Ricket. Ricket.
He pulled away, leaving me breathless. “No. No. Don’t stop,” I moaned. “Kiss me.”
Brad leaned in and nuzzled my lips, his beard scratching my chin, his tongue slipping between my parted lips, his breath warm and fishy…
Ricket. Ricket.
“Ignore that damned text message alert and take me now.”
“Meeeoow.” I opened my eyes to Tabitha’s raspy smooches.
“All right, sweetheart. I get it. Time to get up and feed you.”
My iPhone was on the kitchen counter, still lit from a recent text from Sam.
Ok I will go to Jeremy’s.
After I had a few swigs of caffeine under my belt, I called her.
“I’ll go,” Sam said. “But I think it’s a total waste of time. We probably should just go to the police and let them deal with it.”
“The police can’t do anything about this. I mean, has a crime actually been committed here? And what proof do we have? Only what Brittany said to Nora, Debra, and me. The most they would do, if anything, is talk to Brittany and we both know that’s not a good idea right now.”
“While he continues to infect more innocent girls, just for the fun of it.”
“That’s why I want to talk to him before the party. Somebody needs to scare the hell out of him, and I don’t want to do it alone.”
She was silent.
“You still there?”
“Just thinking about what I have to do today. I have to run errands and then bake cupcakes for the book club meeting tomorrow. What’re you bringing?”
Totally had spaced that out. “It’s a surprise.”
“Yeah, right. I’ll pick you up at five.”
“So don’t want to do this.” Sam was driving her Ford Escape slower than a sloth down Wyndham Lane. “And, Spencer’s home and tonight is date night, and we haven’t had a date night in a looong time, if you know what I mean, so we need to do this fast.”
“Yes, I know what you mean, and oh, poor you. I haven’t had a date night…” I finger-quoted. “…since before Chad got cancer. It’s been so long that I’m actually considering letting Ruby set me up with this guy named Duke, who drives her senior Dial-a-Ride van.”
“You win.”
“There it is.” I pointed at a tidy white rancher. “Seven-sixty-eight. Nice house. Looks quiet.”
“It won’t be for long.” Sam parked the car across the street.
I pointed at a jacked-up red truck with a surfboard in the back, parked in the driveway. “That must be his truck.”
We rang the doorbell and a dog started yapping.
“What’re we going to say to him?” asked Sam, looking as nervous as I felt.
“We’ll tell him we know what he’s doing, and he has to contact every girl he’s had sex with and tell them to get a checkup. And that we plan to inform his parents and…” I thought a moment. “The local news media. And he has to cancel this bash, or we will call the police and report underage drinking.”
“That should do it,” said Sam, watching the street for incoming teens. “Ring it again before I lose my nerve.”
The dog sounded frantic, but it hadn’t raced to the door like Daisy would have.
“That dog must be locked up somewhere. Hope it’s okay.” I peeked in the window by the door. “Maybe Jeremy’s in the backyard.”
“Or maybe nobody’s home.” She tugged on my arm. “Let’s leave.”
“We’re here now, so we might as well go around and check.”
“Why do I let you talk me into things like this?” Sam lagged behind as we crept down the driveway toward a gate at the end. “Are we really doing this?” she asked, when we reached a white vinyl gate leading into the backyard. I unlatched the gate, holding the attached bell to keep it quiet as we stepped through. “I guess that’s a yes.”
We skulked across the lawn to a flagstone patio, halting at the edge.
“Jeremy?” I said, having second thoughts about this mission. “Hellooo. Jeremy?”
“Katy, no one’s going to hear you whispering, you know.”
“I feel like a trespasser.”
“Probably because you are a trespasser.”
I took a breath and yelled, “Jeremy! We need to talk to you.”
“It’s urgent!” screamed Sam. “A matter of life or death.”
The dog’s barking turned into a keening howl.
“This is now officially weird,” Sam said. “We’re outta here.”
“That dog sounds like it’s in trouble. Maybe hurt.” I dashed across the patio to the sliding door and peered in.
“Be careful, Katy! The place might have an alarm. I really do not want to go to jail today. I still have to frost those damned cupcakes for the stupid book club!”
“Uh-oh. This is not good.”
Sam was still rooted in the grass. “What?”
I signaled her over. “Come here and take a look.”
“I’m fine right here. Just tell me.”
“No. You need to see this.”
Sam joined me at the window and looked in. “He’s asleep on the couch. So what?”
“Look at all the beer cans on the floor.”
“Okay, he must’ve got drunk and passed out.”
“Before the party?”
“What can I say, Katy? The guy’s a total idiot and obviously a terrible party host, too.”
I locked eyes with Sam. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Oh, I know what you’re thinking, and no, he’s not dead, Katy. This is Santa Lucia, not Breaking Bad. You need to stop watching all your crime shows and watch my nice shows.”
Nope. Not gonna watch the Real Housewives of… Anything.
Sam checked her watch. “It’s past 5:30. Let’s get out of here before kids start showing up.”
“But we can’t leave that poor doggy. It might be hurt, and that loser is obviously too trashed to do anything about it.” I tried the slider and it opened. “Just let me make sure the dog’s okay. Then we’ll leave.”
“Oh my God. You’re going in? I can’t believe you’re going in!” She hesitated and then followed me through the door. “You go find the dog and I’ll check the kid. I don’t want to hear tomorrow that he was dying of alcohol poisoning, and we could have saved him. Although that’s exactly what the little shit deserves.”
I sneaked through the house, following the manic barking. “Hey puppy, puppy. Where are you?”
A door at the end of a hallway was thumping on its hinges as the dog tried to scratch its way through the wood.
“Please, please, please don’t bite me.” I opened the door and was nearly knocked off my feet by a Puggle plowing between my legs and making a beeline for his boy. Yeah, it was a he. No missing those cojones.
“Katy!” Samantha screamed. “Get out here!”
I raced through the house and found Sam giving Jeremy CPR. “What’s going on?”
“Call 9-1-1!”
I grabbed the phone on the side table and dialed, but I was so flustered that at first, I couldn’t remember where I was. After answering the dispatcher’s questions, he said help was on the way. I hung up, went back to Sam, and felt Jeremy’s neck for a pulse.
“Oh my God, Sam! I think he’s dead!”
She pumped at his chest. “Can’t. Stop. Until. Paramedics. Arrive.”
The doorbell started ringing nonstop. “Yo! Yo! Yo! Party time! Open up, Jeremy!”
“Go away!” I screamed without thinking. “Party’s off!”
“Yeah right. Open the friggin’ door!”
“Oh, crap. I should have kept my stupid mouth shut. Now they know we’re in here.”
Sam glanced up at me. “We gotta get outta here.” She kept compressing the dead guy’s chest. “Start breathing, dammit!”
The back gate bell jingled. “Too late.”
A crowd of boys lugging kegs of beer streamed into the yard followed by some incredibly homely girls. I grabb
ed a blue chenille throw draped over an easy chair and spread it over Jeremy just before one of the boys opened the slider.
“Hey! Where’s Jeremy?” said a spacey-looking brunette, flipping his long hair out of his eyes.
Sam and I stood in front of the sofa shielding Jeremy, as the Puggle growled and wrestled to tug the blanket off him.
“He was here a minute ago,” I said, all wide-eyed and innocent. “Right, Sam?”
“Yeah. Right. A minute ago.” She glanced toward the kitchen. “Jeremy! Your friends are here.”
“Are you like his mom or something?” He turned to the kids outside. “Dudes, his mom’s here.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not his mom, you little twerp!”
Another idiot joined him. “Sweet. Hot older women.”
First dude hollered to the others on the patio, “Jeremy said this was a ‘bring an ugly girl party,’ but there’s cougars here too.”
That’s when we heard the sirens out front. And that was a good thing, or there might have been more dead bodies because those ugly girls were starting to foam at the mouth.
“Oh shit, we are so busted!” said Dude Number One.
In more ways than one, I thought, as the girls advanced across the patio.
The paramedics declared Jeremy dead. Although I already pretty much knew he was dead when we found him, having it confirmed really freaked me out and I began to tremble and feel lightheaded.
The patrol officers, who arrived with the paramedics, ordered everyone to wait outside, with a stern warning not to leave the premises until they released us. Sam, seeing my distress, helped me to the patio table, and we sat. The Puggle had practically glued himself to my legs, so I lifted the quivering dog onto my lap.
Bailey, the dog’s name according to his tag, feebly licked my hand. “It’s okay, little guy,” I murmured in his floppy ear. “I know this is awful, but your boy wasn’t a very nice person, was he?”
“Katy,” Sam hissed, throwing me a warning glare that screamed, Shut up! “Someone might hear you and take that wrong.”
“Take what wrong?” said a familiar voice behind us.
I swiveled to see Police Chief Angela Yaeger stepping out of the house. “Angela! What’re you doing here?”
“I’d rather hear what you’re doing here. Did you know the deceased?”
How to answer that? I glanced at Sam and got nothing. I would have to go with the truth and let the chips fall where they may. “No. But we knew of him.”
Before Angela could reply, Sam blurted, “I’m Samantha. Katy’s best friend. Are we going to be arrested? Because if we are, I need to call my husband.” She looked at Angela with pleading eyes. “Please don’t arrest us. I’ll lose my job if I’m arrested for murder.”
Angela sat at the patio table facing us. “How do you know it was murder, Samantha?”
Sam looked sick. “I… I just assumed. You know, all the police. You. Us. Here. Him.” Her eyes were spinning like pinwheels.
Angela half-smiled, shaking her head. “Well don’t assume anything. There will be an autopsy…”
The word “autopsy” gave me the heebie-jeebies. And then I realized that Sam and I could be in a whole lot of trouble. So much for being a Good Samaritan.
“…and then we’ll see where we are. When a young kid is found dead for no apparent reason, it does raise a lot of questions.”
“What about all those beer cans? Maybe he drank himself to death,” Sam said. “It happens all the time.”
“It doesn’t look like that. No vomit for one thing and not enough cans.” Her gaze shifted to two business-suited men conferring on the lawn. “We’ll leave it to the homicide detectives, who’ll want to talk to you before you leave. But I would very much like to know why you two are here.”
Her gaze shifted to me, making me squirm. “When I heard your name over the dispatch, Katy, I got real curious and decided to check it out for myself. What gives? You two like partying with children?” Her gaze swept over the throng of teens sitting on the other end of the patio, watching us.
Cradling Bailey, I dragged my chair around the table, closer to Angela. “I don’t want those kids to hear me,” I whispered.
I spilled everything we knew about Jeremy. His plan to expose one hundred virgins to HIV and post their photos on Facebook and Instagram. What he’d already done to Brittany and so many other innocent, young girls. Everything. Right down to this mean-spirited party. Angela listened in stony silence, lips pursed, occasionally shaking her head.
“Hey! Can we go now?” one of the boys hollered with cool-dude swagger.
Angela twisted in her seat and shouted, “You! Shut up and sit your ass back down.”
An officer pushed the stunned boy back into his seat. “Nobody is going anywhere, smart guy, until we’ve questioned every one of you. Clear?”
The brat slumped in his chair and whined, “Why? I haven’t done nothin’.”
The cop got in his face. “So those beer kegs just walked in here on their own, huh?”
Angela rolled her eyes at us. “So glad my daughter is grown up and out on her own.”
I caught the freaked-out expression on Sam’s face and knew she was thinking about her hormonal fifteen-year-old stepdaughter, Chelsea, who was too cute to be invited to this party.
“Well, ladies. It’s been a long day.” Angela pushed away from the table and stood. “And I’m going home to put my feet up and have a nice glass of wine with my hubby. But you two have to stay until the detectives speak to you. I cannot hinder their investigation by extending special privileges, but I’ll make sure they talk to you first. That’s the best I can do.”
Two hours later, we were released. We’d been advised not to speak to the media, but having two burly cops escort us through the pressing crowd of ravenous media vultures in the driveway made me feel like a criminal. And that’s exactly what we looked like on the late-night news. Guilty with a capital G. Thank goodness our names weren’t released or those reporters would be camped out on my doorstep right now.
Chapter Eighteen
BETTER DEAD THAN WED
SATURDAY • JULY 13
Posted by Katy McKenna
“Sam and I found Jeremy Baylor—dead!”
“Oh my God! That was you two on the news last night? You both looked so guilty with your faces covered.” Justin shooed us through his front door. “Let me get you poor kids inside.” He led us into the living room where the rest of the book clubbers were already seated. “Everyone? You are not going to believe what Katy just told me.”
“We heard,” Chris grumped. “Probably the whole neighborhood heard.”
Justin situated us in a pair of worn leather chairs flanking an antique tea table. “Chloe, sweetie-poo, why don’t you pour the girls a glass of wine while I plate some food.” He took Samantha’s cupcakes and my quinoa salad à la Trader Joe’s and scurried to the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Not a peep from anyone until I get back.”
Following his order to the tee, we sat in silence. It was a little awkward, especially since I was dying to dish. I know that’s awful, considering the subject matter—but considering who the subject was, can you blame me?
Chloe gave me a glass of Tolosa “No-Oak” Chardonnay—one of my favorites. Between ladylike sips, I glanced around the room at the other club members, exchanging smiles, nods, and a few dramatic eye rolls.
“Here you go, ladies,” sang Justin, swishing into the room and setting plates laden with delectable eats on the oak coffee table. He sat next to Chloe and sampled his wine. “Ooo. Superb choice, Chris.” He swiveled to us. “Sooo… you walked into Jeremy’s house and found his body?”
Debra blew out an agitated groan before I could open my mouth. “Before you share your story, Katy, I need to tell you all something, and it can’t wait.” Her voice wobbled and she tilted her head down, hands clenched in her lap. “Brittany died early this morning.”
After hearing about Brittany�
��s senseless suicide, the last thing I felt like doing this afternoon was working on the Clunker Carnival job. All I wanted to do was lie on the grass in the warm sunshine with Daisy and watch the clouds drift by, and cry for that sweet young girl. And so I did.
Her pointless death has stunned me to my core. How I wish I could reach out and shake Brittany to her senses. And tell her that what seems hopeless now will become a memory that will fade in time. Just one of so many memories yet to be made. Good and bad.
But I can’t. Because that dear, beautiful girl now lies cold in the morgue. There will be no new memories. No true love. No children. No joy. And I can’t stand that.
I barely knew her and yet the ache inside me is crushing. I cannot bear to think of what her family is going through. The questions, the self-blame, the anger, the agonizing what-ifs.
Now Brittany is a tragic memory that will fade in time.
Chapter Nineteen
BETTER DEAD THAN WED
SUNDAY • JULY 14
Posted by Katy McKenna
There was a short update in today’s paper about Jeremy Baylor’s death. Basically all it said was:
The Santa Lucia county coroner, Dr. Irvin Kempler, confirmed the manner of death is pending a toxicology report. Kempler said he has asked for the report to be expedited, and he hopes to have those results sometime next week.
I spent the entire day grinding out the uninspiring Clunker job. Now all I want to do is crawl into bed with a glass of wine, a bag of kettle corn, and watch a couple episodes of Grey’s Anatomy and conk out.
Chapter Twenty
BETTER DEAD THAN WED
MONDAY • JULY 15
Posted by Katy McKenna
After several grueling hours of work this morning, I called Uncle Charlie to set up an appointment to go over my proposed designs. He said he was free all afternoon, so I gathered my things and hopped into the car.
Murder Blog Mysteries Boxed Collection Page 34