by T. E. Woods
Clay responded to her direction automatically. “No. No voicemails, either.”
“Call him.”
Clay kept his attention on her while he waited for Steel to answer. She tried to read his eyes, but got nothing more than an empty stare. He jerked his focus away.
“Steel, it’s Dad.” He must have gotten the voicemail. “Where are you?” Clay got up and walked toward the picture window. “Never mind. Just come home. Now. Please. It’s important.” She could see him struggling to keep his voice steady. “I love you.”
He disconnected and for some reason handed her his phone. She set it down on the coffee table and took his hand. “Clay, you told Horst that Steel and Miranda had a falling-out. What was that about?”
He looked away for a moment and inhaled slowly before answering. “It was a couple of days ago. After you brought her…her lingerie back to me. I went to confront her.”
“You went to The Edgewater? To her hotel room?”
“Yes. I wanted her to know she wasn’t welcome here. Steel was there.”
“And he found out about what she’d done on Christmas?” She tried to imagine a son’s embarrassment upon learning his mother’s attempt at seduction had been foiled. “Is that what happened?”
“No. He was asleep in another room when I spoke to Miranda about her…shenanigans.”
Sydney frowned. “Then what did they fight about?”
“Miranda had a young woman staying with her. Some sort of mentoring program.”
“Tawney. I met her on Christmas Eve. At Hush Money.”
“She came to your place? Why didn’t you tell me?” Clay shook his head in frustration. “Evidently Miranda was supposed to keep this girl on the straight and narrow. Some program her church ran, from what I gathered.”
“What’s that got to do with Steel?”
“Tawney wasn’t in the suite like Miranda thought. She came back while I was there, and it was obvious she was high. Miranda flipped out. Things got ugly real fast. Steel tried to get in the middle. Told his mother to calm down.”
“Did she?”
“No. Miranda threw Tawney out of the suite like she was a worthless rag. The girl begged for another chance, kept telling her that she had nowhere else to go. She was crying; Miranda was having none of it. Steel finally saw his mother through different eyes.”
“That poor kid. And Tawney?”
“We tried to catch up with her. Couldn’t find her. She’s probably on the streets somewhere.”
Sydney glanced out the window. Two feet of snow covered the ground, with more expected. She wondered where a helpless young woman would find shelter. “How angry was Steel?”
“Are you suggesting Steel killed his mother?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. But I know Horst. He’s…He’s going to follow up on your comment about Steel’s argument with Miranda.”
Clay stood and paced the room. She watched him for more than a minute, her mind racing with what to ask and how to phrase it.
“I last saw you on New Year’s Eve,” she said finally. “What did you do after that?”
He stopped and stared. “Are you asking for an alibi, Sydney?”
His earlier words rang in her mind.
I’ve taken care of Miranda…She’s not a threat…
“You need to start backtracking, Clay. Horst is the best at what he does. And if he trained Jillian, she is, too. They’re going to ask you about dates and times. You have to be able to recall where you were. What you were doing. Who you were with.”
Clay stepped toward the window. He stood there, hands on his hips, surveying the outside world as though searching for answers to questions not yet asked. When he finally turned to face her, his eyes were distant.
“It’s time for you to go, Sydney.”
She got to her feet, confused by his empty tone. “I can stay. I can be here when you talk to Steel…”
“No,” he interrupted. “He’s my son. It’s best if I handle this alone.” He walked to the closet and returned with her coat, scarf, and hat.
“Clay…”
“Goodbye, Sydney.”
Chapter 21
“What’s Horst say about all this?” Nancy Richardson sat across the desk in Sydney’s office, her face a study in maternal concern. “Does he want you to stay away from Clay? The cops always look at the husband first, you know. And most times they don’t have to look an inch farther.”
Clay is not, nor has he ever been, Miranda’s husband. Sydney realized the distinction was more important to her than to her mother.
They had less than an hour before Hush Money opened for the evening. Sydney hadn’t planned to mention the morning’s events until she and her mother could have a quiet drink after the restaurant closed. But it had only taken one look at her daughter’s face for Nancy to realize something was terribly wrong. She knew her mother well enough to understand Nancy would be like a compass seeking north until she knew every detail about what was bothering her girl.
“He told me to be careful.”
Nancy crossed her arms over her ample bosom. “Then that’s exactly what you’ll do. Steer clear of Clay, his son, anyone and anything associated with that dead woman. You hear me?”
“I’m not ten years old, Mom.”
“Then act like it. I know you, Syd. You’re looking for a way to get yourself smack in the middle of this mess. Just like you did with the Millerman thing.” Nancy alluded to Sydney’s intrusion into a murder investigation the year before.
“And I was right, wasn’t I?”
Nancy’s face flushed crimson. “I don’t care! Right, wrong. It makes no difference to me! The last time you got involved in something like this a couple of bullets whizzed closed enough to your head you felt the breeze. Those same bullets nearly killed Ronnie! That’s what happens when you stick your nose into murderous business, Sydney. Promise me you’ll do what Horst says. You need to stay far away from Clay until this sorts itself out.”
She knew her mother meant nothing more than to protect her only child. She also knew her mother was right. The police would look at Clay first. And he’d been furious enough with Miranda the past few days that she wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t the only person who knew it.
“Let’s focus on making sure our guests have a wonderful night, okay, Mom?”
Nancy didn’t look eager to let the subject drop. “Make me a promise. Stay here all evening. Hush Money, the Ten-Ten, doesn’t matter to me. Just stay on the premises.”
“You mean don’t go to Clay’s place.”
“I mean let me keep my eyes on you. Humor me, Syd. The last thing I want is a call that you’re in the ER. Been there, done that, kiddo. After we close shop here we’ll go to the Ten-Ten for a nice long chat. Horst will likely be there.”
“Which means a tag-team lecture.”
“Do we have a deal?”
Sydney flashed on Clay’s dismissal of her earlier that morning. His disappointment in her felt more like disgust. She was certain he would need a few days before he was ready to talk to her again.
“We have a deal,” she promised her mother. “Now, let’s try to bring some normal back into our lives, okay? Let’s get out there and do what we do best.”
Nancy seemed reluctant, but she played along. “Pamper Madison’s pampered?”
Sydney took a moment to savor the wave of love that washed over her every time she saw her mother smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”
* * *
—
Hush Money was busy enough to distract most people, but Sydney wasn’t one of them. Despite a full house, fuller bar, and the jovial demeanor of her guests, she couldn’t force her mind to stay focused on work.
I hope Clay remembers what I warned him about. He and Steel need to remember where th
ey were every minute leading up to Miranda’s murder.
Roland fixed her a plate. Anita added a glass of a wine from a small vineyard in Bordeaux she’d recently discovered. Her mother made it a point to find her several times throughout the evening and drop a tidbit of gossip she’d overheard while tending the crowd. Their well-meaning efforts were ineffective. Sydney’s thoughts kept drifting back to Clay. When she locked the front door behind Hush Money’s last departing customer, she turned to find Anita and her mother standing shoulder to shoulder.
“Go on, Sydney.” Anita’s lilting accent made her direct command sound like an invitation to a waltz. “Go grab a drink with your mum next door. I’ll oversee closing.”
“But…”
“We have a deal, kiddo.” Nancy stepped forward, reached for Sydney’s hand, and tugged her toward the kitchen. “Time to get you out of this funk.”
Nancy led her daughter down the hallway linking Hush Money to the Ten-Ten. Sydney could have told her she didn’t need to maintain such a firm grip. She was so eager to learn what Horst might have to share that she was willing to overlook the lecture she knew was sure to come.
They were greeted by the sound of Huey Lewis and The News singing from the jukebox about the heart of rock and roll. It was just past ten o’clock. The clientele at Hush Money may have called it an evening, but the crowd at Ten-Ten was just getting started. Most tables were full. Every seat at the bar was taken. Sydney scanned the space, looking for Horst. She felt a tug of regret when she didn’t see him.
She was surprised to feel something stronger when she saw Rick Sheffield wasn’t there, either.
Nancy called out a greeting to Roscoe before leading the way to a table in the corner.
“Since when do we hold tables?” Sydney asked as her mother whisked a RESERVED sign off the wooden surface.
“Since I called Roscoe and told him to. Now sit.” Nancy settled in next to her. A waitress Sydney didn’t recognize appeared a heartbeat later and set a glass of pinot grigio in front of her before handing Nancy a frosted mug of pale ale.
“Who’s that?” Sydney asked after the young woman left. “And how does she know what I drink?”
“That’s Gitch. I hired her last week. Roscoe gets swamped at night. Gitch started the day after Christmas. Great, isn’t she? Comes with terrific references. Roscoe says she’s already got customers asking for her.”
“Where’d she come from?”
“Jojo’s Pub. You know the place?”
“I do.” Sydney sipped her drink and watched the new server make her way back to the bar. She liked how she stopped at every table, smiling and checking on her customers. As always, her mother had made certain things ran smoothly. “Gitch?”
Nancy shrugged. “Who knows? Could be short for something. I don’t ask anymore. Not after I got my foot caught in my mouth with that dishwasher.”
“You mean Gumdrop?”
“Hey! How was I to know it was the name his parents gave him? Who does that to a kid?”
Sydney hadn’t realized her body was so tense until she felt it relax in laughter shared with her mother.
“Tell me what’s so funny,” a familiar voice urged. “I could use a knee-slapper about now.”
Sydney turned to see Horst standing behind her. Rick Sheffield was at his side. She gestured toward the two empty chairs at their table. Rick took the one next to her. She looked up, prepared to signal for a server, but Gitch was already walking toward them.
“Evening, gentlemen.” Gitch nudged each man’s shoulder. Sydney could read their faces well enough to see neither was offended at the casual familiarity of the charming new waitress. “The usual? And don’t remind me. Drinks on me if I mess it up.”
“Far be it from me to turn down a free libation,” Horst answered. “The usual it is.”
“She looks up to the test,” Rick said. “Besides, you’re as predictable as the calendar, Horst.”
“Look who’s talking,” Gitch teased, grinning. “Care to make a side bet I get yours right, too?”
Rick reached into his pocket, pulled out a five dollar bill, and slapped it on the table. “Seeing as how you’ve waited on me a grand total of once, this fin is yours if you call it.”
Gitch’s confident salute as she turned to head back to the bar brought a smile to Sydney’s lips. She was exactly the kind of server who would do well at the Ten-Ten.
“You two done for the day?” Sydney already knew the answer. This meeting wasn’t coincidental. Her mother and Horst would be in cahoots to warn her off any dealings with Clay until Miranda’s case was closed. She was, however, intrigued to know why Rick was there.
“Ah! Kitz,” Horst said, “you know a cop working a murder is like a dog with a bowl of bacon. He’s never going to quit until the last morsel is gobbled up.”
Sydney turned to Rick. “Are you chewing at the same bowl?”
“First homicide case,” he answered.
“We’re breaking in his shiny new detective shield,” Horst added.
Sydney felt a pang of paranoia. She didn’t need Rick digging into a case that could involve Clay, even peripherally. Not after that New Year’s kiss.
“I thought Jillian was working this one with you,” she said.
“She is. But this one requires more legs and eyes,” Horst clarified.
“Oh?” Sydney kept her eyes on Horst, hoping to get a read. “Why’s that?”
“Just does.” Horst leveled a stare laced with warning. “Steer clear of this, Kitz. I know this Hawthorne is important to you, but my team’s been busy all day. And things don’t look good.”
It wasn’t six weeks ago that Horst and Clay had sat at her Thanksgiving table laughing and trading Super Bowl predictions. Now he was this Hawthorne.
“What murder case ever does?” Her defensiveness was clear as she turned her attention to Rick. “Are you able to keep your bias out of this investigation?”
Gitch came to the table before he had a chance to answer. She set a tall dark beer in front of Horst.
“Ayinger Celebrator Doppelbock,” she announced. “A frosty kiss of Bavaria right here in Madison.”
“You got me!” Horst hoisted his glass in admiration to Gitch, who then put a mug in front of Rick.
“This one didn’t have to travel so far,” she said. “Spotted Cow.”
Rick shook his head in defeat. “That’s my brew.” He handed her the five dollar bill. “What can I say? I like what Wisconsin offers.”
Gitch’s smile was satisfied without being smug. Sydney appreciated the way she laid the five dollar reward on her tray as she turned to go about her business. The Ten-Ten wasn’t the kind of establishment where side bets got tucked inside bras.
“She’s a keeper,” Rick announced as he took a sip.
“Can you answer my question?” Sydney persisted.
Rick looked to Horst and Nancy. Then he turned back to her. “You sure you want to discuss this now?” he asked evenly.
“I don’t ask anything unless I’m ready to hear the answer.”
“So what you want to know is, given my feelings for you, can I do the job the good people of Madison pay me to do?”
“What’s this now?” Horst nearly choked on his beer. “Feelings?”
“Calm down, Horst.” Nancy handed him a napkin. “If you can’t see what’s simmering between these two you’re not half the detective Joe thought you were.”
“Nothing is simmering,” Sydney corrected. “I just get the sense Rick may not be able to remain totally objective on matters involving Clay.”
“Is that right?” Horst asked. “There something I should know, Detective Sheffield?”
“I’m going to do my job.” Rick kept his eyes locked on Sydney’s while he answered his boss. “You need to know more than that?”
Horst cocked his head. “I do not. But if anything changes, you let me know.”
“So, what can you two tell us?” Nancy asked. “I mean, it’s pretty clear this Miranda woman was stalking Sydney.”
“She wasn’t doing any such thing,” Sydney insisted. “She was in town on some kind of church business. She spent the bulk of her time with Steel. I had very little interaction with her.”
“Then what do you call her moving into your building?” Nancy shot back.
Horst leaned in. “That so, Kitz? We’ve got her at The Edgewater.”
Sydney avoided the temptation to kick her mother under the table. “And you’ve got it right. But she told me…Christmas Eve, she and Steel came into Hush Money for dinner, and she told me that she hoped to find a place in Madison. She said she was looking at a unit in my building.”
“With all the condos in town?” Rick was frowning.
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Nancy added. “I was a cop’s wife too long to believe in coincidences. If you ask me, that woman had more on her mind than whatever her church wanted her to do. And coming between Sydney and Clay was a big part of it.”
“You know nothing about her motives, Mom.” Sydney knew she was defending Clay more than Miranda. “Miranda had particular tastes. She checked out the Marina. As far as I know she’d done nothing more than that.”
“Did Hawthorne know his ex-wife was looking to buy in your building?” Rick asked.
“His name’s Clay,” Sydney said crisply. “And Miranda wasn’t his ex-wife.”
“Did that bother him?” Rick didn’t respond to her correction of the relationship. “It would bother me if my ex lived next door to my current.”
“You’ll have to ask Clay. But if you’re thinking he had anything to do with Miranda’s murder, you’re wrong.”
Rick’s smile was slow. “You say that being totally objective?”
Sydney folded her hands in her lap to keep from shoving herself away from the table. She turned to Horst. “You’re not going to tell me anything, are you?”