“Fair enough.”
Ivy was in the lead when they rounded the corner and Jack increased his pace to keep up. He smacked into her back because she’d ceased moving forward and was rooted to her spot, forcing him to grab her shoulders to keep her from stumbling forward.
“What the … ? Honey, what’s going on?”
Ivy didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she merely inclined her chin toward a man who was peering behind the dumpster. He wore a dapper plaid jacket, all bright and happy pastels. His brown hair was perfectly styled, and he wasn’t looking at them.
“Can I help you?” Jack asked, automatically putting his arm out to sweep Ivy out of the line of fire.
“Miles?” Moss stepped forward, confusion etched on his blocky features.
The man turned quickly, seemingly surprised to find people watching him. “Oh, Rick, I’m so glad it’s you. I’m having the worst possible day.”
Jack glanced between the two men, confused. “Is he part of your security team?” he asked Moss.
“No.” Moss vehemently shook his head. “This is Miles Waltrip. He’s one of the men vying for Éclair’s heart on the show. He’s a local and knows the area. He took off to search before you guys showed up.”
“I take it you’ve already searched this area and come up empty then,” Jack noted.
“I just began searching,” Waltrip countered.
“And he didn’t come up empty,” Ivy added on a whisper, squeezing Jack’s hand.
Jack flicked his eyes to her, confused. “What?”
“Did she say something?” Moss queried.
Jack stared hard at Ivy before he realized what was really bothering her. She was seeing something only she had the power to see. “Did you look behind the dumpster, Mr. Waltrip?” he asked, his heart sinking.
“Of course not. Why would I do that?” Waltrip appeared befuddled by the question.
“I think we should,” Jack said. “In fact … I’ll do it.” He gave Ivy a reassuring hand squeeze before stepping forward. “Clear out. I’ve got it from here.”
Four
Éclair Sheridan was indeed behind the dumpster. Jack knew it before he looked, but he managed to keep his emotions in check all the same.
Moss snapped into action when Jack announced what he’d found and immediately tried to take over the crime scene investigation, something Jack had to disavow him of straightaway.
“You might be head of security for the production team, but this is now a murder investigation,” he explained. “That means it falls under my purview.”
“How do you know she was murdered?” Moss challenged.
“And are you sure she’s dead?” Waltrip asked. “I mean … perhaps she’s merely sleeping off a night of drinking.”
Ivy shot him a murderous look. “Do you often sleep off a night of drinking behind a dumpster?”
“I do not.” Waltrip was soft spoken. “I’m not her, though. I have no idea which way her normal inclinations lean.”
Ivy narrowed her eyes. “You look familiar. Why is that?”
“I’m Miles Waltrip.” He said it in such a manner that Ivy had the feeling he was used to people falling at his feet simply because he had a recognizable name.
She looked to Moss for an explanation.
“He’s a millionaire,” Moss explained without further prodding. “He’s local. One of the Charlevoix Waltrips.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?” Jack asked, his eyes on the body behind the dumpster. He didn’t like what he was seeing … or the fact that Waltrip was so close and yet seemingly hadn’t discovered her. That didn’t make sense to him.
“They own a bunch of car dealerships,” Ivy volunteered. “They’re relatively well known. I mean … they’re not celebrities or anything, but they’re about as close as we have to offer in this area.”
“We’re definitely celebrities,” Waltrip argued. “Why else would I be part of this farce?”
Ivy wrinkled her nose and focused on Jack. “Do you know how she died?”
“I have a pretty good idea.” He held up his hand when she moved to draw closer. “No, honey. There’s no need for you to see this.”
Ivy took him at his word and stilled. “What do you want me to do?”
“Go out to the end of the alley,” he replied without hesitation. “Call Brian, tell him what we found. We need to close off the area and get the medical examiner in here. He’ll know what to do.”
“Okay.” Ivy licked her lips, uncertain. “I want to stay and help, but I’m guessing you would prefer it if I left you to do your job.”
He smiled, although the sentiment didn’t make it all the way to his eyes. “I’m sure you will help … but later. For now, I need Brian and the medical examiner. You should head to work. Go ahead and take my truck. I’ll have Brian drop me off later.”
“No, I’ll leave you your truck. I can call my dad … or Max. You might need your truck.”
“It’s going to be okay,” he reassured her, mentally cursing Moss and Waltrip for crowding their moment. “I’ll be in touch when I have more information.”
“Yeah. Make sure you are.”
BRIAN WAS GRIM WHEN HE joined his partner twenty minutes later. He was alone, although the medical examiner was only minutes out, and he’d instructed two junior officers to cordon off the area. Moss and Waltrip had been moved to the other side of the tape, and neither looked happy to be cut out of the investigation.
“What do you have?” Brian asked, peering around the corner of the dumpster and grimacing. “Oh, geez.”
“She looks to have been beaten,” Jack replied, sober. “Her face looks like one big hematoma. I don’t see any blood or anything, but I bet there’s a head wound in there.”
“That would be my guess, too,” Brian said. “Where’s Ivy?”
“I sent her to work. There’s nothing more she can do here.”
“And she willingly left?” That sounded unlikely to Brian. Ivy wasn’t the sort to give in and do as others wanted … even if the one asking was Jack.
“We had observers.” Jack inclined his chin toward Moss and Waltrip.
“That’s Miles Waltrip,” Brian observed. “I recognize him from those commercials they do for the car dealerships. He’s often the star. Well, him and his sister. People make jokes because they almost act as if they’re flirting in the commercials.”
“Yes, incest jokes are always funny,” Jack drawled.
Brian snorted. “That’s hardly important considering what we’re dealing with. Why is he here?”
“According to Moss, he’s one of the contestants. He took off on his own to search before we put the teams together.”
“You don’t believe him?”
Jack held out his hands and shrugged. “He was looking in the area around the dumpster when we arrived. He claims he didn’t see her. I just don’t know if he’s telling the truth. On the other hand, he doesn’t strike me as the sort who would beat a woman to death.”
“We need to get the medical examiner in here so we can get some answers.”
“You read my mind.”
IVY KNEW JACK WANTED HER to head to the nursery. She would be safe there, away from the ugliness murder wrought. She couldn’t turn away, though, and she needed a better feel for the men in Sheridan’s group if she expected to help. Now, with news spreading of Éclair’s death, she wanted to see their reactions.
One of Moss’s security men made the announcement. Ivy didn’t catch a name, but the man was calm when he delivered the news. He didn’t appear overly affected. Ivy supposed that was a byproduct of his job.
Some of the men seemed surprised, a few even shocked. Most of them, though, were more blasé than anything else. The first thing they did was turn to Donahue for answers regarding what would happen to the show. They were more interested in their own self-interests than a woman’s death. To Ivy, that summed up exactly why she was disdainful of Hollywood.
“This is terrible.
” One of the men, a handsome individual with a ridiculously strong jaw and a gorgeous mane of hair stepped next to Ivy and shot her a charming smile. He didn’t look as if he was grieving at the news. “Are you with the production company? Do you think they’ll continue the show?”
Ivy managed to keep from barking at him, but just barely. “I’m not with the production company.”
“No?” He seemed doubtful. “Who are you?”
“Ivy Morgan.” She extended a hand because it seemed like a thing to do. “I live in Shadow Lake. I was part of the search team.”
“Oh, that’s right.” He beamed at her. “I’m Jordan Steele. I didn’t get a chance to meet you, but I recognize you because of the hair.”
Ivy managed to keep her smile in place, but it took effort. “Yes, my hair definitely stands out in this area.”
“So does that face … and that body … and that … .”
“I’m engaged,” Ivy blurted out, instantly regretting how blunt she sounded.
If Jordan was offended, he didn’t show it. “No problem.” He held up his hands in mock capitulation. “I already assumed you were with the guy you arrived with. He was fairly territorial where you were concerned.”
“He was not.” Ivy was offended on Jack’s behalf. “He doesn’t get territorial.”
“It’s a man thing. Other men pick up on it. He simply sent out a vibe that you were already taken.”
“Well … I don’t believe he did that. It doesn’t really matter, though. That’s hardly important given everything that’s happened today.”
“Definitely not.” Jordan was agreeable as he folded his arms over his chest. “So … were you with the group that found her?”
“I was.” Ivy saw no reason to lie. “She was behind the bar over there.” She gestured vaguely. There was only one bar and Jordan would be able to see it without taxing himself.
“Do you know how she died?”
Ivy hesitated. She knew what Jack told her, but she was fairly certain he wouldn’t want her spreading it around. “I don’t,” she said after a beat. “Jack didn’t say. I’m not sure he knows. They’re waiting for the medical examiner.”
“It looks like the medical examiner is arriving now,” another man announced, moving to join them. He was much fairer than Jordan, but he had the same movie-star good looks. He was so attractive, in fact, that he made Ivy feel uncomfortable. “When will we know what’s happening with the show?”
“This is Blaine Crawford,” Jordan supplied. “Blaine, this is Ivy Morgan. She lives here. She’s not part of the production crew.”
“Get out.” Blaine’s gaze was heavy as it washed over Ivy. “You don’t look like a townie.”
Ivy took offense at the remark. “Oh, yeah? What does a townie look like?”
Blaine pointed without hesitation, and when Ivy shifted her gaze, she almost chortled at the woman he gestured toward. “That looks like a townie.”
“That is Maisie Washington,” Ivy said, her lips curving as she watched the librarian – who had a bit of a reputation when it came to men – try to ingratiate herself with several of the show participants. “You’re right. She’s a total townie.”
“See.” Blaine’s grin was charming. “You can’t be offended that I assumed you were part of the production team. That was a compliment.”
“She’s engaged,” Jordan volunteered. “She’ll yell it at you in a second if you keep trying to hit on her.”
“I am engaged,” Ivy agreed, lifting her hand and wiggling her fingers so the men would have no problem seeing the ring. “Happily so.”
“The big guy who was with you this morning, right?” Blaine surmised. “I should’ve seen that coming. He was marking his territory all over the place whenever anyone dared look at you.”
Ivy’s forehead creased. “He was not. Why do you guys keep saying that?”
“It’s a guy thing,” Blaine offered, repeating Jordan’s earlier words. “You can always tell when a guy is warning away other guys. There’s a certain … scent.”
“A very distinctive scent,” Jordan agreed.
“Okay, now you guys are just messing with me.” Despite herself, Ivy found the men charming. She was comfortable enough with them to ask the obvious question. “So … did you know Éclair?”
Jordan shook his head. “We weren’t allowed to meet her. That was supposed to be part of the gimmick. You meet on the date and if you hit it off, then supposedly love is supposed to follow.”
“And did you honestly believe that was going to happen?”
“No. I just wanted to be on television.”
“Me, too,” Blaine admitted. “I always wanted to be an actor and there aren’t that many opportunities in Michigan. I thought it might be a fun way to garner exposure.”
“If you want to be an actor, why not move to Los Angeles … or New York?”
“Because my family is here,” Blaine replied. “My father threatened to cut me off if I embarrassed him by becoming an actor. He didn’t say anything about being a reality star.”
Something occurred to Ivy. “Wait … are you from a rich family, too? I know Miles Waltrip is here. Are you from a locally-famous family?”
He grinned. “Crawford Orchards.”
“Wow.” They were an absolutely huge outfit and Ivy recognized the name right away. “So … you are rich. What about you, Jordan?”
“My family is full of lawyers,” he replied.
“The ones on television who only take million-dollar cases?”
He nodded.
Things clicked into place for Ivy. “All the men were rich … and so was Éclair. Although … Jack’s not rich.”
“Who is Jack?” Jordan looked around, confused.
“My fiancé. That Carson Prickwillow guy approached him yesterday to be part of the show. Apparently Éclair saw him in the park with me and wanted him to participate.”
Blaine snickered. “Just because Éclair wanted it, that doesn’t mean it was going to happen. Carson has power in name only. The show was already cast.”
Ironically, Ivy felt insulted on Jack’s behalf. “Well … that was kind of mean then. What would’ve happened if Jack wanted to be a part of the show?”
“Unless he has seven figures in his bank account, it wasn’t going to happen,” Jordan replied. “Besides, he has you. Why would he possibly want to be part of a lame show when he already has the best prize?”
“Oh, that was ridiculous.” Ivy made an exaggerated face. “I can’t believe you actually said that.”
“I can’t either,” he admitted. “It just slipped out. Although … I would totally be more excited for this show if they switched out Éclair for you.”
“Oh, now you’re talking,” Blaine enthused, perking up. “You should be the new star.”
Ivy balked. “I’m engaged.”
“So what? It’s not for real. You could do the show, get paid, and use the money to pay for your dream wedding to your cop.”
“I definitely think you should do that,” Jordan agreed. “I’m aquiver at the prospect.”
Ivy narrowed her eyes. “That is not going to happen.”
“It’s just a suggestion,” Jordan said, faking offense. “There’s no need to get worked up.”
“Yeah, well … forget it. It’s never going to happen.”
“SHE’S A MESS.”
Simon Monaghan, one of the four medical examiners the county kept on staff, pulled off his rubber gloves and exhaled heavily as he approached Brian and Jack.
“Is that your expert opinion?” Brian asked dryly.
“That’s the truth.” Simon didn’t as much as flash a hint of a smile. He looked beaten down, which caused Jack and Brian both to straighten.
“Lay it on us,” Jack suggested. “We need to know what we’re dealing with if we expect to track down the culprit.”
“Well, it’s not pretty,” Simon replied. “I’m going to have to get her into the lab for the formal report, you under
stand, but she was alive and aware for a lot of that beating.”
Jack internally cringed. He didn’t know the woman, was unhappy with her antics from the day before, but he wouldn’t wish that sort of death on anyone. “How can you be sure?”
“She’s got defensive wounds on her hands and arms.” Simon lifted his arms and covered his face to show how Éclair died. “A lot of the bruises are on the underside of her arms. Those would’ve been facing out when she was attacked.”
“She was looking at her attacker straight on then,” Brian mused. “That must mean she knew whoever it was who went after her.”
“That’s up to you to figure out,” Simon countered. “I only know she was hit at least twenty times. I’ll be able to get a better number for you once I’ve had time with her in the lab. I suspect she has a skull fracture, although I’m not sure yet. I can’t give you an exact cause of death. She could have internal bleeding or something else could’ve tipped her over the edge.”
“We know the basics,” Jack noted. “She was beaten to death.”
“Pretty much.”
“Would her assailant have bruises on his hands?” Brian asked. “After that vicious of a beating, it would only make sense, right?”
“In theory. He could’ve worn gloves, though. He could’ve struck her with foreign objects. I’m not that far into my examination.”
“Can you give us anything?” Brian pleaded. “How about a likely gender for our killer? I’m assuming it has to be a man.”
Simon worked his jaw, uncertainty swimming in his compassionate eyes. “I honestly can’t even give you that much,” he said after a beat. “I don’t have any angles on the blows.”
“Are you saying a woman could’ve done this?” Jack was doubtful. “Whoever beat down Éclair had a lot of rage … and strength.”
“I would agree with that,” Simon conceded. “The thing is … women feel rage. They’re also stronger than we often want to give them credit for. If it came down to it, I think Ivy could’ve inflicted that much damage if she really wanted to do it.”
Wicked Delight Page 4