“Detective,” I said cordially.
“Why did you have to mention the necklace” he nearly shouted at me.
I pulled my chin back in shock. Gilley also appeared quite surprised by Shepherd’s outburst.
“Dude,” he said sternly. “What the fffff—?”
“Hey,” I warned.
“—flamingo?”
Shepherd rounded on me. “Nobody but the M.E. and I knew about the necklace, Catherine. Nobody saw it, nobody mentioned it, nobody needed to know about it until you came along and raised the alarm and now my ass is on thin ice and I have no choice but to put it into evidence!”
I crossed my arms and glared at him. How dare he come into my home and start yelling at me for something that was completely his fault. “I was looking out for Chanel’s best interests,” I growled.
“How is that looking out for her best interests?” he demanded.
I lowered my arms and balled my fists. This man was intolerable! “If the necklace was found on Basayev, and it doesn’t belong to her, then wouldn’t it completely exonerate her?”
Shepherd ran a hand down the front of his face. I noticed that he hadn’t shaved, but at least he’d showered and changed clothes from the day before. With a long, measured sigh, he said, “Did it ever occur to you that maybe the necklace does belong to her? Huh? Did that ever cross your mind, Catherine Cooper, super sleuth?”
His lip was curled up in a snarl as he spoke, which would’ve set me on edge if not for what he’d just confessed.
“What do you mean it belongs to her?”
“Just what I said. The necklace belongs to Chanel. I was trying to keep it off the evidence list so I could drop the case at a later date when I knew she’d be safe. But now you’ve come along and completely ruined it. Now I have to put it into evidence.”
I put a hand to my mouth. But then I thought of something. “How do you know that the necklace belongs to Chanel? I mean, I never saw her wearing it. And Marcus never mentioned that Chanel had told you about a necklace found at the scene, something she certainly would’ve confessed to her attorney if she knew the police had confiscated it as evidence.”
Shepherd put his hands on his hips, his head shaking back and forth slightly, and I was shocked to see him at an apparent loss for words.
“Steve,” I said firmly “How do you know the necklace belongs to Chanel?”
Shepherd was suddenly avoiding eye contact with me. “I just do,” he said.
And then a ripple of something distasteful traveled up my spine. There was something in his expression, something I recognized because I’d seen it before on the face of my ex-husband.
It was the expression of a married man facing his wife who’s just discovered evidence of an affair. It was the mask of guilt I’d seen on Tom’s face right before he told me he wanted a divorce because he was in love with another woman.
And then the memory of Shepherd embracing Chanel at the scene came flooding back to me. And the fact that he’d made a point to avoid acknowledging any of us when he’d first arrived on scene and we were all standing together. And the fact that he’d never come to find me and take my witness statement the night of the murder.
It all added up now.
And I felt profoundly betrayed.
“You know it belongs to her because you gave it to her,” I whispered.
Shepherd’s gaze flickered to me. He didn’t say anything, but then he seemed to read my expression and the tension in his shoulders let go. “It was a long time ago, Catherine.”
“Well, would you look at the time,” Gilley said. His voice made me jump. I’d nearly forgotten that he was even in the room. “I need to go call Michel before he heads to bed. Cat, I’ll catch up with you later.”
Gilley passed Shepherd on his way out the door, and I heard him make a tisking sound as he went. He was disappointed in Shepherd too.
“Chanel was the reason your marriage broke up, isn’t she?” I asked after Gilley left. My eyes misted a bit, and I couldn’t really say why the knowledge that Shepherd had been unfaithful to Lenny was so personally hurtful to me . . . but it was.
“No,” Shepherd said, hanging his head. “Not completely.”
“What does that mean?”
Shepherd lifted his chin and stared at me. And for maybe only the third or fourth time, I saw his guard go down, and that vulnerable side of him appeared in his eyes. “Lenny and I had been having issues. I was working long hours investigating the Tony Holland case, and she was launching this new agency. We were spending less and less time together, and neither of us seemed to mind it. But then I took a step back from the case, because I realized what it was going to cost me, and I tried to reach out to Lenny and let her know that I wanted to be a more involved partner . . .”
“And?”
Shepherd sighed. “And, she didn’t want me to be more involved. She was on this independent kick, I guess, and she felt that I was holding her back or something. So, I turned to a friend, who knew Lenny almost as well as I did, and who could give me some perspective about where Lenny was coming from.”
“Chanel,” I said.
“Yeah. Chanel.”
“How long did it go on?”
“Six months or so. But it wasn’t much of an affair. Just two people struggling with their relationships who found a little comfort with each other.”
“Chanel was also married?” I asked.
Shepherd shook his head. “No. She was seeing someone who was controlling and jealous, and who she was really ready to quit, but she didn’t know how to do it without it becoming a big thing. I told her I could help her if he started any trouble, but she said she could handle it, so I let it be. She would only refer to the guy in third person too, like she didn’t want me to know who it was, which I guess I could understand. She’d always just call him the IO.”
“IO? What’s that stand for?”
The corner of Shepherd’s mouth quirked, and he raised his hands to make air quotes. “The insignificant other. Anyway, he was the reason she left town after Lenny died. Chanel was pretty destroyed by what’d happened to Len—we all were—and she couldn’t cope with a jealous and controlling boyfriend on top of grieving for one of her closest friends, so one day she sent me a text and said, ‘I’m outta here,’ and I didn’t see her again until the other night.”
I tugged at the neck of my sweater. I was incredibly uncomfortable hearing about Shepherd’s affair, because it hit too close to home, but I was also really curious, and I couldn’t seem to hold back asking him the one thing I needed to know, which, ironically, was the same question I’d asked Tom when he’d confessed his affair to me. “Did you love her?” I asked.
Shepherd looked me in the eye, which I could tell was a bit of a struggle for him, because he was clearly ashamed of what he’d done, and it was something Tom had never given me when faced with that same, simple inquiry. “I wasn’t in love with Chanel,” he said, “but I cared about her. The way you care about a friend who was there for you when you really needed them. And that’s why I gave her the necklace, Catherine. I wanted her to know that she’d meant something to me. Because she had.”
In that moment, I, myself, wondered what I meant to Shepherd. I was his friend, for certain; I felt confident in that. But what had last night meant? Was I relegated to a status similar to Chanel? Or was I a more serious endeavor, like Lenny had been?
Those were all the questions I really wanted to ask him, but knew that I couldn’t, so I simply stood there, tugging on my sweater, wondering what to say next.
For his part, Shepherd was looking at me in a way that seemed to ask for forgiveness, which was ludicrous of course. He’d betrayed his wife, not me.
And yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d been the one he’d cheated on. And I couldn’t simply decide to feel differently.
I wasn’t a mind reader, but I swore that Shepherd understood, and his expression seemed pained. “Listen,” he said softly as he too
k a step closer to me, and that current that’d been so present only hours before reignited with intensity.
But I didn’t want to get lost in that current again. At least not yet. So I backed up a fraction, and he stopped his advance. “What . . . what was Chanel’s necklace doing at the scene?” I asked, relieved to have something else to focus on and distract us from our current path.
Shepherd dropped his gaze to the floor and shook his head slightly, but he answered me. “Basayev was wearing it.”
“Wait . . . he was . . . wearing the necklace?”
Shepherd made a sound like a humorless laugh. “Yeah, if you can believe it.”
“What’d Chanel say about that?”
“She said she’d left her necklace behind when she made a run for it a year ago. She has no idea how it ended up on Basayev.”
“Do you believe her?”
Shepherd nodded, but he also shrugged. “Chanel never lied to me. That’s something that I liked about her. She was a straight shooter. If she didn’t want to tell me the whole truth, she’d be a little vague, or change the subject, but overall she was always honest.”
“But she lied to Lenny,” I insisted. “I mean, here she was, having an affair with her husband, and pretending to be her friend and business partner too.”
Shepherd shrugged in acknowledgment. “That’s true. But why would Chanel tie herself to Basayev’s murder by putting her own necklace around his neck—one that she knew I’d definitely recognize?”
Shepherd made a very good point there. And then I thought of another angle. “Could it have been her ex?”
“He’s who I thought of,” Shepherd admitted. “If she left the necklace behind, he could’ve had access to it.”
“So he kills Basayev and frames Chanel for the murder out of revenge?”
“I’ve seen people murdered for a lot less.”
“Would he have known who he was murdering?”
“Hard to say,” Shepherd said. “If he did, he wanted Chanel dead too, because no way would the mob let that stand.”
“Did Chanel say anything to you about this guy’s identity?”
“No,” Shepherd said. “She shut down, almost completely, when I told her about the necklace and the lipstick. I think she went into a state of shock, and I was hoping to get her to come out of it by keeping her nearby in the only safe place I could legally put her, but then you sprung her out of jail and now she’s in the wind.”
“And her grandaunt is dead too. Murdered by the same guy?”
“Probably,” Shepherd said sadly.
“It means this guy is playing for keeps, Steve.”
“It does.”
“Let’s hope he doesn’t find out about your affair with Chanel.”
Shepherd winced, and I could tell that maybe I’d pushed it just a hair too far. He cleared his throat and glanced at his watch. “I gotta get back,” he said. “The captain wasn’t done chewing me out for withholding evidence. I don’t think he’s buying the ‘I forgot’ defense.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I said, because I was.
Shepherd shrugged again, and turned to leave. I followed him to the door, feeling like there was so much between us that had been left unsaid, and as lengthy and revealing as our conversation just now had been, it hadn’t been the real conversation we could’ve had.
Shepherd opened the door, and I could see that it was raining now in earnest. I was about to offer him an umbrella when he turned to me, stepped in close, and held my head gently as he peered into my eyes. “I know you feel lied to,” he said softly. “I know that you might even feel betrayed, but if I can look past whatever’s going on with you and Grinkov, maybe you can look past whatever happened between me and Chanel.”
My eyes widened, as the full weight of his words settled into my chest like a lead fist. My God, I’d been such a hypocrite! I opened my mouth to attempt an apology, but Shepherd stopped me by grazing my lips with his own again, then pressing his forehead to mine for a brief moment while that current between us charged up to new voltage, and I reached up my own hands to cover his.
But then he abruptly released me to turn and walk out into the rain.
And I was left wanting more.
After Shepherd exited my drive, I grabbed an umbrella and scurried over to Chez Kitty.
Coming through the door shaking the umbrella, I found Gilley deep in conversation on his cell.
“Mmmhmm,” he said. “I understand. Yes. Yes, that’s true, but I still think it’s premature. I know, I was there. . . .”
Seeing me, Gilley covered the microphone with his finger and whispered, “It’s Willem.”
“Really?” I whispered back. “Is he okay?”
Gilley shook his head and then lifted his hand from the microphone. “Willem, Cat’s just arrived here at the office. Let me put her on, okay? Just a moment while I transfer the call.”
Gilley clicked the mute button and thrust his phone at me. “He wants to quit.”
I took the phone. “Quit? Quit what?”
“Us.”
“What? Why?”
“He’s decided to let the curse win. He says he’s lived nearly thirty-five years at his grandmother’s estate, what’s another forty more?”
“That’s ridiculous,” I said, clicking the mute button again. “Willem? Hello, it’s Catherine. What’s this nonsense I hear that you want to quit?”
“It’s nothing personal, Catherine, I swear. Both you and Gilley have been great. But I’m worried that we’re pushing too hard, and the next time someone really will get hurt. I couldn’t live with that on my conscience.”
I sat down and tried to think of something, anything to convince Willem to hang in there. “But don’t you also think we’re very close to breaking the curse?” I asked him. “Willem, this thing can’t keep offering up disasters at this rate, and I believe my friend Heath when he says that the best way to break the curse is to push it to its limits. If we keep finding these wide open spaces for you to explore, then the curse has to work that much harder to cause trouble, and if we keep going I just know we can send it packing once and for all.”
But Willem was not to be persuaded. “Catherine, I’m very sorry, but I just can’t risk it. What if one of you had been seriously hurt? Or Audra? Or even one of the alpacas? It would kill me if an innocent creature was hurt because of me.”
“Well, then we won’t go anywhere near furry creatures or people,” I said, and the moment I said it I knew how ridiculous it sounded. Where would that have been, exactly? The moon?
For his part, Willem seemed to overlook it. “You’re very kind to want to help me but my decision is final.”
My shoulders sagged. I could tell there was no argument I could make that would convince him. With a sad sigh I said, “Well, I suppose I’ll have to honor your wishes, Willem, but I want you to know that, should you change your mind at any point in the future, Gilley and I will be there for you, all right?”
“Thank you,” Willem said simply, but there was a small hitch in his voice, and it just about broke my heart to hear it.
After hanging up I looked sadly at Gilley, who stared back in sympathy. “Oh, puddin’, it’s been a day, hasn’t it?”
“And it’s not even lunchtime,” I sighed.
Gilley came over to wrap his arm around my shoulders and squeeze. “What happened with Shepherd?”
“He had an affair with Chanel,” I said, stating the most important part of the story.
Gilley backed his chin up. “No!”
“Yes.” I sighed again. It still stung to think of the fact that Shepherd had cheated on Lenny.
Gilley understood. “That hits a little too close to home, huh?”
“A bit. But he also called me out for my relationship with Maks, and I know it sort of makes me a hypocrite to feel disappointed with Shepherd when I’ve been romantic with two men—”
“In the same week!” Gil interrupted. I cocked a warning eyebrow at Gilley
, but he just grinned at me, lifting his hands high in celebration. “Congratulations!”
“Who am I turning into?” I said wearily, moving to the sofa.
Gilley came to sit as well and he took up my hand. “You are who you’ve always been, Cat. And that’s what both these men find so attractive, which is why you should take both suitors seriously. Tom never fully appreciated your strong, independent side. In fact, he was threatened by it, but both Maks and Shepherd seem to find that one of your more desirable traits. So the only thing you need to decide—and mind you, you don’t even have to decide that now—is who do you want to continue seeing?”
I looked at Gilley and grateful tears formed in my eyes. Sometimes, he was so wise it was surprising. Of course, he also sprinkled these wisdoms with lots of ill-timed, not-so-perfect comments, but I had a little of that same trait myself, so I didn’t feel right to judge.
“Thank you, Gilley.”
He patted my hand. “Anytime. Now! Tell me what else Shepherd said about Chanel and that necklace.”
I filled Gilley in on the entirety of the conversation, and when I was done, Gil seemed good and puzzled. “So, our new working theory is that Chanel’s ex murdered Basayev and is trying to frame her for murder?”
“Yes,” I said. “I guess so.”
“Wow,” Gilley said. “That’s a profoundly stupid move, given who Basayev was.”
“But it almost makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, the only two people who would’ve had the gall to kill a mafia kingpin would’ve been either someone who knew exactly who he was, and was trying to make a power grab, or someone who didn’t know who he was—perhaps thought only that he was some rich guy trying to sell his house—and that made him the perfect target for the framing of Chanel.”
“Who does Shepherd think it was?”
“He didn’t specifically point to any theories.”
Gilley got up and paced for a bit, tapping his finger to his lip. I smiled, because that was typically my signature move. “This is all so complicated,” he said. “And it doesn’t explain Jason Sutton’s murder.”
“Maybe they’re not connected,” I said.
“The only way to know for sure is if the same gun was used. What do the ballistics say?” Gilley asked me.
To Coach a Killer Page 26