A Taste of Sin

by Jennifer L. Jennings

  “Hector?”

  Emily looked down at her hands. “You were right. You tried to warn me about him, didn’t you?”

  “Did Detective James tell you about him? His past?”

  She nodded. “He was always so polite. I never would have imagined he could do something so horrible. Why did he kill my husband? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  I didn’t have an answer. “Have you called your parents?” I asked.

  Emily shook her head. “Not yet. I’ll call them later today. They weren’t expecting me until tomorrow, anyway.”

  Linda brushed the hair from Emily’s forehead. “How’s your leg, honey?”

  Emily patted the blankets covering her left leg. “Can’t feel a thing right now. I’m sure once the numbness wears off it won’t be pleasant. The doctor told me if the stab wound been an inch higher, it would have severed my femoral artery.”

  “You were very lucky,” I said.

  “Lucky?” She laughed as if that were the understatement of the year.

  Linda leaned in closer to her friend. “Em, come stay with me at my house. I have plenty of room. I’ll take care of you. What do you say?”

  Emily’s lower lip quivered. “Really?”

  “Unless you’d rather go to Florida to stay with your parents.”

  “I hate Florida. I’d much rather stay with you. Are you sure?”

  Linda patted Emily’s hand. “Absolutely.”

  Emily smiled as tears spilled down her cheeks.

  She reminded me of a small child; vulnerable and trusting. Her world had been turned upside down, and she seemed truly grateful for Linda’s offer.

  “Why don’t I let you two hammer out the details,” I said, getting to my feet. “I’m going down to the cafeteria to talk to Detective James. I could use some coffee.”

  Emily grabbed my hand. “I want you to know how much I appreciate all your help, Sarah. I still owe you.”

  “That should be the least of your concerns,” I said. “I just wish things had turned out differently.”

  I found Detective James sitting at a table, reading something on his cell phone, a Styrofoam cup in one hand. He looked up and invited me to join him.

  I pulled out a chair. “Was Emily able to tell you anything more about last night?”

  “Not really,” he said, setting his phone aside. “But maybe something will occur to her once the shock wears off. However, we did find Hector’s red pickup.”

  “Where was it?”

  “Parked half a mile away from the Hodges’s home, at a 7-Eleven. We had it towed to the impound yard. We didn’t find a cell phone but there was a Greyhound bus ticket to Lansing tucked inside the glove box.”

  “Michigan?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, scheduled to leave last night at ten from Boston’s South Station. The ticket was purchased online yesterday morning with a credit card … Paul Hodges’s credit card.”

  I closed my eyes and sighed. “It appears as though Paul wanted Hector to get out of town.”

  “I have a call in to the manager of the halfway house where Julio, aka Hector lived. I spoke with a few of his roommates before I came here. They all basically said the same thing: Hector was a rough character but, according to them, he never spoke of the Hodges or his plans to leave town.”

  I remained quiet, staring at my hands.

  Detective James leaned towards me. “Sarah. You look tired. Why don’t you head home?”

  “I’m waiting for Linda.”

  “Actually, I’d like to talk to Linda alone.”

  “Why?”

  “She was Paul’s therapist and close friend. I want her perspective on Paul’s emotional state in the weeks before his death.”

  I nodded. “Just so you know, Linda probably won’t be much help. She believes Paul is innocent in all of this.”

  “Why? Does she think someone else could have conspired to poison Emily?”

  I shrugged.

  “What about you?” he asked. “It seems like you’ve gotten to know Emily quite well over the past few days. Do you think there’s someone else involved?”

  “Her brother is the only one I can think of but he hasn’t been in the picture for years. She shut him out of her life completely. I don’t have the whole story on that one.”

  “Where does he live?” he asked.

  “No idea. I don’t think Emily does either.”

  “What would he have to gain by hiring someone to poison his sister?”

  “Good question,” I said.

  “Well, Linda will probably be down soon,” I said, getting to my feet. “If you don’t mind, please tell her I went home. She can call me later if she wants.”

  * * *

  It was almost noon by the time I got back from the hospital. I collapsed on the couch, exhausted from the emotional drain associated with Paul’s death. I was about to fall asleep when I remembered a commitment I needed to keep.

  Bernese Mountain dogs are lovable, loyal and as big as a small horse. Chester was no exception. He accosted me with a face-full of kisses before I had a chance to get in the apartment. I took a few minutes to run my fingers through his brown fur. He seemed so content. It served to remind me of the importance of relishing small joys in life.

  “Wanna go for a walk?” I said as I grabbed his leash, knowing full well it was he who would be taking me for a walk.

  He responded by running in a quick circle, tail wagging.

  We strolled through the neighborhood until he found a spot to do his business. As soon as we got underway again, my cell phone chirped in my pocket.

  It was Linda.

  “Sarah, why did you leave the hospital?” she asked without bothering to say hello.

  “I figured you’d want to spend time with Emily,” I replied. “How did your talk go with the detective? Did he ask about Paul’s therapy sessions?”

  “I told him he’d need a warrant for that information. He didn’t seem pleased with me.”

  “Is he going to pursue it?”

  “I don’t think so. I get the feeling he’s already made up his mind that Paul conspired to kill his wife,” she said.

  “All the evidence points to that.”

  “I know, but …it’s still too hard for me to imagine.”

  “Where are you now?” I asked.

  “Fixing up the guest room. I’m going back to the hospital around three to pick Emily up.”

  “You’re a good friend,” I said. “She’s lucky to have you.”

  “I’m going to cancel all my appointments for the next week,” she said. “I’m sure Emily will need help with Paul’s funeral arrangements. I’m not sure what she’ll do with her house. She told me she never wants to go back there.”

  “Call me if you need any help,” I said.

  “Thanks. Well, guess I’ll be in touch.”

  Chapter 23

  After walking Chester, I went home and took a nap. When I woke up around five, it was time to get ready. I chose the sluttiest looking dress in my closet, a cheap black number that I bought years ago on sale. I’d never worn it.

  The dress still fit, but I have no idea whatever possessed me to buy the thing in the first place. My boobs were practically falling out of the bodice and the hemline barely covered my hip-hugging underwear. Did I dare step foot out of my apartment in this demeaning outfit?

  As for my hair, well, I figured Gavin probably wouldn’t be looking at my hair so I didn’t bother to do much with it.

  Gazing in the mirror, I cringed. No self-respecting woman would wear something like this in public. In that sense, it was perfect.

  At the sound of three short beeps and I went to the window and looked outside. Carter’s Buick parked curbside. Time to go.

  “Have you told Max what you’re planning to do tonight?” Carter asked as I got into his car.

  “He’s busy. I’ll tell him when he gets home.”

  “Are you sure Gavin is working the bar tonight?”

 
“I called to make sure he was there.”

  “You seem pretty confident you can pull this off. What makes you so sure Gavin will fall victim to your charms?”

  I gave him an incredulous stare while pointing my thumbs toward my chest. “Are your eyes so bad that you can’t see this dress I’m wearing?”

  Carter chuckled, shaking his head. “Where did you get that outfit, Sluts-R-Us?

  Already feeling self-conscious, I tried to explain. “I picked it up at Goodwill years ago for five bucks. I think it was actually meant to be a tunic instead of a mini-dress.”

  Carter still had the car in park, hand on the stick, as if he had forgotten how to drive.

  “Relax, Carter,” I said, “I can handle this. All I need to do is get Gavin talking. As soon as he does, I’ll skip out of his house. If he tries to get pushy, I’ve got pepper spray.” I pointed to my watch. “Come on, it’s almost eight. I wanted to get there by eight-thirty.”

  Carter faced me. “Sarah, it’s not your fault that Paul is dead. You know that, right?”

  Why had he brought up the Emily case when I was trying to concentrate on the Gavin case? “Can we talk about that later?”

  “I just don’t want you to feel guilty, that’s all.”

  A few minutes later, we pulled into the lot and parked behind the dumpster behind the Rusty Nail. Carter turned to face me with a serious expression. “Listen, don’t underestimate this creep, okay? If he invites you back to his house, assume he’s going to expect something.”

  “That’s why I came prepared,” I said, holding up my clutch.

  “I’m going to be watching you the whole time. I don’t trust that investigator Dylan will be looking out for your best interest.”

  “Well, Gavin may not invite me back to his place at all.” I freshened up my face with a swipe of bright pink lipstick and took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.”

  Carter nodded. “Okay. Off you go.”

  My stomach began churning when I entered the bar. How the hell was I going to capture Gavin’s attention when most of the women in the joint were wearing less clothing than I was?

  Then I remembered an article I’d read somewhere in a magazine. Stroke a man’s ego, and he’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.

  Better get busy stroking.

  The tattooed bartender didn’t recognize me at first but, after a few seconds, I sensed a spark of recognition. A smile creased his pockmarked face. “Hey, if it isn’t the funny lady. You look purdy. Got a hot date tonight?”

  “No,” I said, taking an empty barstool. “Just me. Again.” I gave him a sad face and he laughed.

  “You won’t be alone very long when the regulars see you in that dress.”

  I shrugged off the compliment. “What I need is a stiff drink.”

  “You came to the right place.”

  “Someone told me that the owner of this bar makes the best Rusty Nail. Is that true?”

  He looked offended. “Who, Gavin? That’s debatable.”

  “Hmm. Maybe we should have a blind taste test. I’ll be the judge.”

  The bartender held up a finger like he’d just been offered the challenge of a lifetime. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

  I looked around, taking in the raw energy of the place. Three or four couples were dancing to an early Bruce Springsteen song, but most of the patrons were crowded around a pool match. It sounded like people were placing bets.

  When I turned back, Gavin and the bartender had reappeared.

  Gavin’s eyes got wide when he saw me. “Hey, you’re Danielle’s friend, Sarah, right?”

  “Good memory,” I said, trying not to focus on his absurd comb-over. He probably thought he looked sexy in his black button down shirt and gold chains.

  He grinned. “So, are you ready to be blindfolded?”

  “Ooh. Sounds naughty. I’m up for anything.”

  Gavin’s eyebrows shot up. “I like that.” He grabbed a bar towel and folded it lengthwise. “Allow me.”

  He leaned over the bar and tied it around my head. I almost choked on the smell of stale beer. With my eyes shrouded, my hearing became more acute. Gavin and the bartender were whispering to each other about my cleavage.

  “Don’t make the drinks too strong,” I said. “I get tipsy pretty fast.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Gavin said. “We’ll take good care of you.”

  “I’m sure you will.”

  A moment later the towel came off and I looked down. Two glasses had been placed on the counter in front of me.

  “Well?” Gavin said. “Go ahead.”

  I took a sip of the one on the right and nodded. “Pretty good,” I said. I took a sip of the other one and let the spicy licorice taste linger on my taste buds. It was a little stronger than the first. “I have to say, I like the second one a little better.”

  Gavin hung his head.

  The bartender held out his palm. “Fifty bucks, please.”

  Gavin slapped the money in his hand and made a gesture for him to get lost.

  “Sorry,” I said, leaning toward Gavin conspiratorially. “Truth be told, the one you made was much better. But I didn’t want to hurt that little man’s feelings.”

  My confession made no sense at all, but Gavin smiled with pride just the same. “I know.”

  “So.” I leaned toward him, acting coy. “Are you and Danielle an item? She might get pissed off if she finds out I’m even talking to you.”

  “Why does she have to find out?” he asked.

  “I guess she doesn’t.”

  “It’s not like we’re exclusive,” he said, leaning toward me. “I can date whoever I want.”

  “I get the feeling you’re not the relationship type.”

  He laughed. “Why get tied down? Variety is the key to a happy life.”

  “I like variety, too,” I said.

  “Is that right? Could you be more specific?”

  “I think you know what I’m talking about.”

  Gavin leaned in closer, an eager look in his eyes. “What’s your story? Why is a classy woman like you hanging around a bar all by herself?”

  “I was hoping to meet up with an intelligent, good-looking man. Know any?” I asked.

  He gave me a smug grin and thumbed his chest. “You’re looking at him, sweetheart.”

  I took a few more sips, smiled, and never broke eye contact with him. “You know, I have to admit, when I met you the other night, I guess I felt there might be a connection. Was I wrong?”

  Gavin nodded. “You knew Danielle called in sick tonight, didn’t you?”

  I shrugged. “When do you get off work tonight?” I asked.

  “I can leave whenever I want. I own this place, remember?”

  “So,” I said, playing with the pendant of my necklace. “You live close by?”

  “Why? You want to get out of here?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Where’s your car?” he asked.

  “I got in a fight with my boyfriend. He dropped me off.”

  “Is your boyfriend a big tough guy?”

  “Are you kidding? He’s a wimp. Even I could beat him up.”

  He laughed. “So, he just left you without a ride home?”

  “No big deal. I could call a cab if I need to.” I took another sip of the drink and looked around. “Busy place tonight. You got some kind of pool tournament going on?”

  “Yeah. You play?”

  “No, I’m not very good with balls.”

  He licked his lips and smiled. “Maybe you just need more practice.”

  “Maybe.”

  Gavin leaned over the bar and fondled a strand of my hair. “So what do you do, Sarah?”

  “I'm in between jobs at the moment.”Just trying to figure out my next move.”

  “I have a great suggestion,” he said. “Why don’t you finish your drinks and meet me in the parking lot in five minutes.”

  “Where are we going?”


  “I keep the good alcohol at my house.”

  “I hope you don’t have a dog. I’m allergic.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I keep Cujo in the back yard.”

  Chapter 24

  Gavin’s house didn’t look any different from last week. Party central. He didn’t seem concerned about the porn videos lying around the living room, and I didn’t bring attention to them.

  “Would you like that drink I promised?” he asked, heading to the kitchen.

  I followed close behind. “Sure, what do you have?”

  “Anything you want: beer, wine, tequila, vodka … you name it.”

  Dozens of bottles lined the counter. “Hmm, you weren’t kidding. You certainly enjoy your liquor.”

  “It’s a passion of mine. Owning a bar has its benefits.”

  I set my purse down on a nearby stool, keeping it close, then glanced at my watch. I had been in the house for almost five minutes. I hadn’t noticed the Buick but I figured Carter was out there somewhere keeping tabs. “I see you have quite a collection of high-end scotch.”

  Gavin smiled and picked up one of the bottles. “Have you ever tried thirty year old scotch?”

  “No, but it sounds expensive.”

  “This one retails for over a grand. This one over here, almost two grand.”

  “For one bottle? Jeesh. What would a girl have to do for a glass of that?”

  “How about a kiss for starters?”

  I leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

  He raised a greasy eyebrow. “That’s it?”

  “There’s more where that came from,” I told him.

  “Good. In that case. I’ll let you sample this.” He fondled the neck of the elegant bottle before pouring a small amount into a glass. “This is a Macallan Single Malt. My favorite. There’s only a limited supply of these beauties.”

  “Smells fruity,” I said.

  “Try it.”

  I tipped back the glass and swallowed, trying not to cough. My eyes watered. “Oh my. It’s spicy.”

  He sipped from the same glass. “There’s nothing like it.”

  “Do you serve this at the bar?”

  He shook his head. “What’s the point? Most people won’t spend a hundred bucks on a glass of scotch.”