I felt like my wheels were spinning—even my brother's friends thought he was guilty. I'd have to follow up on Krissy and Nicky's alibis at the time Lydia's earrings had been stolen. At this point, I could only hint about Quint's death being unusual, which meant asking people for alibis wouldn't be easy. Could I prove my brother's innocence that way? If not, perhaps when Fern and I had dinner, she'd have insight about the girls in the Alpha Iota Omega sorority. It was also time to check in with Connor to find out what he'd learned from the coroner about the exact circumstances surrounding Quint's death.
Chapter 10
“Connor is at an offsite meeting presently. Anything I may assist with?” April asked as I bumped into her in the lobby of the Wharton County Sheriff's Office. Her stereotypical tweed blazer and bootcut jeans were nowhere in sight this afternoon. In their place, she wore a pair of high-waisted gray dress pants, a canary-yellow blouse with a brown silk scarf draped across her left shoulder, and a pair of shiny pumps. She looked positively radiant and ready for an evening out on the town.
“It can wait. I don't want to interrupt anything,” I said, watching her look past me as if she was waiting for someone to walk down the hall. “I had peculiar conversations with Gabriel and a few folks in the Nutberry family. Just wanted to compare notes.”
“It's almost like you think you've got a sleuthing partner now that one of my detectives is your former best friend, huh?” She smirked and punched me lightly in the shoulder. “I'm only teasing, don't get too testy on me now. Did you need to talk about it?”
I did, but the timing didn't seem ideal upon running into her. “You're about to head out. I'll wait for Connor. Do you think he'll be back soon?” I checked my watch to confirm I had a couple of hours before meeting Fern for dinner.
“Doubtful. He's with the coroner reviewing the final report on Quint Crawford's death.” April nodded at someone behind me, then waved at the person to join us. “I'm attending a sort of cocktail party this evening, but I can spare a few minutes for you.”
Those were words I didn't expect to hear together—April and a cocktail party. Based on everything she'd ever shared with me in the past, she loathed that type of gathering. I turned my head to discover who approached us and instantly recalled having seen the guy in her car the other day. Was I about to meet the potential boyfriend she'd kept ensconced from everyone?
“I hope you two have a wonderful evening.” I extended my hand toward the guy once he reached us, attempting to contain my shock at his babyface and wide-eyed, innocent expression. If her date were a day over eighteen, I'd cash in my 401K retirement plan and donate it to the least worthy cause I could find. “You will certainly get some looks wherever you're going tonight.” Was April a secret cougar? Who could have guessed that she liked younger guys!
“August, this is Kellan Ayrwick, a…” April said while pointing at me and pausing momentarily, “friend of mine whom I'm working with on a case.”
“Good to meet you, Mr. Ayrwick,” he replied and stretched a confident hand toward me. His platinum blond hair was buzzed short on the sides but had several inches of length slicked straight back with gel on the top of his head. “Call me Augie. She refuses to listen to someone else's preferences, yet I'm in trouble when I don't do whatever she asks of me at home. Such a drag sometimes.”
I liked him already. Anyone who gave April a tough time was golden in my book. “Have you two known each other long? You've got witty banter going on here.” Wait! Did he say they lived together?
“You could say that,” April replied, checking her watch.
Augie glanced at her, rolling his green eyes in grand fashion. “Way longer than I like to think about.”
The guy jumped up another notch for performing my signature move. “You must know a few secrets about her.” I slanted my eyes in April's direction. “In my experience, she can be a real handful.”
“Dude, she's off the charts sometimes. It's like she was born to be a mother hen, ya know?” Augie wrapped a thin, long arm around April and kissed her cheek. “You ready to roll, Momma Dukes?”
That last comment felt like a sucker-punch. Was Augie her son? Who knew she had a kid? She'd never said anything before. Doing the math—we were roughly the same age—April must have been fourteen or fifteen when she'd given birth. I found it amusing they both had first names that matched months of the year beginning with the letter 'A.'
“Is that how you're gonna talk when you meet everyone on campus tonight?” April grabbed Augie by the back of his neck and squeezed hard. “How did I get stuck dealing with the likes of you?”
I feverishly needed to know what was going on more than I could stand. “For the clueless and those ready to vomit, is he your son or your date?”
Augie dropped to his knees and tugged on April's blouse. “Please, Mom, I mean, wifey, don't make me go tonight,” he whined, then cackled so loudly, the police officer manning the front desk shushed him. “Can't you try to be a better sugar momma, love? I'll be a good boy at the party.”
“Kellan… August is… not… my son.” April turned and handed him her keys. “Get the car started, you tool. I'll be out in a few minutes.”
“Thanks for the laughs, man. You made my night.” Augie slapped my back, tossed two buds in his ears, and kicked off some music on his mobile phone before strolling out the front door. They shared identical high, prominent cheekbones that framed their well-structured faces, but he exited with a bit of awkwardness while April had a more confident and determined walk.
“He's my brother. August has been living with me the last five years since everything happened back in Buffalo.” April sat on a nearby wooden bench and waited for me to join her. “My parents were older when August was born. It'd been a surprise, as my mother was in her late forties, and I had just started high school. She had a tough pregnancy but managed to live for another ten years. Unfortunately, when she passed away, my father wasn't capable of taking care of August by himself.”
April shared that her father was an alcoholic who'd started abusing her brother that first year after his wife had lost her battle with a painful illness. He'd blamed August for his wife's death and taken it out on the poor kid who'd been too young to defend himself. April fought their father for two years before the courts finally awarded her custody on her twenty-seventh birthday.
“I'm so sorry. You never said anything,” I replied. April had always been silent regarding her background until I'd learned about her fiancé's death in a drive-by shooting several years ago. “He seems like a strong kid. I like that he pushes back on you.”
“He is a strong kid, but it took time to get him there. He'll be a senior this fall, and we're going to check out local colleges this summer.” April sighed and showed me a picture of him and her from when she'd been granted guardianship. “Tonight is Braxton's meet and greet for prospective students. We're on our way there in a few minutes.”
“You've got this entire life that I know nothing about, April. I feel like I've confessed everything about myself, yet I'm in the dark when it comes to you.” I admired April's ability to protect her privacy. Learning about her relationship with Augie clarified a tremendous amount for me regarding who she was as a human being. “What you've done for him speaks volumes to me.”
“Sometimes I forget I need to be a parent. He's always been smart for his age, especially having to grow up so quickly when our mother died. Our father took advantage of the situation.” April put the picture away and grabbed one of my hands. “We're not all that different, you and me. It's hard to accept that as a fact, but when I saw you with Emma for the first time, I knew I'd been too rigid those early months.”
The surrounding air seemed to contain a magic that desperately pined to pull us closer together. Part of me suppressed a desire to gently caress April's cheek and experience a physical connection like we had when our fingers brushed against one another last month. Could something be developing between us? April smiled when I cupped her
slender fingers inside mine and looked directly at her. I was considering whether to lean in to kiss her, but a phone rang somewhere nearby.
“I think that's you.” She separated from me and pointed to my leather satchel.
I jerked out of my temporary trance and reached for the device. It was the phone Cristiano had bestowed upon me earlier that week. “It's Las Vargas.”
“Answer it. Hurry up, maybe we're closer to solving one of our dilemmas,” April encouraged.
I clicked accept. “This is Kellan.”
“It's Francesca. I'm glad to hear your voice.”
My eyes opened wide and filled with excitement and fear. I was happy to know she was alive, but the reality of the situation had become fully apparent at that moment. “Are you okay?” I asked Francesca, before turning to April to whisper the name of who was on the phone.
“Yes, Cristiano has only permitted me a minute to talk to you. He's standing here too and wants you to know he's aware of your current location.” Francesca's voice was calm and collected, as though she weren't afraid of what was happening to her. “Don't do anything foolish.”
“Is he going to let you come home soon? What can you tell me?” I asked, looking from April to the floor when I couldn't settle on the most comfortable place to stare.
There was a moment of silence followed by a muted conversation before Cristiano hopped on the line. “I've fulfilled my promise to let you speak with Francesca. Now that you know she's alive, I must ask… have you fulfilled your promise to notify the Castiglianos with my instructions?”
“I told them, Cristiano. I can't force them to respond, but they understood your message.” I switched seats so April could listen to the conversation with me. Our ears were pressed together in another unexpected intimate moment as we waited for his response.
“Excellent. Francesca convinced me that I could count on you. You shouldn't need to wait much longer. I'm arranging for a discussion early next week. The Castiglianos have something I want, and if they deliver it to you, we can put an end to this inconvenient situation.”
April pulled out her phone and typed the word where on the screen.
“Will you be coming back to Braxton for this discussion? Do I need to meet you somewhere?” I asked, trying to ignore the pleasing tickle of April's fragrant hair against my cheek.
“For such a clever man, you certainly miss the obvious, Kellan. I never left Braxton after our last conversation in your office.” He then whispered something I couldn't hear. “Francesca asked me to tell you that Emma looks happy at Chuck E. Cheese and that she misses seeing her daughter every day.”
I closed my eyes and dropped my head to my lap. I knew Cristiano was spying on my every move, but did he bring Francesca with him to monitor me too? “Where are you? Why can't we just meet immediately and solve this?” A fire crept inside my body, threatening to incinerate everything around us. Why couldn't they just leave Emma alone? While April sent a text message on her phone to someone on her team to get to Chuck E. Cheese immediately, I felt her rubbing my upper back to calm me down. I turned my head and mumbled a thank you.
“A few more days, and this should all be over, Kellan. I'm sorry that kidnapping Francesca had to be my insurance policy, but if her parents do the right thing, we will all get what we want. I'll be in touch.” Cristiano abruptly disconnected the phone call.
“Wait!” I shouted, despite knowing he'd already hung up. “This is a nightmare. Every time I think we can get back to normal, that guy scares the crap out of me by following Emma around.”
“I've got an unmarked vehicle pulling into the restaurant parking lot. Have faith, Kellan. Your daughter will be fine, and we'll catch the people responsible for causing the war.” April grabbed my shoulders and forced me to face her directly. “Trust me. I've got your back.”
We waited in silence for five minutes before one of her officers confirmed he'd just missed two people walking out the side door of the restaurant. They'd gotten into a limousine and pulled away in a hurry, but Emma had been unharmed and completely unaware of their presence. April said, “Emma's happily playing with her friends as if she had no cares in the world. Do you want to visit her? I can drop you off on my way to Braxton.”
I shook my head. Francesca would never let Cristiano harm Emma. “It's okay. I'm just frustrated. I might swing by before dinner with a friend of mine. You should go to Braxton and help Augie decide if it's where he wants to attend college in another year.”
April nodded. “I'll have my cell phone in case you need anything. Are you sure you don't want to talk about your brother or what happened with the Nutberry family?”
I briefly filled in April on my conversations with Lydia, Tiffany, and Gabriel, excluding the part about my father knowing something important. I needed to speak with him before revealing that piece of news. “Is Connor going to arrest Gabriel for the jewelry thefts or Quint's murder?”
“Not yet. We don't have sufficient evidence, and I probably shouldn't be telling you what I'm about to tell you, but you could use a bit of good news,” April replied as she stood to leave. “We lifted a set of prints from the main power source to the cable car. We don't know to whom they belong, but they weren't a match to your brother's. We had his on file from the George Braun case last month.”
I breathed a small sigh of relief. “That's helpful. I'm sure the prints could belong to any number of electricians, right?”
“Actually, there were only two sets—Quint's and the unknown person's. We're strategizing how to check everyone involved. I can't tell you everything, but a few of the folks in this group of friends aren't being totally honest.” April indicated she would check on me later that evening.
As she left the building, I reflected on the changes beginning to develop in our relationship. When we'd first met, we were like two barnyard cats vying for territory. During the last three months, I'd helped her solve several cases and gotten on her bad side more times than I cared to remember. In the last few weeks, ever since she'd begun assisting with Francesca's kidnapping, things had been pleasant. I considered her a friend; someone I could trust to look out for my welfare. After the moment we shared today, I knew something stronger was percolating between us. I couldn't let myself process it until things calmed down. Wild gale-force storms tossed us about, and until this tornado dropped us on safe ground, it would be best to keep anything more serious from blossoming.
* * *
An hour later, after verifying for myself that Emma was okay, I drove back downtown to meet Fern at Simply Stoddard for dinner. The new eatery had a prime central location on Restaurant Row overlooking the Finnulia River, where a gorgeous octagonal cedar-shake windmill and cleverly arranged outdoor teak furniture welcomed guests in the summer and early fall.
I arrived before Fern and informed the hostess of the reservation. After learning our table wasn't ready, I sat at the cherrywood bar and ordered a Jack Daniels and ginger ale, minus the ice. It only diluted the drink, and I always quivered when ice banged my teeth. As the bartender handed me the cocktail, one of the owners, Karen Stoddard, approached from the opposite side of the room where a newly renovated, top-of-the-line kitchen with a traditional brick oven and delectable pastry counter teased customers. Karen's bright neon blouse and pencil skirt glimmered as she shimmied through the narrow spaces between two tables.
“It's nice to see you again, Kellan. I'm glad to see we can put our past differences aside and coexist in the same town,” she quipped. Newly frosted tips accentuated her stylish shag hairstyle, an odd yet bold statement on a woman whose snub nose was all too prominent of a feature.
“I couldn't agree more. Your husband is a talented chef, and I always prefer to find common ground with someone rather than bicker over the petty things. How're Cheney and Sierra doing?”
“My kids are well. Sierra's back in London, and Cheney is happy to be finishing the cable car project. I'm hopeful he's capitulated on wooing Helena. She's a fine girl, but Cheney
needs to focus on getting his life in order,” Karen cautioned me, then told the bartender my drink was on the house.
“I appreciate it. I happen to agree. Helena should focus on herself. She's got a rambunctious side that needs to simmer down before she gets involved in a committed relationship,” I consented.
“Exactly. She was in here earlier today with a few women. There was a shouting match and drinks being thrown across the table. I had to kick them all out,” Karen explained, shaking her head and groaning. “For four women quickly approaching thirty, it was very immature.”
“Really? Do you happen to know whom she was with?” I assumed it was her sorority class who'd been discussing the jewelry thefts and Quint's death. Tiffany had mentioned needing to escape a brunch that wasn't going too well.
“I knew two of the girls, Imogene Grey and Krissy Stanton. I overheard them arguing about calla lilies and who stole whose boyfriend over the years. Trivial stuff,” Karen said, as if she couldn't understand what it was like to get catty with a girlfriend.
I described Tiffany Nutberry, and Karen confirmed she was the fourth girl. “I appreciate the update. It explains a lot.” The girls had undoubtedly gotten together to compare information and agree on a story in case anyone else asked more questions. Tiffany had been extremely angry that one of them had fessed up about the sorority ritual.
As Karen left, Fern waved to me from the hostess desk. I dropped a few singles on the bar, met her at our table, and ordered another drink. We chatted about her day and the upcoming wedding. Her son Arthur was marrying my Aunt Deirdre's fiancé's sister, Jennifer Paddington. They'd begun dating earlier that year and when Jennifer had learned she was pregnant, Arthur proposed to her. It was an unusual match for their clan. Arthur was my age and a tad on the nerdy side while Jennifer was in her mid-forties and from a wealthy family. I needed to speak with Jennifer to find out the circumstances of the jewelry theft at the estate. She'd lost an expensive family watch in the current round of burglaries.
Mistaken Identity Crisis: Death On The Cable Car (Braxton Campus Mysteries Book 4) Page 14
