Last night runs through my mind, and I quickly run it right back out.
That was different. The body essentially demanded to be moved in fear of a bad hair day.
Everett nods to Mr. Wolfe. “The prosecution may call its first witness.”
Mr. Wolfe stands. “The People call Carter Cameron’s boss, Riley Ellis.”
Riley Ellis, a tall bald man with a shiny gray suit, takes the stand and is quickly sworn in.
“Riley”—Mr. Wolfe starts—“please state how long you’ve known Carter and to what degree would you consider him a violent person?”
The bald man leans forward. “I’ve known Carter his whole life. We were best friends from the time we were four years old. And about three years ago he came to work for me at the car dealership I manage. Carter was easygoing, fun to be around, never had a cross word to say about anyone. He had a few serious relationships that all ended pretty well, in that they came away friends. We all had drinks at the bar. And nobody has ever accused him of doing anything like that woman has.” He glances to Allison Gray, and his eyes harden a moment. “It’s no wonder Carter was trying to get away from her as fast as he could.”
“Objection.” Fiona jumps to her feet. “Hearsay.”
“Sustained,” Everett says, and I won’t lie. Watching him in action like this is getting me a little hot under the collar. The baby gives a kick as if he or she were excited to see it, too.
Mr. Wolfe steps forward. “You mentioned having drinks at the bar with Carter. Has Carter ever picked a fight with anyone while the two of you were out? Did he ever display any kind of a temper toward anyone?”
“Never,” the witness is quick to say. “In fact, if anyone was hotheaded, it was me. Carter was always plucking me off some lucky fool before my fist could do its thing. He was a good friend with a good head on his shoulders. The guy volunteered at a homeless shelter, for Pete’s sake.”
Mr. Wolfe takes a breath. “And to your knowledge, what was the timeline of Carter’s relationship with Allison?”
“They met when she came to the dealership looking for a new car—a sedan which he did help her purchase as far as closing out the transaction. She was flirtatious and he was willing. The two of them went out to a fancy meal at a place called Kenicky’s Steakhouse.”
Flo raises her hand. “Oh! Oh! That’s where I want my big to-do! I want the party at Kenicky’s. It’s going to be great, Lot. Oh, you’re gonna love it. You’ll see.”
The witness nods. “I only remember this because he let me know how much he spent on dinner that night,” Riley continues. “I told him I hope she was worth it, and he said she was. He said more than once that she was the one.”
“The one to what?” Mr. Wolfe gives a manufactured grin.
“To marry.” Riley Ellis’ expression turns sour. “Until she wasn’t.”
“What does that mean?” Mr. Wolfe steps forward. “Did things go south for Carter and Allison?”
“Yes, they did. Carter said she was demanding. She wanted an accounting of his time. That she became verbally abusive when he showed any resistance. He wanted out. He said he couldn’t spend his life with a woman like that.”
“Objection, hearsay, again,” Fiona belts it out, and Everett nods her way.
“Overruled”—Everett thunders—“let’s hear what he has to say.”
Mr. Wolfe offers his witness a stony-eyed stare. “Had you ever seen anything negative between the two of them?”
“Yes. About a week before he was killed. Allison came by late one night, and they argued in his office. She was dressed nicely. I heard her say something like how could you? And that’s all I heard. About twenty minutes later, she stormed out of his office and left alone. I went over and asked if he was all right, and he said he couldn’t get rid of her. That she was becoming a real problem in his life, and he didn’t know what to do about it.”
Mr. Wolfe heads back to his seat. “Thank you. I have no further questions.”
Everett looks to Fiona. “Does the defense have any questions?”
Fiona and the strawberry blonde whisper amongst themselves a moment.
“Ooh!” Flo waves my way to garner my attention. “The Dagger just assured her client she was going to bust the lying rat’s cookies. This should be good.”
Fiona steps forward, looking ever so slightly ticked. She’s all business, and Riley Ellis is already tensing up on the stand.
“Mr. Ellis, do you believe it’s okay for a man to strike a woman?”
He stiffens, long pause. “No.”
“But you yourself have been arrested for domestic violence not once but on three different occasions. What happened in those instances?”
The deputy DA stands. “Your Honor, Mr. Ellis is not on trial here. Motion to strike the last question.”
Everett nods. “Sustained.”
Fiona squints over at the man on the stand. “Did Carter ever confess to you that he had struck Allison or that he would like to cause physical harm to her?”
The witness shifts in his seat. His best friend was the victim here. This can’t be easy on him. And, of course, he’s going to want to paint Carter in a good light, especially now that he’s dead.
“Mr. Ellis,” Everett calls him to attention. “Just a reminder, you are under oath. Please answer the question.”
Riley gives Fiona a look that lets her know he’s not all that pleased where she’s taken this.
“Carter never laid a hand on that girl. Did he want to? Yeah, he said he’d like to shake her a time or two, but that was because he couldn’t get her to understand it was over.” He glances our way and takes a moment to glare at us. “And yes, I’ve been in a rough relationship myself. But I never hit my wife. I never did any of that. All of those charges were brought on because we argued and I kicked a trashcan over once, causing the entire neighborhood to freak out. It was nothing. Just like this is nothing.”
Fiona flashes a forced grin. “Did you and Carter ever participate in a dating service called the Elite Entourage?”
An audible gasp escapes me, and all eyes turn my way.
“Sorry,” I say, patting my fingers over my lip. I happen to know firsthand that the Elite Entourage is nothing but a front for call girls—or girls who make the call whether or not they go the full nine yards with the sleazes who pay for their company. Greer Giles, one of the ghosts at my mother’s B&B, worked as one of their girls, and I’m not thrilled to say both of my stepsisters, Aspen and Kelleth, were involved with them at one time.
Mr. Wolfe stands. “Your Honor, it’s clear by juror number twenty-three’s reaction that she has some foreknowledge of the agency, and thus may be prejudiced against the testimony my witness is giving. Motion to strike any reference of the Elite Entourage from this point forward.”
Everett purses his lips as he looks my way. “Motion denied. The juror understands she is to remain impartial.”
I sure do. But can I? I mean, let’s get real. Nobody goes snooping around the Elite Entourage unless they have some serious cash they want to part with, and with lascivious reasons to do so.
“We did.” Riley shrugs. “Last summer. July, I think. It was for a friend we work with. I can’t give you his name because he’s married, but for kicks we all created a profile. Nothing came of it.”
“Really?” Fiona raises a brow. “I was able to use one of my connections, and it turns out that in July of last year one of their girls was sent to meet with someone who worked at your dealership. Was that person Carter Cameron?”
“No.” Riley doesn’t miss a beat.
Fiona bucks with a silent laugh. “You’re still protecting him. You’ll protect him forever, won’t you? You’re a very good friend, Mr. Ellis. And a lousy witness.”
Mr. Wolfe jumps to his feet. “Objection, Your Honor. Leading.”
“Sustained.”
Fiona shrugs. “The defense is through with this cross.”
The prosecution brings forth two more witness
es, a woman and man who both happened to work with Carter Cameron. The woman also dated him on and off and testified that he was nothing but a gentleman, not one note of anger in his voice, not one wayward look came from him.
The young man who worked with him attested to the fact he was prompt, loyal, and often looked after other employees as if he were a brother. And not only that, he spearheaded three fundraisers at the dealership where all proceeds went to the homeless shelter. They made him sound like a saint—as if he had a heart of gold.
As it stands right now, I think an irate girlfriend slaughtered Carter Cameron. Fiona’s questioning of the two witnesses was rather benign.
The day in court ends, and Everett reminds us not to speak a word about the proceedings to anyone, including each other right before he dismisses us.
“Thank goodness.” Flo drags herself off the table as the two of us head outside and Everett comes around from the side door sans his robe. I quickly pick up his hand in the event she has something else to say.
“All right, Mr. Sexy”—Flo honks out a laugh—“your courtroom provided just the right environment for a nice long nap. Now that we’re all rested, it’s time to have some fun. Scooter Springs, here we come.” Her glowing eyes sharpen over mine. “It’s time for Nicky Knuckles to pay for what he’s done to me.”
Chapter 10
Delfino’s is a rather snazzy joint in Scooter Springs with a club vibe yet a gourmet menu.
Scooter Springs sits a little north of Honey Hollow just past the quaint little town of Starry Falls. However, there’s nothing quaint about Scooter Springs. It has all of the rough and tumble appeal of Leeds, not to mention dicey clubs and rowdy bars. I can see why the mob would find it appealing.
Carlotta, Everett, Noah, and I are quickly settled at a round table in the center of the action. Delfino’s is dimly lit, save for ambient lighting, the sound of country music croons through the speakers, and there’s an entire group of women dancing, mostly by themselves, fully clothed, each dressed head to toe in rose gold dresses—I have no idea what their deal is, but they definitely look like entertainment of some sort.
I’m not really sure what’s going on here, but as soon as I saw they had fried pickles as an appetizer, I ordered three servings. Let’s get real, appetizers are hardly enough for one human, let alone four and a half. And not only that, I ordered a full antipasto platter, along with a side of ranch and buffalo sauce. It’s not like I’m going to sit around eating salami without being able to dip it into two of my favorite sauces. I’m not a monster.
Everett and Noah are heavily embroiled in a conversation regarding the construction of the new house, and every now and again I hear them say Bear’s name in a disparaging light—not that I can blame them after that stunt he pulled at Nell’s old place—the stunt he’s still pulling there.
Flo pops up in all of her pink finery, along with that sparkle of dark stars caught in her hair.
“He’s here,” she crows as she gives a nervous look around. “I can sense him. And don’t get me started on the fact I’m still craving a bite out of that rock-hard—”
“I get it,” I say. “Actually, I don’t,” I’m quick to recant. “Flo, he could be your killer.”
“I can’t help it. Nicky and I had a very twisted relationship. I’ll see you later, Lottie. I’m going to hunt him down.” She floats into the crowd while dancing with her arms up high over her head.
“Tell me when you find him,” I shout after her.
“I can’t blame her, Lot.” Carlotta offers up a forlorn look in her direction. “I once felt that way about Harry. Why do you think I came back to Honey Hollow?”
“Harry didn’t kill you. And I happen to know you came back to Honey Hollow for the reading of Nell’s will. Although I’d like to think I had a little something to do with it.”
“No, but you had plenty to do with why I was missing all those years. As it turns out, you were nothing to be afraid of. If I knew I could have all the dessert I wanted for free, I’d a come back sooner. And let’s face it, Harry’s freaky side is the glue that keeps my feet stuck to that one-horse town.”
“Nice to know,” I say, making rosettes of a variety of Italian lunchmeats and swiping them through the ranch dip before shoving it all into my mouth. A hard groan comes from me. “You know, this wouldn’t taste bad in a cruller,” I say through a mouthful.
One of those dancing damsels clad in shiny rose fabric shimmies up to our table, and both Noah and Everett cease their conversation and observe her for a moment. She’s a redhead with deep-set dimples. And in each of those dimples she has a small silver piercing tucked inside, making them that much more pronounced.
“Oh, I see how it is,” I snip. “You can’t tear yourselves away from your conversation about retractable sprinkler heads when I’m giving my soliloquy on the finer points of Italian deli meats, but once Ms. Glitz and Glamour shows up, it’s all eyes on her.” Mostly that’s my hormones talking. I’m not insecure in my relationship with either of these men, but I guess I’m not only hungry for Italian lunchmeats tonight, I’m starved for their attention.
Everett frowns my way before his lips twitch with a benevolent smile.
“I like this side of you, Lemon.”
“Hear that, Lot?” Noah hikes his brows. “He likes you jealous. What does that say about his character?”
“Hold your horses, boys.” Carlotta rubs her fingers together toward the two of them as if asking for some cold, hard cash, and Everett quickly drops a twenty-dollar bill into her hand. “Take this, honey.” Carlotta hands the cash to the dimpled dancer. “Stay away from our table and keep the rest of the glossy girls away, too.”
“With these lookers”—the woman blows both Noah and Everett a kiss while shoving the bill between her breasts—“I can’t make any promises. My name is Jewel, if you’re interested.” She bops off to the next table, shaking her belly as if it was on a swivel.
Carlotta leans my way. “Someone had to give her the boot. She was cramping my style. I’ve already made eye contact with three different men. Two want to take me back to their place, and one wants to have a meet and greet in the men’s room.”
“What?” I squawk. “Carlotta, you are insane. You’ve been with me the entire time. Nobody has propositioned you.”
“You’d be surprised how much you can learn from just a look, Lot. You, of all people, should know that. But you’re stuck in a box with Sexy all day and not in a good way. What’s the case about, anyway?”
“A woman stabbed her boyfriend to death.”
“Lemon.” Everett straightens in his seat a moment. “You’re under oath not to talk about the proceedings.”
Noah shrugs. “Then kick her off the case.” He winks my way, and I bite down a smile.
“Sometimes, Noah Corbin Fox, you are a genius.” I blow a kiss his way to reward him.
“No,” Everett says it curtly. “I’m not kicking you off the jury. I’m aware people do bring up the case at home without meaning to. But it was a momentary lapse. I’m sure it won’t happen again.”
“And if you keep talking, Lot”—Carlotta snaps up a fried pickle spear—“he’s going to find a creative way to silence you.” She shoves the pickle into her mouth and gives it a crunch that makes both Noah and Everett wince.
“Don’t worry, Everett,” I tell him. “It’s not like Carlotta or Noah is going to ruin the case.”
Carlotta pats my arm. “Not when we got Lot here doing it for us. So is the woman guilty, or what?”
“I think so,” I say, snapping up a fried pickle spear myself.
“Lemon?” Everett looks incensed and yet slightly amused—just slightly. “You were instructed not to form an opinion until you have all of the evidence. I’d hold onto your judgment until the end, and I wouldn’t share it with anyone. We should most definitely change the subject.”
“Sorry.” My shoulders bounce. “But it’s not like I’m a professional juror.”
“That’s the whole point, Lot.” Carlotta swishes her pickle spear in the ranch dressing. “They’re not looking for pros. They’re looking for everyday people to make the call.”
“She’s right,” Everett is quick to point out. “And you make a great juror. I’ll choose to strike this conversation from my memory, as should you.”
“Everett.” A tiny laugh strums from me. “I’m not a robot. And neither are any of the jurors. When you strike a motion in the courtroom, we still remember it. I mean, we’re not trying to be disobedient, but you don’t really think we’re going to ignore it, do you?”
“Yes.” His eyes widen a notch as he inches back. “When I give a direct order, I expect people to listen.”
“Oh wow.” Noah chuckles as he snaps up a cube of cheese. “This is getting good.”
Carlotta elbows him. “And we’ve got box seats, Foxy.”
Noah’s dimples dip in. “Nothing but the best.”
“Stop,” I say, glowering at the two of them. “Everett knows I don’t take direct orders from him.”
“Lemon.” His lips flicker at the tips because it just so happens I’ve been known to take more than a few. “In my courtroom, I’m afraid you, just like everyone else, will have to adhere to my rules.”
Noah shakes his head, a laugh caught in his throat. “This is it, Lot. He’s showing his true colors. I’ll be honest, I didn’t think I’d get a chance to witness it. Don’t worry, Lottie. I can have your marriage dissolved in a vat of legal acid in less than a month. You and the cats can move in with me. The baby is mine anyway.”
I shoot Noah a look that is far more affect than a cease and desist.
“Everett”—I clear my throat—“I respect you both in and out of the courtroom. It’s just that we’re having dinner and the case came up. The other jurors are probably talking about it, too. I mean, did you hear that first witness?” I glance to Carlotta and Noah. “He was the victim’s best friend, and he painted him out to be a real hero. But when Fiona got up there and grilled him about the Elite Entourage, boy, did he change his tune.”
Murder in the Mix Boxed Set 28-30: Cozy Mystery Page 33
