by Emily James
I clenched my hands around the arms of the chair, bracing myself. That didn’t sound like Stacey asked for a raise, either.
If he hadn’t said it was about Stacey, I would have thought he wanted out of the partnership. But that couldn’t be it. Stacey was too young to have enough money to buy him out.
The only thing I could think to say was, “Okay.”
Russ had both his hands in his hair now. When he laid them back on the desk, his hair stayed spiked out like a mad scientist.
“Thing is, I’m getting old. In another five or ten years, I’m gonna wanna retire. With you and Mark talking about moving to DC, where does that leave Sugarwood?”
I saw where he was going, but it didn’t make me feel any better. I’d been told so many times that Sugarwood needed to be owned and run by someone who was here and involved and understood the town and what Sugarwood meant to the community. I might as well tack a scarlet T for traitor on my chest.
And I still didn’t see how it applied to Stacey.
“Mark and I aren’t sure we’re moving yet. We still might stay in Fair Haven.”
We’d been putting off having the talk about it, but we only had a few weeks left until the deadline they’d given Mark for his decision, and I had a Skype interview with the prosecutor’s office in a couple of days. They wouldn’t want to wait long for an answer if they offered me the position.
While we could always move back if we absolutely hated it in DC, it wouldn’t be the same. Mark probably wouldn’t be able to step back into his job as county medical examiner, and Sugarwood would have been restructured to run without my direct participation. If we moved, we’d have to sell Mark’s house and rent mine out since we couldn’t sever it from the rest of Sugarwood.
Russ wagged his head. “Even if you stay, are you gonna want to make Sugarwood your full-time career?”
That was, as my grandma would have said, the sticky wicket. Move to DC or stay in Fair Haven, I still needed to decide what to do career-wise.
What I’d learned about myself since coming to Fair Haven was that—all things being equal—I loved being a lawyer. I loved helping clients. I loved solving puzzles. If I could stick to defending innocent people and somehow channel my parents’ skills in the courtroom, I’d be content with my job for the rest of my life. I’d be happy working for the prosecution as well, minus the whole speaking-in-front-of-people thing. Thinking about it, I understood what the person who came in fourth at the Olympics must feel like. It was the thing I loved doing, but I fell shy of being good enough.
“I don’t think your Uncle Stan left you this place to tie you into another person’s dream for you,” Russ was saying.
I forced myself to focus back on him. “Why do you think he left it to me?”
“I think he wanted to make sure you had options. He knew I’d be here to run the business one way or another. ’Sides, he loved you a lot more than he loved this place.”
Pressure built behind my eyes that felt a lot like tears. I brushed a hand over my face.
Why Russ brought Stacey into this finally made sense. “You want to apprentice Stacey to take over for you when you retire.”
Russ nodded. “Sort of like an assistant manager for now. She already handles the books and record-keeping better than I ever did, and she seems to love the place.”
She loved fixing cars too, though. “I’m good with offering her the opportunity.” I shot him a sidelong glance. “I still want to be able to get in the way around here anytime I please, though, especially when the sap starts to run.”
Russ laughed in that way that always reminded me of Santa Claus. It came from deep in his gut and shook his whole body. “I expect you to make a nuisance of yourself.”
His smile sagged a little at the edges, probably with thoughts of Noah. Having Stacey here meant Russ would get to see Noah’s son or daughter grow up first-hand. He’d lost a lot in the short time I’d known him, and he deserved to have something good in return.
He dropped his gaze to the papers on his desk, examining them like they were essential…except they were upside down.
“We should probably offer her a raise too,” he said, flipping through the papers as if his request was an afterthought.
It wasn’t. Russ always thought about others. I don’t know why he felt he needed to hide it. “Let me know what you think we can manage.”
Russ gave me a thumbs up.
I left his office, but I headed out into the bush instead of going straight back to my house. The wind rustling the leaves overhead sounded almost like water lapping at the shoreline, and three distinct bird calls echoed above it all. Maybe if we stayed here, I’d even learn what birds they belonged to.
Deep inside, I’d known for a while that I wasn’t cut out to run Sugarwood the way Russ did or the way my Uncle Stan must have. It still stung a little to be so easily replaced. Though it probably said something that it didn’t sting as much as it should have.
And, as Russ had said, giving me the opportunity to choose that for myself was probably what my Uncle Stan wanted. Besides, stepping back from the roles I’d taken at Sugarwood and allowing Stacey to fill them didn’t mean Sugarwood wasn’t still fifty-one percent mine. I could still help during the busy maple season and walk the trails and care about the people.
The real problem was how I could be a lawyer when there were a few key parts that I didn’t do well.
Before I could contemplate that, however, I still needed to break the news to Mark that I’d agreed to take the case.
***
The last reaction I’d expected from Mark when I filled him in was laughter. It took me a minute to figure out he thought I was joking.
“Don’t try to play that one on Elise,” he said. “I don’t think she’d appreciate it.”
My throat tickled enough that I almost took a page from Erik’s book and cleared it. “I’m serious. Elise is the one who asked me to represent him.”
A beat of silence. “This isn’t funny anymore.” His tone of voice said Please tell me you’re still kidding.
I wished I could. “It wasn’t funny for me even from the start. Think about it. How would I know his name if this wasn’t for real?”
Another long silence. When I first called him, I could hear him opening and closing drawers in the background. Now even his surroundings were vacant.
“Elise asked you to do this?”
“I wouldn’t have agreed if she hadn’t.” I told him what she’d told me about the kids.
“I know you wouldn’t have.” The sound of a mouse clicking and him typing on the keyboard started up. “The murder must have happened while we were in DC. I’d have been the ME called to the scene otherwise. I’d have had to decline due to possible conflict of interest, but at least we’d have known about it.”
Elise shouldn’t have had to face this alone. Not for months. Not even for a day. “She’s mostly embarrassed right now. She was worried about the family learning about it. I’m hoping that’ll wear off.”
“No one liked Dean, but the more we opposed him, the more she defended him. I wish we hadn’t pushed her so hard. Maybe she wouldn’t have married him.”
An image of Elise and the way she looked when she was with her children jumped into my mind. “Maybe, but then we all wouldn’t have Arielle and Cameron. Everything happens for a reason, right?”
His mumbled assent still sounded half-hearted. “When you get the autopsy report, let me know. I’ll go over it with you. As much as I wouldn’t mind seeing Dean in prison, I want to do something to show Elise that we’re behind her no matter what.”
I’d have kissed him if we were in the same room.
“But Nikki?”
The heavy tone in his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and not the good kind.
“Be careful. Dean’s a master manipulator and a user. He’ll do whatever it takes to get what he wants, and he won’t care who he hurts to do it.”
7
Th
e next morning, I drove half an hour to the town where Dean lived. Once I realized he didn’t live in Fair Haven, it made a lot more sense that Erik didn’t know Elise’s ex had been arrested and that she’d been suspended for poking around in the case. The murder wasn’t even in the jurisdiction of the Fair Haven police.
Dean’s lawn was a little too long, like he stretched the time between cuttings as far as he could get away with. The front porch looked like it’d been white at one point, but the paint had mostly peeled away, leaving it looking like it had a bad case of eczema.
The car in the driveway, however, was brand-new. I’d seen the same model last week when Mark and I casually walked through a lot and chatted with a salesman. My car had been in enough accidents that I wanted to replace it before winter.
I peeked in the window on my way by. Dean’s car had leather seats and a sunroof. Those only came in the top-of-the-line package. The floor of the car was clean, making me think he hadn’t owned it long.
While that was a good sign for me when it came to him being able to pay my fees, it was a bad sign in terms of the case. I’d have to check whether Dean had a large life insurance policy on Sandra. If he’d gotten himself into debt, he might have killed her for the life insurance. Or, at least, that’s what the prosecution would argue if I destroyed their wife abuser motive.
The porch wobbled underneath my feet as I climbed the stairs. The doorbell didn’t seem to be in working order, so I knocked.
The man who answered the door was nothing like what Dean was supposed to be. He was supposed to be a former jock who was now fat and balding, his sexy voice the only thing remaining of his former glory.
The glory of the man who answered the door was anything but former.
To make it even worse, his chest was bare.
Heat crept up into my ears, and I averted my eyes. It was no wonder Elise married him. She’d probably still been young enough that she didn’t realize good looks didn’t make a good man.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught his I-know-I’m-good-looking grin. He didn’t make a move to put on the t-shirt in his hand.
He leaned casually against the doorway. “How can I be of service, darlin’?”
The way he said it turned my stomach. Whatever little bit of power his appearance had given him faded away. In the back of my head, I could almost hear my dad telling me that if we could get him to keep his mouth shut in court, his appearance would work in our favor. No one expected handsome people to be killers.
But that was something we’d deal with once we finally got to court. Right now, I had to deal with the fact that he apparently had the memory of a goldfish and forgot our appointment. “I’m your lawyer.”
I kept my voice deadpan. Hopefully he’d feel at least a little bit of shame.
His gaze moved slowly down me in a way that made me wish I’d worn a muumuu instead of the tailored blouse and skirt I’d chosen because I wanted to look professional.
He stepped out of the doorway, but still made no move to dress himself. I spelled Arielle and Cameron’s names slowly in my head. Maybe if I focused on them, I wouldn’t be so tempted to give their dad a black eye.
The door swooshed shut behind me, and big hands grabbed my waist. Tight.
My heartbeat kicked up into my throat, and I couldn’t breathe.
I tried to pull away from his touch, but he closed his grip.
“Stop it. What do you think you’re doing?” My voice came out a lot more freaked-out than I’d intended.
His lips hit my neck with wet kisses. “I prefer naughty nurses,” he said, “but a naughty lawyer fits the situation better. You’ll have to tell me who to thank when we’re done.”
Calm washed over my brain, and I stopped squirming even though his lips kept moving over my neck like a slug leaving a trail of goo.
The man was an idiot, with the self-control of a cat in heat, but thankfully, it seemed he wasn’t a predator. He really thought I was a call girl sent by one of his skeezee friends.
“You can thank your ex-wife.” I managed to bring my voice into a passable imitation of my mom now that I wasn’t panicking. “And if you don’t take your mouth off me, I’m going to place a knee on you in a spot you won’t enjoy.”
He stilled and cursed none too gently. “You’re actually my lawyer.”
“That depends on how quickly you take your hands off me and put your shirt on.”
He jerked away, and I turned around. His head was already halfway through his shirt.
“You don’t look like a lawyer.” His voice came out muffled. He yanked his shirt down into place. “If Elise wasn’t the one who found you, I’d think you won cases by doing special favors for the judge.” He winked. “Not that I’d have a problem with that as long as you get me off.”
Images of me kneeing him in the groin anyway danced in my vision, nearly blinding me.
Arielle and Cameron. I was doing this for Arielle and Cameron. Though, honestly, they might be better off if this guy was in prison.
I clenched my teeth, then forced my jaw to relax. The worst thing I could do was let him know he was getting to me. It was like how the bullies in school got worse the more they upset you.
I would not be bullied. We clearly needed to establish who was in charge here and what the ground rules would be.
“As long as you stand accused of your wife’s murder, you’re not allowed to go to any strip clubs, hire any prostitutes, or accept any gifts from your friends that show up at your door. You’re not even allowed to date. Your wife just died. You want any chance of being acquitted of her murder, you need to at least act like you’re a grieving husband.”
His face twisted up like he was going to cuss me out and kick me out of the house. Instead, he fisted his hands. “I guess I don’t have much choice. Elise said I had to listen to you, ’cause if I end up in prison for this, she won’t bring the kids to visit.”
An emotion rippled across his face that I couldn’t quite catch. It almost looked like…fear? Regret?
Even the worst examples of humanity loved someone. For Dean, it seemed like that some was two someones—Arielle and Cameron.
Oddly enough, his motivation was the same as mine. Perhaps this would all be easier if we established some common ground.
“Arielle and Cameron are why I agreed to represent you.”
“What are my kids to you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, making his biceps into chiseled bars. “Elise switch teams or something?”
Lord give me patience. I held up my left hand, back facing him so my engagement ring came into view. “I’m a few months away from becoming a Cavanaugh.”
“Bobby?”
“Mark.”
His arms loosened slightly. “I always liked Mark. It was a shame about his first wife.”
Everybody liked Mark, but it softened me a bit to Dean. If he’d said something snide about Mark, I might have dropped him as a client regardless of the other factors.
I checked the buttons on my blouse. Thankfully they’d survived his manhandling, and we shouldn’t have a repeat. “We’re all working toward the same goal, so try to cooperate with me. When I tell you to do something, it’s for the good of your case.”
He gave a half nod.
Since that was probably as close to agreement as I was going to get, it was time to move on to what I’d come here for. “One of the strongest pieces of the prosecution’s case against you is that you were apparently in the house during the time of death window. I’d like you to show me around outside. I need to see if I can argue that the killer could have gotten in another way.”
He led me into the living room. The couch sat in the middle of the room, the TV up against the wall in front of it. Behind the couch were the stairs. The house wasn’t large.
I could see why it looked condemning to the police. “Is that the only way upstairs?”
The cockiness drained from his stance, and he suddenly looked more like a normal man than an underwear
model. “Yeah. Whether they came in the front or the back door, they’d have had to climb those stairs.” He pointed to the couch. “But in my defense, I was wasted. I wouldn’t have heard a car crash into the house.”
That wasn’t much of a defense. We couldn’t prove it. It was easy for him to claim he’d been too drunk to hear an intruder, but without evidence, it wouldn’t stand up in court. It also wouldn’t endear him to the jury any. “Do you have receipts from whatever bar you were at? If we could show how much you had to drink, I might be able to use that. Or do you remember what taxi service you used to bring you home?”
If he’d driven himself home drunk, we’d have zero chance in court. Juries, in my experience, had very little patience for drunk drivers.
He shook his head. “I was drinking with a buddy at his house, and he brought me home.”
“What time?”
“Around 10:00 or 10:30 I think. I don’t remember exactly. I’d planned to come home and have a late supper with Sandra, but then she wasn’t downstairs when I came in. I figured she was already asleep.”
Well, that was just great. “How did you get your car back?”
The look he gave me said he’d been lying about the friend driving him home.
I headed toward the back of the house. “Why don’t you show me around the outside?”
Dean’s backyard wasn’t much tidier than his front. A two-foot wide swath of plants that had to be nearly four feet tall grew along the back fence. They’d bloomed in a showy presentation of purple flowers that looked like little hoods.
I didn’t recognize them, but they were planted among hollyhocks, clematis, and some sort of daisy. At least, I thought they were hollyhocks and clematis. This had been my first summer with gardens to tend, and I’d basically tried to keep up with what my Uncle Stan planted the year before. I’d been slowly identifying the varieties in his gardens, so I could figure out how best not to kill them. I was certain the little white flowers with yellow centers in Sandra’s garden were daisies, at least. I used to buy bouquets of daisies for my apartment back in DC.
The hollyhocks and purple flowers matched the ones that were in a tall vase on the kitchen counter in the crime scene photos. Sandra must have spent some of her last hours cutting blooms.