“You have to move on, Court. You’re stuck in a self-destructive cycle. It’s been a long time.” She stepped in close. Forced a hand back onto his shoulder.
“What exactly, Britt, am I supposed to do? To move on. Everyone keeps telling me to move on. Dad, you, everyone. Move on, Court. I’ve moved from San Francisco, to get away from all those places … all those places we ate, played, drank, lived. Loved.”
Her hand on his shoulder was warm, gentle. He resisted the urge to shrug it off again. The truth was the touch was comforting and familiar. Not the kind of familiar he was craving or needing, but it was better than nothing.
“You don’t forget, sweetie. I’m not telling you to forget. You’ve got to remember, acknowledge what you’ve lost and accept it isn’t going to come back. Not like you had it before.”
“Easy to say. Easy to think you could do it. If you lost them all, do you think you’d be able to move on?” He spat the last two words out. Saying them felt bitter in his mouth.
“I think I understand how awful it would be. Worse than losing Mom. Don’t forget, I loved Amanda and Bailey, too. They were a big part of my life as well. You don’t get to hog the grief all to yourself.”
She always brought up Mom. Parents were supposed to die first. Losing Mom had been painful, but after having lost Amanda and Bailey in such close succession, in such terrible ways, losing her had been easy in comparison. He had known the stroke would repeat itself and take her. He had flown down to say goodbye. She’d held his hand and told him everything would be fine, and he’d believed her. And it was.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have come today.” He ran his hands through his hair.
They hugged until his brief anger at her melted away like it always did, turning into a burning shame for having yelled at her.
She held him at arm’s-length, fingers tight on his upper arms. Britt and he had always been close. Closer to each other than to any of their other siblings.
“Nonsense. It’s only through the happy times that we can counterbalance the bad times. And, I’m going to apologize ahead of what’s going to happen next.”
“Oh, Britt, please, not tonight. I’ve had a shitty day.”
“Yes, tonight. I’ve tried to get the two of you together for weeks. I didn’t think you’d get caught into super sadness when you walked in the door. I usually hide the photo when you’re coming.”
“You mean you normally leave it up? You’ve had it for a while?”
“Ages. I hide it between a couple of books when you’re coming over. I got too busy today and forgot.”
“Leave it out then. Because that’s sort of silly, you know?”
“Not if you’re going to get all gloomy like that whenever you see it.”
He took hold of her upper arms, leaning in to give her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll get used to it if you leave it up, but we need to talk about you trying to set me up all the time.” She hid her anger well, but something had just clicked. Her attempts at setting him up were some sort of whacked-out punishment. She still blamed him for Amanda’s death.
“We can talk next week sometime.”
Court wrapped his arms around his sister. “You need to stop trying to replace Amanda. I’ll find someone when I’m ready. Okay?”
Britt pulled out of his embrace, tugging at his arm to follow her. “Come on. Let’s go into the kitchen.”
20
Court followed Britt into the kitchen. Two women he didn’t know were chopping veggies at the professional-sized butcher block serving as the kitchen’s central focus.
Britt’s husband, Pat, had spent six months of evenings and weekends remodeling when they first bought the place. He was good with his hands, and it showed. They’d removed the wall to the formal dining room to create a gracious kitchen with a family-friendly nook.
“Court, I’d like you to meet Candace and Madeline. Candace’s son is in Morgan and Mandy’s class. Madeline works with Patrick.” Britt sounded like Monty Hall announcing the choices behind various curtains on Let’s Make a Deal. Except Britt would only be trying to hook him up with one person at a time.
The two women slowed their chopping to a pace safe enough to look up at him. It took Court about ten seconds to figure out which one had been promised an introduction. Candace’s face bore the hallmarks of a tired mom—no makeup, untamed hair sticking up at funky angles, a few wrinkles at the lips. Her clothing was decidedly lumpy and frumpy. She was a pretty woman, but she also had the general aura of being settled into her life, happy, content, not looking.
Madeline, on the other hand, was dressed casually with enough detail that showed a level of interest without coming across as desperate. Her jeans fit snugly around her hips and upper legs. The camisole she wore under a tailored sweater showed the soft mounds of her breasts with a cleft of cleavage that required some major support. She wore a gold chain with a small key, a gold ring and a charm of a pair of little red socks threaded through as a pendant. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun that left free strands drifting around her face in a soft halo.
He shook hands with each of them as Britt pulled out another cutting board and handed him a knife. The smell of meat on the grill drifted into the room as Britt slipped outside.
Picking up a zucchini and placing it on the board, Court sliced into it and addressed Madeline. “So, did my big sister tell you she was going to introduce us today?”
Madeline let out a laugh-snort and moved a pile of freshly sliced carrots onto a serving platter. “She told me about you a long time ago, but said you were too messed up to date anyone. Then, last week, she invited us to the party, and casually mentioned you’d be here. That’s all.”
“She was that blatant, eh?”
Candace picked up the tray of prepped veggies from the center of the counter. “I think this is my cue to leave you two alone.” She swept out of the room with a grin on her face.
Madeline started in on a tomato. “You know Britt better than I do. She told me to come to the party today to check you out. To see if I was at all interested.”
“Wow. I feel the need to apologize for the way my sister does things.”
“She’s direct. I like her.”
Court paused in his chopping so he could read her face. “Exactly how direct was she?”
Madeline tilted her head to one side considering the question. Her eyes rounded a bit, understanding the subtext in his question. “As direct as possible.” She gave him a long head-to-toe inspection, her eyes lingering at his chest before swinging back up to meet his face. “I’m cool. If I get into a person, I’m into that person, ya know?”
“So, I pass the initial visual test?”
She nodded as she moved thin tomato slices to a tray. “I would be willing to go out on a date, see what happens from there.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
They both laughed.
“I think so,” Madeline said. “You like movies?”
Court paused in his chopping. Movies were one of the few diversions he indulged in. Most of his time off was spent in a theater or home alone, streaming video. Madeline asked it in a tentative, gently probing question, betraying an underlying guilt she had for liking movies a little too much. The kind of guilt that had her afraid to bring up the subject lest she came across a bit freaky. The way people who used drugs ask around the question before offering any up for use so they come across as less addicted than they are.
“Don’t tell me,” he said. “You’re some sort of movie buff who tends to go on and on about a movie until your friends tell you to shut up already?”
She stopped chopping and stood stock still. “Wow. Britt told me you were a detective, am I that obvious? I admit to having a thing for black-and-white movies.”
“Did you know they’re doing a Hitchcock triple header at the Egyptian tomorrow?”
A fresh smile lit up her whole face and made the blueness of her eyes brighten and sparkle. “I was plannin
g on going.”
“Oh.” A sudden disappointment stabbed at him.
“Alone. I mean,” she added quickly. “I was going to go alone, unless I could find someone to go with me.” She looked at him through her eyelashes, making the invitation clear.
Disappointment shifted into something else as his insides tensed. Conflicting senses vying for his attention. This was a good thing. A common interest. “Sounds like a perfect first date to me.” Had he actually made a date for tomorrow? This wouldn’t go down well at work. He’d find a way to get away for the afternoon. A triple feature might be pushing it. For the first time in years, he was hoping an investigation would hit a huge wall.
He caught himself staring into the cleavage he’d admired earlier. She was an attractive woman. They’d found a common interest in record time and already made a date. Maybe Britt’s aim was getting better.
They carried trays heaped with chopped veggies outside and into the full melee of the party. Kids ran around the grassy area, tossing a Frisbee. The darkening fall sky and cool air didn’t slow anyone. The sun had been out in abundance all day, and its intensity had infected everyone.
He grabbed two bottles of beer from the cooler, and handed one to Madeline. She took a long drink from it. He was about to ask her what it was like to work with Pat when a bright blue neon disc hit him in the thigh hard enough to bruise.
A little girl ran up to him, grinning wide with a gap-toothed smile.
“Sorry, mister. I am not so good at aiming yet,” she said whistling on all of her ’s’s.
Glad he hadn’t cursed up a blue streak, Court forced a casual grin and rubbed at his leg. “You sure have a strong arm.” He handed her the Frisbee.
She grabbed it from him, spun around and threw the Frisbee backhand toward a boy. It went over the boy’s head, landing in the tall shrub screening the yard from the neighbors.
Her hands flew to her head, grasping one beribboned pigtail in each. “Oh, that wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”
The boy jumped up, grabbing at the errant disc, but he couldn’t reach the top of the greenery. Court put a hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I can get it.”
He loped across the yard, pulling the Frisbee from the shrub. He handed it to the original target before returning to Madeline. The little girl had moved in closer to her, and Madeline’s arms draped over her shoulder.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Madeline was saying. “Why don’t you get some punch and try again. It takes lots of practice to learn how to aim.”
“But, Mom, I’ve been trying for ages.”
Court stopped a few feet away as he heard them talking. Mom? It struck him as both absurd and logical at the same time. Divorced? Then he remembered the ring around her neck. Widow. Crap. Well, maybe he could focus on her baggage instead of his own. That would be moving on in some small way, wouldn’t it?
He finished the distance between them at a slower pace, trying to figure out the best way to handle things. He breathed in and out slowly three times, letting it go for now. It wasn’t like anyone Britt had set him up with had worked out. Except for Amanda.
“I never got good at throwing one of those things,” he said as he approached them. “I was more a basketball kind of guy.”
Madeline stepped back, her hands up in the air. “Basketball? Oh. That’s incredibly cliché. Please tell me you are not vegetarian.”
Damn it. She was funny, too. So simple, so perfectly on target. Maybe a date or two to explore the whole situation wouldn’t be a bad idea. He held his elbow out to her in invitation. “How would you like one of Pat’s famous burgers?”
21
The evening was warmer than usual, and the outside fireplaces pushed out a lot of heat. Court went inside to toss his coat over a chair in the kitchen as Cami came in through the front door.
“You made it.” He lifted his arms for a hug, and she gave him a quick one and a kiss on his cheek.
She peeked around his shoulder to make sure no one else was around. “Yeah. Sometimes I surprise myself. So, who’d she set you up with?”
“Someone named Madeline. We’re going to the Hitchcock triple header tomorrow.”
Cami gave Court two thumbs up. “Quick work, dude. Though, will you have time with the big case and all?”
“Can’t do much during the weekend. Got a few things we can do in the morning, but I’m betting I’ll be free in time.” He pointed toward the back and tilted his head. “I think Pat’s got a couple of burgers left. Come on out.”
Court was surprised she had bothered showing at all. The party was already winding down, and folks with the youngest kids had already left. He checked his watch. Eight thirty. There was a lot of time left, but he didn’t think Pat and Britt were night owls any more.
He grabbed two beers from the cooler and walked over to where he’d left Madeline. Her daughter was leaning against her, droopy-eyed, with her lips wrapped tight around her thumb.
He offered a beer to Madeline but she shook her head.
“Sorry, we need to get home. It’s way past her bedtime.” She kissed her daughter on top of her head and smiled at him.
“Hey, can I get your number? I’m working a case, and if something comes up, I might have to cancel tomorrow afternoon.”
Madeline started to give him her number, but he realized his phone was in the jacket he’d left in the kitchen.
“Give me your number, and I’ll text you.” She gave him a deliciously wicked grin. “Read it later. And, I’ve already found a sitter for tomorrow. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, Court.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek before leading her daughter back inside.
Court put a hand to his cheek where her lips had caressed him. Wow. It had been a tiny peck, but so simple and sincere. So natural. He watched the two of them until they were out of sight through the kitchen and beyond. Cami passed them on her way to the grill where Pat was still holding court.
Britt came up from behind him, startling him a little. Beer oozed over the top of the bottle Madeline had refused before leaving. He captured the foam in his mouth. Great. Now he was drinking two-fisted.
“So, brother dearest, what do you think?”
22
Court felt like a schoolkid who’d skipped a couple of periods before sneaking back on campus. Ivy was at her desk, chin on one hand, while the other worked her mouse. It wasn’t like he’d been gone forever.
She didn’t acknowledge his presence when he came up behind her, but kept her eyes focused on her screen. He waited patiently behind her until she was done, holding the paper plate with a piece of cake out as a bribe.
“Want to tell me what happened in Stensland’s office?” She wouldn’t face him.
“Yes,” he said, not adding any more.
She spun her chair around, holding up both hands moving in a ‘give it to me’ gesture. “Well, come on, Pearson. What’s going on?” She eyed the cake.
Telling her Stensland had sworn him to secrecy would only intensify her curiosity. By not telling her, would he become a deeper part of whatever it was? Not including her would keep her free and clear, even if it did piss her off. No doubt she would accuse him of paternalism, or some other misogynistic shit. “Stensland cleared all the mystery clients with the burner phones. We’re to drop them from our list as completed.”
She stood up, closing the distance between them planting her feet shoulder width apart, hands on hips. She studied his face for a long, uncomfortable moment.
“Please, Ivy, don’t push me on this one.” Court hoped Stensland was protecting someone out of misguided politics and nothing more. He liked to think he was working for someone who knew where to draw the line. Until he was sure, he wasn’t going to compromise his partner, regardless of their personal relationship, or lack thereof.
She turned her head and considered Stensland’s darkened office for a moment before reaching for the cake. “Okay. Okay. Fine. For now.” She grabbed her yellow t
ablet and handed it to him. “I spent all evening following up on the nine people Ashena was able to trace. One was Drummond. The others had varying responses to my call, but none of them were particularly interested in talking to me until I got kind of pissy with them. Five gave me alibis for Wednesday night I have verified over the phone. This leaves us three suspects from her client list. If we’re really assuming all nine of the others are clear.”
She dug the purple fork into the thick frosting and chocolate layers, cutting off a big bite.
“For now, at least,” Court said, hoping she’d let it drop. The yellow sheet was covered in notes, a chart with the name and number of each suspect in one column, the alibi given for each night in the next column, and the names and numbers of people she had called to verify the alibis in the last. This must have taken her the whole evening. He’d have to make it up to her in some way. Maybe he shouldn’t have run off to the party. .
She tapped the cake with her fork. “Man, this is amazing. Your sister made this?” She shoved another bite in before continuing. “At the top is Carroll Mullins, a high-level executive at Microsoft. The second is Giovanni Duffy. He was the mayor’s most recent campaign manager. He’s working for a GOP Senate candidate now. Neither have answered their phones or called back. I left them messages giving them the choice of coming in or letting us pick them up from their homes sometime tomorrow.”
“A choice anyone would love. What about this third guy? Jim Schorr.”
She took her time scraping the crumbs off the plate before answering, wiping at her mouth with a tissue she’d pulled off her desk. “So … Jim Schorr is an ex-Amazon exec with a start-up in Fremont.” She paused, sucked in her lower lip between her teeth and closed her eyes before continuing. “The problem is, I know this guy. He’s a member of my synagogue. His son and mine were in the same cohort. I can’t even begin to believe he’s into this, or that he’d kill anyone. I’m going to have to have you follow up on him since I can’t. Total COI.”
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