by Peggy Jaeger
“You didn’t give me a chance to refuse.” Shaking his head, he stepped into the foyer. “I don’t like having my calls ignored, Aurora.”
“I’m sorry about that.” I wrapped my free hand around his arm and guided him through the front hall. “Well, not really. But I knew you’d give me some excuse about why you couldn’t come here and—”
“Nick.”
We both turned to find Maeve standing in the doorway to the living room. Beneath my hand Nick’s arm muscles went rigid and his entire body tensed. His breath caught as his gaze lasered in on her face.
Shock wears many expressions. It can fill a face with anger or surprise; happiness or fear. Even concern or sorrow.
Maeve’s were none of those. In fact, I don’t remember her ever looking as she did right now. Her pale skin was accentuated by the two puffs of rose that had formed, blushing her cheeks. The crystal blue eyes that moments ago had been cloudy with suspicion were now literally bright and shining. Even the muscles bracketing her mouth had gone slack as it dropped open.
She looked twenty years younger in the hallway light as she stood, rock still, staring at the man she’d given up for me.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice hushed.
Ramon said nothing, just kept staring at her, a look of absolute rapture on his handsome face. Gently, I squeezed his arm where I held it. He startled, blinked a half dozen times and then slipped from my grip to walk toward the love of his life.
He cleared his throat then said, “From the surprise on your lovely face I’m assuming Aurora didn’t tell you I was coming.” He turned to me and quirked an eyebrow. “That she’d ordered me to.”
“I did no such thing. I just suggested you come here instead of me hightailing it downtown to your place. It was a matter of time management.”
Shaking his head he slid his gaze back to Maeve. I swear the air crackled with electricity around the two of them.
“I can tell you’ve had your hands full with this one.” He cocked his thumb over his shoulder at me, a grin tugging on one corner of his mouth.
“Hands and feet,” Maeve said, shooting a glance at me then back to him.
“It’s good to see you,” Nick told her. “You look—”
“Old.”
“—beautiful as always.”
Those cheeks turned crimson now.
“And you’ve still got the blarney you inherited from your mother in you.”
“It’s not blarney if it’s the truth.”
Awww. My heart sighed.
“I’ll say the same to you then. You’re looking…well. Hale and hearty.”
He smiled at her and it was as if the room brightened through an open window. I could envision the man he’d been, fifteen years ago, and why Maeve had been so drawn to him.
“Well, now.” Her hands started to flit about her, something I wasn’t used to seeing. Maeve Capshaw was never nervous. “I’m standing here gawking when I should be working. This house won’t clean itself. You’ve business, so I’ll let the two of you get to it.”
She gave me a single chin thrust then bobbed her head to him.
He tracked her as she disappeared back into the living room and closed the door behind her. There was no reason for her to, but I figured she needed the physical barrier between them.
Ramon turned to me and I could sense a full-on scolding about to come my way, so as I had earlier, I beat him to the punch. Slipping my hand around his arm again I said, “Let’s go into the study where I can lay all this out for you. I’ve got a million questions and I found something disturbing,” as I tugged him along with me.
He reined in whatever he’d been about to say and repeated me, instead.
“Disturbing?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t say anything else until we’d reached the room my father had called his haven back in the day when he was alive and I was an annoying daddy’s girl who wanted to be attached to his hip.
After I closed the door, I spread everything out on the antique mahogany desk and opened Cade’s interview file.
“Do you recognize this name?”
His gaze panned the page. “Not really. It’s been a while, Aurora, and it doesn’t appear he had a lot to contribute to the investigation. Why?”
He handed it back to me.
“First, I want to know if you ever had a copy of the guest list for my party? Did Killian Beggs give one to you?”
The space between his eyes folded inward. “Not that I remember. Did you find one in his file?”
“No.”
He shrugged. “I can’t recall, but I do remember Beggs telling me the party was invite only and solely for friends of yours. In order to get in, one had to be on an approved list. As I’ve said, I don’t remember seeing a list, but everyone checked out.”
“They couldn’t have because this guy, Kincade Enright,” I held up the file, “was never invited by me and wasn’t on the list.”
That space smoothed when his eyes widened. “Are you sure?”
“Perfectly. I didn’t know him back then.”
Ramon was astute, that’s for sure. A little head tilt, a slight hardening around his eyes, and he pounced. “Back then? Do you know him now, then?”
I nodded, then told him everything. How I’d bumped into Cade at the Till, the auction. Everything. Well…except the sex part. He didn’t need to know that.
No one needed to know that.
“So you’re certain Enright wasn’t on the list?”
“Absolutely. Well, as much as I can be because that day is still a blank. I could have met him the day of the party but I don’t think so.”
“And he’s acted like he didn’t know you these few times you’ve seen one another? No little slips that might have given him away?”
“None.” I told him about the name issue.
When he didn’t respond I asked, “What are you thinking?”
“So many things my head is spinning.” He pointed to the couch and I nodded. After we were both seated he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled.
“First,” he said, “I’m not actively on the force anymore. I can’t do anything officially, like question him or demand to know what he knows.”
I nodded and settled back on the couch with my feet tucked under me.
“Second, I’d like to see a copy of the guest list. Can that be done?”
“Unfortunately, no. My old computer is long gone and Killian Beggs is dead. He passed a few years ago from pancreatic cancer. I would imagine if he’d kept anything from back then it would be long gone by now.”
“Okay, so that’s a dead end.”
“What’s third?”
“I want to see your spread sheet.”
I stood and said, “It’s easier if we look at it all laid out.”
When I had the pages side by side in a time line across the top of the desk, Ramon peered down them, his hands slung in pockets and his eyes focused on the papers.
Across the top of each page I’d placed a time, in one hour chunks. The severe left hand column listed all the names of the people who had been interviewed except for Cade’s and the final four in the files I hadn’t gotten to yet. Across each page were the times and events people reported.
“I thought this was impressive over the phone, but seeing it in person, I’m really impressed. I never thought to do it like this.”
Shrugging, I said, “Growing up in this house, with my father for a role model, I couldn’t help but be influenced by how he conducted business. Spread sheets were a common sighting around the dinner table.”
“You got a pencil?”
I pulled one out of the desk drawer and he leaned across the pages, reading, and making notations. While he did, I took the liberty to read through the last four files.
“Nothing new in these,” I said a few minutes later. “The janitor who was on duty that night in the club, the DJ and his assistant, and one of
the barmaids. All of their statements are pretty consistent with what we already know.”
A gentle rap on the door sounded and then it opened. Maeve pushed the silver tea trolley my mother received as a wedding present four decades ago into the room laden with afternoon goodies and treats, plus two silver carafes.
“I thought you’d both might like something to drink and snack on while you’re working.”
Ramon watched her as she wheeled the trolley in. The closer she came, the more her cheeks colored under his perusal.
“Thanks, Maeve.” I reached for a cupcake.
“There’s decaf tea in the blue carafe, black coffee in the other,” she said, her gaze lighting on Ramon and staying there. “I made those little cupcakes this morning and there’s fruit and some cheese. Please, help yourself.”
“It looks wonderful, Maeve. Thank you for going to the trouble.”
She swatted a hand in the air. “It was no trouble at all.”
He took a sip from the cup he’d poured, his eyes the entire time focused on Maeve.
“It tastes as delicious as I remember. You always made great coffee.”
If I didn’t know this woman better I would think the way she dropped her chin, blushed, and swatted her hand in his direction meant she was embarrassed by the compliment. But I did know her. This wasn’t Maeve being embarrassed. It was Maeve being flirtatious.
The way these two were looking at one another with rapt and all-engrossing expressions on their faces, you’d think they’d never seen one another before, or were memorizing what the other looked like.
It hit me in the next instant they weren’t memorizing what the other looked like. They already knew. What they were doing, at least what I thought they were doing as they stood there silent, smiling, and staring, was remembering the past and what they’d meant to one another. Maybe even hoping the other still saw them through the same loving eyes and in the same light.
It was conceivable, even possible, that if Maeve hadn’t refused Nick all those years ago, they may have been married now, with growing kids and a two story house out on Long Island.
My heart gave a little stutter of sadness and regret for what she’d given up for me.
I let them stare at one another for a full five seconds before I broke through their mutual admiration party by asking, “Is mom home yet?”
“She should be, soon.”
“Can you have her come in here when she does?”
Maeve nodded, then her eyes instantly settled back on Nick. “I’ll leave you two, then, to your work.”
“Thanks for the coffee, Maeve. You always knew how to make it just perfect.”
Another hand swat, but this time I knew she was pleased.
I poured a cup of tea for myself then leaned a hip against the desk. Staring down at the pages as he was again, I asked Nick, “Do you see anything that jumps out? Something I missed.”
“Maybe.” He put his cup down and pointed to the first page. “You and Miss Doubletree arrived to the party at nine-thirty. This is confirmed by the DJ’s statement, Beggs’, and the front-door bouncer.”
I glanced down to where he was indicating. “Okay, so?”
“At half past twelve, Begg’s said he made the announcement that it was officially your birthday and got every one to sing and toast you. Doubletree confirms that and so does Bookman and most of the other guests.”
“Again okay, and again, so?”
“No one has mentioned where you were from the time you arrived until the time you were toasted.”
“Phillipa says I was dancing. Beggs, too.” I pointed my finger to the statements.
“Those are vague recollections. Did you table hop? Did you meet with someone? You couldn’t have been on the dance floor the entire time. You were drinking, so you must have needed to use the restroom at some point or sat down to rest for a few minutes.”
Another little rap at my memory door sounded in my head.
Nick’s penetrating gaze flicked over me like he was assessing a witness, determined to draw every secret out.
“You’re remembering something, aren’t you? Something from that night?”
“It won’t come clear.” I shook my head and pouted. “I’ve had this happen a few times since you gave me the files. Once was when I reading Phillipa’s statements and once when I realized Enright had been at the party. You just mentioned going to the bathroom and another piece tried to push through, but couldn’t.”
“About something that happened in the club’s restroom?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure. God, this is frustrating as hell.”
With my arms crossed I stomped to the window overlooking the front street.
Bright and vibrant pink cherry blossoms dropped from the tree branches lining the sidewalk and side of the front stoop steps. They were in full bloom throughout the neighborhood and gave the ancient and historic buildings on the street a happy, welcome to Spring, air.
“I want to remember that night so badly,” I said, staring out at the sparse traffic. “I hate not knowing what happened, not being able to remember a blessed thing from that day.”
“Rohypnol is a potent amnesiac. Combined with the ketamine, it’s a miracle you’re even standing here able to complain about the memory loss.”
I turned around to him and frowned. “I wasn’t complaining. I’m just aggravated at not being able to remember.”
“Call it whatever you like, but you have to come to grips with the fact you may never remember anything of that day or night.”
He was right, of course. My neurologist had told me the same thing several times.
After reading Phil’s statement that she’d been with me before we’d left for the party, I considered calling her and asking if she could meet me to go over what happened that day. Her strange behavior when we’d met on the street, though, had me forgetting the idea. I kept coming back to why she’d behaved as she had, though. Once upon a time we’d been the best of friends, knew each other’s secrets, and were the other’s confidant for all things that came up in our lives.
A bolt of lightning crossed in front of my mind, so fast and so brilliant, that I actually cried out.
Nick was at my side, his hand gripping my upper arm in a heartbeat.
“What’s wrong?”
I kept my eyes closed, letting the slip of memory come through. Phillipa and me, upstairs in my bedroom. Champagne flutes filled.
“Aurora?”
Slowly, I opened my eyes. Focusing in on the worry covering his face like a mask, I blinked a few times and took a deep breath.
“I remembered something from that day.”
With his hand still around my arm, Nick led me to the couch. “You’re as white as a bleached sheet. Sit down.”
Once I was seated, he lifted my teacup and handed it to me. “Drink. All of it.”
I didn’t even argue with him for being so bossy. In a weird way it was comforting. He spoke to me almost like my father used to in his commanding, yet loving, tone.
When I finished, he took the cup from me, and, after putting it back on the trolley, said, “Tell me.”
“It was just a snippet of a conversation as I was getting dressed to leave for the party. We were both having a glass of celebratory champagne and she told me something, something in secret.”
“Do you remember what it was?”
Nodding, I said, “She was seeing someone.”
“You mean aside from her boyfriend? Bookman?”
“Yes. A new guy. She was trying, I think, to make Trey jealous.”
“Did you she tell you that or was it just an assumption on your part?”
“I don’t know. It’s so hazy.”
“Did she tell you who it was? Give you this secret guy’s name?”
Before I could answer, someone else did.
“It was me. Phillipa was seeing me.”
Both of us startled as we turned towards the sound of a familiar voice and found Cade Enright s
tanding in the doorway.
Chapter Seventeen
“I’m sorry, Aurora,” Maeve said as she pushed by him to come into the room. “He said he was here to pick you up for dinner. I told him you were busy but he wouldn’t take no for an answer and barreled right by me.”
Nick stood and moved toward her. He placed a hand around her arm, much the way he had with me.
“It’s okay, Maeve. I’ll deal with this,” he told her. Her expression went from concerned to relief.
Cade sidestepped them and shot to me.
“Aurora, let me—”
“You lied to me.”
He stopped short, a look of shame crossing his handsome face.
“You knew who I was all along, from that first minute at the rehab center—”
“No. No, I didn’t.”
“Don’t you dare to keep lying to me—”
“I’m not, Aurora. Please,” he took a step toward me, his hands held out in front of him. “Please, let me explain.”
“Enright.”
We both looked at Nick.
“Do you remember me?”
Cade nodded. “You were the detective who interviewed me about,” his gaze brushed over me, “what happened at Aurora’s party.”
Nick nodded. “You say you were Miss Doubletree’s guest at Miss Brightwell’s party?”
“Yes. Phillipa invited me.” He turned back to me. “Please, let me explain, Aurora.”
I was so filled with conflicting emotions about this man that I didn’t know what to do. It was Nick who convinced me to hear him out. He asked Maeve to give us the room, then tracked her as she left it. Once she’d closed the door behind her Nick said, “Let’s all sit down.”
“We’d only been seeing each other a few weeks,” Cade said once we were seated, me on the couch, Cade in one of the desk chairs and Nick leaning against the desk, his arms crossed over her chest. “I didn’t know she was already involved with someone. She told me she wasn’t seeing anyone else.”
“Any you believed her?” Nick asked.
“I had no reason not to.”
Nick nodded and waited a beat, then, “How did you meet?”
Cade’s laugh had a caustic, hollow ring to it. “In a bar, of all places. I was having a drink with a few people after work. I’d just started at a new financial firm and was out getting to know them. Phillipa was there with a few people, knew one of the guys I was with. She came to our table, sat down, and…” he shrugged. “She was cute and funny. I asked for her number, called her and we had a few dinners.” He turned to me, his gaze boring into mine. “Nothing more.”