we’re looking for is right in front of us.” He walked over to the whiteboard and tapped it with his finger. “It’s like one of those damned Rubik’s Cubes.”
Her laugh washed over him. “I gave Ruby one of those for Christmas one year. Her solution involved a screwdriver and a hammer.” She frowned as she shifted one photo behind the other. “Hmmm,” she pondered, and pulled one of the pictures out for another look. “Olivia stated that she’d stayed no more than five minutes, so that means the killer hadn’t shown up yet. Bolzano had already delivered drugged wine. How long does GHB take to go into effect?”
He sat down at his computer and pulled up Google. “It says here anywhere from fifteen to thirty minutes. Plenty of time to drink a glass before the killer knocked on the door.”
“You know what’s been botherin’ me?” She held up the picture of the goat cheese smeared on the carpet. “Why go to all the trouble to give him poison if you’re gonna stab him? It had to be planned.” She waved the photograph in the air before she slapped it on the coffee table. “The killer brought the bleach to the crime scene. I’ll bet he had it, the goat cheese, the container with Olivia’s prints, and the knife stashed in a bag. So why give him a dose of botulism?”
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Surely the CSI has more information by now.” He dialed Jericho’s number. A rush of relief came the moment he heard the detective answer in less than two rings.
“Jericho here.”
“It’s Kelly. We’re working on our whiteboard. Do you still plan on showing us the security video?”
“Yes. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes. Our wedding party took an interesting turn when the bride showed up. She took one look at the groom and decided he could sit out the big event in jail.” He let out a low, cat-ate-the-canary chuckle. “She yelled ‘Grab your ankles, honey, and take a deep breath, because you’ll be spending your wedding night with Bubba instead of me.’”
“Okay.” He couldn’t hold back a grin. “I didn’t need that visual.”
Tilly jumped up and marched over to the whiteboard. She walked back and forth, surveying her work, changed a couple of photos, and erased the notations underneath.
Jericho snickered. “Hey, I take my entertainment where I can find it. I’ve got some new data from CSI to share with both of you.”
“You better get here soon. Tilly is pacing in front of the whiteboard and wearing a hole in the carpet. She’s got it set up and is loaded with a bunch of questions.”
“Didn’t you tell me that she was your pain in the ass?”
“Yeah, yeah.” With that the call ended and he turned to her. “Twenty minutes and we’ll know what’s on the video.”
“That’s great.” She placed her hands on her hips and scanned her hard work. “What do you think?”
“Grisly.”
“Murder’s a messy business, and a thirsty one.” She went over to the mini-bar and grabbed a sparkling water. The fizz sounded across the room as she twisted the top. “My BLT sandwich is protestin’. I’ve got to look at something else before I punch a roundtrip meal ticket.” She pointed at the board with her thumb and swigged down a hefty amount of water. “Why don’t we find something funny or educational to watch on TV?” A small ladylike burp followed her request. “Sorry.”
He picked up the remote to the television and hit the power button. One channel had on NFL football, the next a movie with zombies, which he didn’t think she would appreciate. The rest went by in a blur of disinterest. He almost switched channels again when a familiar sight caught his eye. He’d know that ghastly carpet anywhere. One of the television news channels had a grainy picture of Ethridge opening his door to a long, lanky brunette in sunglasses. The time in the lower right of the picture read 10:45 p.m. Odd time to be wearing shades. “This is Kaitlyn Harris for Channel Five News. Let’s review the video again. If you have any tips, call Channel Five and we will pass them along to the KCPD.”
“You better get over here. You’ll want to see this. I don’t think we’re going to have to wait for Jericho after all.”
She raced across the room to stand by him and watch the murder being played out. “That’s here in the hotel. Wait, it’s outside of Ethridge’s room,” She gasped and sank down beside his chair, folding her legs under her. They watched the brunette hold up a takeout box and give it a tempting shake. She gave a dainty shrug of her shoulders. The coat slipped down to show the mystery woman was naked from waist up. “It’s the goat cheese—has to be.”
Ethridge smiled and let the woman in.
“Look.” She pointed to the screen as it fast-forwarded to eleven o’clock p.m. A man in a dark ball cap and sunglasses, dressed in a running suit and carrying a gym bag stopped at Ethridge’s
door.
Jordan leaned forward in his chair and squinted at the television. Frustration ate at him. The poor quality of the video made identification of the man impossible.
Baseball Cap Guy pulled a collapsible walking stick out of the bag. He gave it a good yank, bringing it to its full length. There was a disorienting tilt of the security camera toward the ceiling, effectively blocking the view of the door.
“Who is she?” She ground out in exasperation. “And the guy, I mean, who wears dark glasses that time of night?”
“The killer.” All the years of brainstorming with Hank broke through the layers of confusion. “Or killers. I wonder if both of them are in on it.”
She looked up at him with puzzlement on her pretty face. “You mean we have two killers? Maybe that’s why the information on the timeline doesn’t make sense.”
A knock at the door had her on her feet and running to answer it. “Tyler, I’m so glad you’re here. You won’t believe what we’re watchin’.”
“The video of the security camera.” He pulled off his coat and threw it over his arm. “One of the security officers sold it to my ex for a small fortune. He’s in the wind. I brought the original. They have the gist of it, but I thought we could watch without all the commentary.”
“Jordan thinks we’re lookin’ for two killers.”
“That still doesn’t rule out Olivia. The security camera was never put back into the correct position. She could’ve come back after the other two left.”
“I still think she’s innocent.” She led him to the chair next to Jordan’s. “Have a seat.”
“In just a minute.”
“Coffee?” She went over to the half empty carafe and held up a cup.
“That would be great, but first, I want to put this in the player.” Jericho pulled a disc case from his jacket pocket and laid the jacket over the arm of the couch. He handed the disc to Jordan. “The CSI team cleaned it up as well as they could.”
Jordan reached into his pocket and pulled out his voice-activated recorder. He stood and held it out for Jericho’s inspection. “I bought this yesterday. I thought it would be good to keep notes on. Do you mind if I use it while we’re brainstorming?” He put the recorder on the desk and put the disc into the player.
“That’s fine.” Jericho sat down and leaned back in the chair. “Here we go.”
They watched the video several times without saying a word. The detective sipped his black coffee while Jordan studied each movement of the suspects.
Tilly finally broke the silence. “How did the woman get hold of Gilmore’s goat cheese?”
“It could’ve been anyone at the convention.” Jordan sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Anyone from the cleanup crew could’ve handed it off to someone else.”
“The woman was wearing a wig.” Jericho’s statement took him by surprise.
“What?”
“CSI said there were a few dark hairs that turned out to be from a high quality wig.”
“Damn.” He hadn’t been expecting a disguise.
“Something else showed up in the investigation. The forensic team caught it as an afterthought. We found a footprint next to the toilet. It had to have been left there after the killer cleaned the bathroom. At first they didn’t think much of it since the victim was barefoot, but it didn’t match Ethridge’s footprint. Too small, a higher arch, and a nice little scar across the heel. CSI is running DNA off the print.”
“They can do that?” Her eyes widened with amazement.
“Once the print is established and photographed, yes, they can.”
“Ethridge was in the tub.” She screwed up her face in an adorable frown. “Maybe the murderer took off his clothes and killed him in the nude.”
Jordan couldn’t help stating the obvious. “Ethridge was nude.”
“I meant the killer.” She gave him a small punch on the leg. “It’s a crazy idea.”
“So one of the killers got naked with Ethridge.”
“Yes, or maybe both.” The detective took another sip of his coffee and grimaced. “Cold.” He got up and poured himself another cup. “This is one of the most twisted murders I’ve ever worked. Did either of you see anything that might help?”
Jordan shook his head. “Sorry. I couldn’t make out the faces.”
“That’s as clear as the CSI digital team could make the video. It’s not as easy as it is on television.” Jericho placed his half-empty mug of coffee on the table by the carafe. “I’ve got to get back to the station.” He went to the couch and put on his jacket. “I’ll let you know if they find anything else.”
“Okay. We’ll be here.” She waved at Jericho, just as her phone chimed. Her eyes focused on the text message and she glanced up with a satisfied smile. “I need to run down to the Business Center to pick up a fax. Hirschberg ponied up. My lawyer says they sent one to my computer, but I like to read everything on paper.” She rose and went over to the bed where her backless clogs lay. A minute later, she came back and hooked her arm through Jericho’s. “I’ll walk down with you.”
A stab of jealousy hit Jordan, but he let it slide. Tilly was being Tilly. The last thing he wanted to do was to break their tenuous truce by acting on his emotions. He reminded himself that in the end, she’d chosen him. “Take care of my lady.”
The detective gave him a nod. “Will do.”
She waved and blew him a kiss. “I’m just goin’ downstairs. What can happen?”
Chapter Twenty
The fax machine spit out the last page of her contract. She snatched it up and read through the first part of all the legalese. Steve’s accompanying letter broke it down into English, but she still preferred to read the document in good old black and white, in all its wordy glory. She started toward the entrance of the vacant Business Center with her attention on a tricky clause in the contract. She had to read it a couple of times for it to make sense as she compared it to Steve’s letter. A hard bump on her shoulder caused her to look up. It was Miranda and Austin Kenslo.
“Well, well, well.” Miranda’s snake-green eyes glittered with hatred. “Tilly Danes, you are a bitch.”
“Never said I wasn’t.” So this was going to be another drama with Miranda as the diva. What part Kenslo had to play wasn’t clear, but she was sure she would find out. The outfit Miranda chose fit the part. It was her red suit. The Red Queen ready to shout “Off with her head,” right down to her red-soled shoes.
Red-soled shoes.
The image on the video reran through Tilly’s mind at warp speed. The brunette had on black, red-soled shoes. It had to be Miranda. She’d seen one or two women at the romance convention with shoes bearing the famous soles, but only one at the personal chefs’ convention. They all wore clogs or work shoes. Only Miranda sported the pricey heels. Why hadn’t she caught it the moment she viewed the video?
She blinked fast to collect her thoughts. Did that mean the agent was the man in the ball cap?
“You think you’re so smart, getting me fired, but you weren’t smart enough,” Miranda hissed in her ear.
Kenslo sidled up to her, grabbed her arm, and pulled her close enough to jam something hard against her ribs.
“That’s right. It’s a gun.” He gave her a little push out the door and toward the bank of elevators. A throng of women and a few men stood waiting for the next car. Kenslo leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Nice and quiet. We’re going up to Kelly’s suite. Did you know the two of you are about to have a nasty lovers’ quarrel? He’s going to kill you. Kelly will be so filled with remorse. Poor guy offs himself. So tragic.”
“You’re crazy.” She glanced up at them. “You are both certifiable.”
The gun ground harder into her ribs. “Crazy enough to be alive when this all goes down. Not a peep, or I will shoot you. It could get messy if I take out one or two innocent people as well. I’ve got nothing to lose at this point. Got it?”
Her brain froze with fright, making her stumble.
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“I wouldn’t give Austin an excuse.” The woman towered over her. “I don’t want your insides splattered over me. Tell him you understand,” she hissed. “Nod if you understand.”
She clenched her jaw and nodded.
“Good.”
The elevator door opened and a group of women piled out.
“Tilly Danes. Oh, my god, it is Tilly Danes.” One woman dressed in a bright purple suit, toting a bag filled with books, stopped in front of them. “I thought I saw you earlier with Jordan Kelly. I told everyone that was you, but they thought I was nuts. You are my favorite chef on The Culinary Channel.”
“Thank you.” She worked hard to keep her coffee and the BLT sandwich down.
“Oh, I wish they had one of your cookbooks at the booksellers. Would you be a doll and give me your autograph?” The woman dug around inside her gimme bag and pulled out a notebook with a pen attached. She ripped the pen out of the holder and opened her notebook. She held it out, hope and excitement shining in her eyes.
“Ah…well…I…ah.” She didn’t know what to do to keep her fan from harm. She glanced up at Kenslo. He gave a small nod. “Okay, I’d love to, but my friends and I are in a hurry.” She held out her hands, wiggling her fingers to indicate the woman quickly give her the pen and paper.
“Oh, I’m so excited. You know, I tried the recipe for those morning buns and they turned out great.” The woman got close enough that her friends started aiming their phones at Tilly and snapped pictures. “Make that out to Virginia Madison. No wait, that’s my pen name. Virgie Harper.”
“No photos.” Miranda’s voice rang out over the excited crowd. She grabbed Tilly’s arm before she was done with the autograph and hauled her unceremoniously into the car. “We’re on a tight schedule.”
Everyone backed away to let them through.
“Sorry. I’m sorry.” She gave the woman in purple an apologetic smile as the door closed. The gun burrowed harder against her body. She didn’t need a reminder from a man with an itchy trigger finger. Miranda moved in closer until she felt like the filling in a killer sandwich. The press of people made her nervous. All it would take was someone jostling toward the door at the next stop and boom, she’d be dead. As well as the woman next to her who chatted away, completely unaware of the danger.
Recipe for Love (Entangled Select Suspense) Page 25
