CHAPTER FOUR
"Sweetheart?"
My lids were heavy, but I managed to force my eyes open.
"Are you all right?" Greg was bending over me, holding an ice pack to the side of my head. His face was pale, and I could tell he'd been busy running his fingers worriedly through his curly, light-brown hair. It was more unkempt than usual.
"I—I think so. What happened?" I glanced around in confusion and then realized I was lying on the loveseat in my office. A cluster of flashing lights reflected on my window from the parking lot outside. Suddenly, I remembered and struggled to sit up. "Tiffany. Where is she?"
Greg eased me back down. "They're upstairs photographing the crime scene." A murmur of distant voices was barely audible through the ceiling.
"Then she's—" I couldn't bring myself to say the word.
Greg's expression was grim. "She's gone." He stroked my cheek gently. "She was shot several times."
"Mrs. York?" For the first time, I noticed the stocky policeman standing next to my husband. "I'm Officer Simon. Can you tell me what happened?"
I shook my head and winced from the pain. "Not really. I was supposed to meet Tiffany at seven o'clock. I was a little late arriving." I reached my hand up to my temple and rubbed my throbbing head, wincing when I touched the bump. "When I got here, the front door was open, and the lights were out. Then I came upstairs and found her—" The words stuck in my throat.
"When was the last time you saw her alive?" Officer Simon asked.
I shivered. "I think I fainted. My head hurts, and I'm so cold."
Greg reached for an afghan on the back of the couch and covered me. "You must have hit your head on her desk when you passed out. There's a huge egg above your ear. I want you to get checked out at the hospital."
I studied the concern on his face. "Who called you?"
Before Greg could answer, a pitiful wailing sound came from the adjoining office. I bolted upright and clutched his hand. "What's that?"
Greg put his arm around me. "It's Donna. She's the one who found you and Tiffany. She was so hysterical on the phone, I didn't even know what had happened. I thought you'd been killed." His eyes were dark as he held me close to him.
I couldn't bring myself to speak. Instead, I clutched his hand tightly, trying to imagine what had been going through his mind as he sped over here.
At that moment, Donna entered the room sobbing uncontrollably. She was supported by a policeman who introduced himself to us as Officer Lennon.
"Miss Cushman, we're done with you for now. We may want to question you again tomorrow though." Officer Simon made some notes on a pad.
Donna nodded and wiped her eyes. Her weeping continued as she clutched Officer Lennon's arm tighter.
"Is there someone who can take you home? You shouldn't be driving in your condition," Officer Lennon said.
"My husband's out of town until tomorrow, but I'll be all right. I only live a few blocks away." Donna blew her nose. Despite her apparent misery, she managed to give Officer Lennon a flirty smile.
Greg whispered in my ear. "She's married?"
I caught the note of surprise in his voice. "I'll fill you in later." I thought suddenly of the recent comment Jacques had said about our man hungry boss. "If she keeps throwing herself at every warm-blooded male, she's never going to land one. Hell, even I got one before her!"
Donna's gaze came to rest on Greg. "You got here so quickly, even before the police. I'm grateful to you."
Good grief. Donna had set her sights on my husband the day she met him. The first time Greg came into the office, Donna had boldly invited him to her house for a home-cooked meal right in front of me. She was acutely embarrassed when I'd introduced him as my husband. Sometimes I think that's why she can't stand me.
Greg was silent for a few moments while he glared at Donna. "You weren't exactly coherent on the phone. I thought my wife had been killed. The drive here was the worst ten minutes of my life."
Donna turned her steely blue eyes on me. "I hope you're happy."
My mouth opened in astonishment. "Look, Donna, I'm sorry about Tiffany—"
"You're not sorry. Why would you be sorry when you're the one who killed her?" She grabbed Officer Lennon's arm with one hand and pointed at me with the other. "Arrest her. Now!"
There was total silence in the room as Greg removed his arm from my shoulders and rose to his feet. He glowered at Donna as he approached. "Cindy never laid a finger on her. Tiffany was dead before she even arrived."
Donna sneered. "Of course you'd say that. You'll do anything to protect your precious wife."
Greg's face turned crimson, and his voice became a low, angry growl. "You know nothing about my wife, except how to cheat her out of the listings she works her butt off for. Besides, Cindy hates guns. She's afraid to even go near one. Do you know why?"
"Greg," I protested.
"No, your so-called boss needs to hear this."
"Mr. York, where is this going?" Officer Simon wanted to know.
Greg ignored him as he kept his eyes fixed on Donna, who started to squirm under his gaze. "When Cindy was in high school, a friend of hers committed suicide. He shot himself with a gun. Cindy's the one who found him."
I closed my eyes and shuddered as the image of Paul's body entered my mind again. God, how I hated reliving that moment. There had been no warnings or signs that Paul would take his own life. If we'd only known what had been running through his head that day.
Greg sensed my agitation and sat back down, gathering me in his arms. "I'm sorry, baby. I know how much that upsets you."
"It's all right." A tear rolled down my cheek.
Donna laughed in disbelief. "Yeah, right. Nice try, Mr. and Mrs. York. What a touching story. I'm not buying it though."
Officer Simon spoke in an irritated tone. "Miss Cushman, you're upset. You don't know what you're saying."
"Don't you get it, officer? All she cares about is her precious listing. She called me earlier today and complained Tiffany had stolen one from her. And she said she'd stop at nothing to get it back." Donna shot me a venomous look, then started weeping again.
Officer Simon made a face. "Ma'am, I insist you go home. You need to rest."
Yeah, and take a Valium too.
Donna covered her face with her hands as she sobbed. "I can't believe it. My dear friend is gone."
"More like your cash cow." Greg muttered under his breath as Officer Simon shot him an inquisitive look.
Officer Lennon led Donna from the room. She turned around to glance at me hatefully. "If you did this, I'll make sure you pay. And that's a promise you can take to the bank."
I was too stunned for words. Donna carried a lot of clout in this town. She was definitely going to make trouble for me. Perhaps it was time I started looking for gainful employment elsewhere.
Officer Simon interrupted my thoughts. "Mrs. York, when was the last time you saw Miss Roberts alive?"
"I think it was today. No, wait, it was yesterday. She was at the office when I came to pick up an Open House sign." My head throbbed with pain.
"Do you know anyone that might have wanted to hurt Miss Roberts?" Officer Simon asked.
I answered as truthfully as I could. "Well, frankly, yes. There are a lot of people who didn't like her, including myself. She was mean, talked behind other people's backs, and was a dishonest real estate agent."
I glanced at Greg. His eyes were blazing. Uh-oh. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut?
Officer Simon grunted. "Is that why you left her a threatening message earlier today?"
My voice faltered. "I—I did what?"
He cleared his throat. "We found Miss Roberts' cell phone on her desk. We just finished listening to her messages. There was one from you, asking her to please call you back right away, unless she wanted to die young."
"Oh, shit." Greg rolled his eyes at me.
Officer Simon glared at him and then turned back to me. "Mrs. York, would you care to explain your
self?"
The lump in my throat was growing larger by the minute. I didn't want to speak because I ultimately knew what was going to happen. "She stole my listing. I told her to give it back. I'd never do anything to hurt her though. Honest." My eyes filled with unshed tears.
"Baby, you should rest." Greg shot me an irritated look and then addressed the policeman. "Officer, I'd like to get her to the hospital. Can we finish this tomorrow?"
What did I do now? "What'll happen to my babies if they put me in jail?"
"An ambulance is on the way." Officer Simon's cell phone rang, and he turned away from us to answer it.
Greg took the opportunity to whisper in my ear. "You need to stop talking before you make things worse for yourself. Now lie still. I think I hear the ambulance coming."
"I don't want to go to jail."
"Baby, you're not going to jail. You're going to the hospital to have your head examined."
So the day everyone feared had finally happened for me. "With the men in white coats?" I managed to squeak out.
Greg looked at me like I had corn growing out of my ears. "What in God's name are you talking about?"
I started giggling hysterically and couldn't bring myself to stop, even when tears gushed from my eyes and over my cheeks. The sound reminded me of a hyena. "I'm glad you're not angry with me, honey."
Officer Simon finished his call and looked over at me with a strange expression. "Is she having some type of seizure?"
Greg managed a painful smile. "I think she's in shock and a little confused. But she'll be okay. Right, hon?"
I heard Greg's voice clearly and did my best to nod before I slipped into unconsciousness again.
When I awoke, I found myself in a dimly lit hospital room. Greg sat in a chair next to me, watching the news, his large hand massaging mine.
"Hey," I croaked. My throat burned.
Greg gave a slow nod, then turned the volume down. He leaned over and kissed me softly, his eyes full of concern. "Well, at least there's nothing on here about the murder yet. How do you feel, princess?"
"Did I faint again?"
"You came to in the ambulance for a few minutes, but went out like a light again." Greg smiled. "I told them you're a chronic fainter when you get stressed."
I winced. "Like when I found out we were having twins."
"Exactly. And on our wedding day, remember?"
"God, don't remind me. It was so embarrassing." I licked my parched lips. "I need a drink."
Greg reached over to the tray at my bedside and poured water out of a plastic, blue pitcher. He held the cup to my lips. "Slowly, sweetheart."
I drank gratefully and laid my head back against the pillows. "Who's watching the kids?"
"My mom's there."
I tried to stifle a groan. Greg's mother couldn't stand me. If she knew what happened, she'd be licking her chops in anticipation of taking over my home when I went to prison. She was also my kids' only surviving grandparent and thought the sun rose and set on them.
I wanted to protect my children from this incident but wasn't sure that would be possible. "Did you tell her what happened?"
"I had to, baby. I was a little too shocked to make up a lame excuse on the spur of the moment."
I would have smacked my head against something hard, but I'd already done that once tonight. "Couldn't you find someone else to stay with them? Some random stranger on the street?"
Greg wrapped me in a bear hug as I started to cry. "Come on. You're overreacting—as usual."
"What's going to happen to me?"
"Nothing's going to happen." He kissed my forehead. "The doctor wants to keep you overnight for observation. You hit your head pretty hard. In the morning, the police will probably be back to ask you a few more questions."
I blinked away tears. "I'm not being arrested?"
"They can't prove you did anything. It's all circumstantial at this point."
"Oh, thank God." I let out a huge sigh. "But who could have killed her?"
Greg shrugged. "Who didn't want to kill her? That seems to be the real mystery. You're not the only one who got burned by her." He examined my face. "You're whiter than the sheet in your hands."
"They heard my phone call. I threatened her, and that makes me a suspect."
"Look at me."
I blinked the tears away from my eyes as Greg laced his fingers through mine. His gaze was solemn, but direct. "You trust me, right?"
I nodded.
"Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you. Ever."
CHAPTER FIVE
I awakened the next morning to find my husband sitting on the edge of my hospital bed. His bright-blue eyes were bleary, and the unruly hair I loved was a complete disaster. His handsome face desperately needed a shave. Yet he was still utterly adorable. I managed a smile. "Hello, sexy."
"Good morning, sunshine." He grinned as he handed me a cup of coffee. "How do you feel today?"
"Like I have a hangover. How do you feel? If I look like you, I'm really in trouble."
Greg chuckled. "You're beautiful as always. I would've slept better if they hadn't been in here every damn hour to take your blood pressure. Whenever I started to nod off, someone else trotted in."
"I don't remember. I must have been out like a light."
He stroked my hair tenderly. "You thrashed around a lot last night. Bad dreams about Tiffany?"
I nodded. "And your mother."
"What about her?"
"I dreamed we went home, and she was gone. She took the kids and left the country. Someone spotted them in South America."
Greg burst out laughing. "I talked to her a little while ago. Everything's fine. The kids left for school right on time. Mom was going to tidy up a little bit and be on her way."
I smiled wanly at my husband, who clearly had no idea what "tidy up" meant to his mama. If she had her way, she'd take my house apart and put it back together again. My clothes would all be packed and waiting for me on the front porch when I got home.
I ran my fingers over the unshaven stubble on his chin. "Can we go home now?"
"Yeah, the nurse brought your discharge papers. You'll need to sign them when she comes back. But first, you need to eat breakfast." He lifted the plastic lid off the tray next to my bed to reveal a generous portion of French toast and bacon. I shook my head vigorously.
"Baby, you've got to keep your strength up."
"You eat it. I'll have the yogurt."
Greg handed me the container and a spoon while he dug into the bacon. "Hmm. This isn't half bad. Not nearly as good as yours, though."
"Flatterer."
He stood, stretched, and yawned. "You had company this morning."
"Why didn't you wake me?"
"Believe me, it was better I didn't," Greg said. "It was your buddy, Simon. You know, Police Officer of the Year."
"Oh no. What did he want?"
"He had a couple more questions. I was praying you wouldn't wake up." He grinned. "You were mumbling and moving around in your sleep like crazy. I think it scared him."
"What'd he want to know—if I threw the gun in the river?"
Greg offered me a glass of orange juice, and I shook my head. He looked like he needed the vitamin C more than I did.
He gulped it down in one long drink, then smacked his lips. "He asked how long you'd known Tiffany and if you knew anything about her personal life."
"And you said…"
"I said you'd been with the agency for nearly three years, and Tiffany had joined about two years ago. I told him you weren't friends outside the office, and you knew nothing about her personal life. They were going over to her house to see if they could find anything relevant. He asked me if I knew the address offhand." Greg snorted. "Some policeman."
I shook my head. "I've no idea where she lived. Probably a palace filled with a zillion designer shoes though."
"She didn't have kids, right?"
"I don't think so. She was in her early t
wenties, and I never saw any pictures or heard her make references to children. She probably didn't even own a goldfish. Jacques said she partied a lot."
Greg sounded surprised. "He was friendly with her?"
I shrugged. "Jacques is friendly with everyone."
"Oh, right." At this, Greg took his phone out and started checking for messages.
Any mention of Jacques tended to make Greg uncomfortable. Jacques is my dearest friend in the world. We've worked together for the past three years, and he's been very helpful in guiding my career. He's second only to Tiffany in sales, but at least he comes by them honestly.
It isn't that Greg begrudges me having a male friend. The problem is he's not receptive to Jacques' lifestyle. Last year, Jacques married his longtime love, Ed Kapinski. I attended the wedding alone since Greg came down with a mysterious case of the flu at the last minute.
Greg had a very tight upbringing with a judgmental mother who doesn't exactly see eye to eye with me. Most days I'm convinced he was adopted as a baby. While I suspect Jacques knows of Greg's feelings, it's never been a topic of conversation between us.
"By the way, he called earlier."
"Jacques? What'd he say?" I pressed him.
Greg kept staring at his phone. "He wanted to make sure you were okay and was going to stop by. I told him we were leaving for home soon. He said he'd come by the house later, if that was all right. I told him it was fine. He can stay with you while I make a quick stop to see a client." He put his phone away and stood.
"Greg—"
He silenced me with a kiss on the lips and handed me my clothes. "No more talking. Let's get you out of here, babe."
We arrived home minutes before noon. A feeling of dread hit me like a brick wall when I noticed my mother-in-law's car still in our driveway.
"Oh, I figured Mom would have left already." It sounded more like an apology from my husband than an actual statement.
I shut my eyes tightly. Ugh. I can't deal with her right now.
Greg sensed my agitation. "I'm sure she won't stay long, Cin." He gently helped me out of the car and put his arm around my shoulders.
I know there's no such thing as a perfect man. If it weren't for Greg's mother, he would have come close though.
Killer Transaction (Cindy York Mysteries Book 1) Page 4
