It’s my life, damn it.
“I don’t have to explain my decisions to a fourteen-year-old girl—or you. I told you—it’s over with Jordan.”
“Why?” Sarah’s mulish expression was the last straw.
“Because I said so!” Tilly had had enough of the good cop–bad cop routine. She got to her feet and picked up her purse and shoes. “I’m goin’ to my room—and I’m puttin’ both of you on notice—this subject is closed. You two are headed back to Tennessee tomorrow.”
Both started complaining at once, but she blocked them out. Once inside her bedroom, she locked the door and flopped on top of the duvet, arms spread, her feet dangling over the edge. Swirls of plaster on the ceiling caught her attention. One reminded her of the way the sprinkling of hair on Jordan’s chest arrowed down his lovely abs. Another took on the shape of his eye. Soon, his face superimposed itself on the ceiling, and she had to blink several times to assure herself it was only her imagination. She rolled over onto her stomach and beat an innocent pillow. The bed linens had been changed, but she swore she could still smell Jordan’s scent.
She had to face it—she had a Jordan addiction. It would take more than a twelve-step program to get it under control. Going cold turkey was the only option, especially if she had to work with him more often than not. She rolled back over and sat up. Moping around wasn’t getting her anywhere. But what to do? She’d never felt at loose ends before, and she damned him for taking away her peace of mind.
There was only one option. She had to suck it up and deal with the consequences of her actions—even if her heart regretted it. Every day she’d waited for Jordan to pull a stunt like Jake. The lie about Juliette and his stupid deal with Gretchen had proved her right.
She closed her eyes and pulled in a cleansing breath. Letting it out, she repeated a mantra, again and again. Forget Jordan. Forget Jordan. Forget Jordan. Forget Jake… Now she’d have to start the mantra over.
Chapter Twenty-One
Jordan sat with his feet on his desk, using a big rubber band to shoot small erasers at the window. His mind worked overtime trying to come up with game plan to face the future. One that included Tilly. The other was too bleak to contemplate. Leaving her alone was harder than he’d anticipated, but there wasn’t any other option at this point. Two days ago she’d told him they were over and meant every word. The gamble grew dicier with each passing hour.
He let fly with another missile, but it bounced back and hit him between the eyes. Story of my life.
A knock on his office door broke his unproductive navel gazing. With any luck it would be Tilly, throwing herself at his feet and begging forgiveness. He knew better. She’d spit in his eye before that ever happened. “Come in,” he shouted. He fitted more ammo into the rubber band.
Hank’s head appeared around the door. “I see you’re armed and dangerous.”
“Armed. Dangerous, not so much.” He released the rubber band, and the eraser hit Hank in the chest. “What’s up?”
“Just thought I’d drop by and let you know Detective Crespo was definitely pushed in front of the bus. The CSU video team said there wasn’t any printing or emblems on the hoodie the perp wore. His face was obscured. No one could give us a good description.”
“You could’ve phoned. Why are you here?”
Hank scrunched his face up in an expression that Jordan had seen a hundred times. His friend was trying to get out of fessing up. “A little bird told me you and Tilly broke up.”
“Who?” Jordan had been trying to keep that little bit of information on the down low, but someone had blabbed.
“I don’t squeal on my informants.”
“Ruby or Sarah?” They’d left several messages and texts for Jordan, but he’d decided it would be better to cut off all communication. If Tilly wanted a clean break, she’d get one—even if it left him bleeding inside. The shoot for the pilot had been his trial by fire. Even the blonde with the gravity-defying boobs hadn’t given his earthbound libido liftoff. He aimed his makeshift slingshot at Hank’s nose.
His friend held up his hands in surrender. “The kid.”
Jordan nodded. He’d figured as much. Ruby would flat-out come over and give Jordan a piece of her mind. Tilly must have sworn her to silence. Sarah was too young to let a little thing like her mother sway her from a crusade to get them back together. Strange, since he didn’t think she was that fond of him, but he wasn’t about to turn down help where he could get it.
“Sorry about that.” A twinge of guilt niggled at Jordan. It was bad enough Hank had literally picked him up from the mess he’d made of his life. Now Sarah had stuck his friend square in the center of Tilly and Jordan’s messy relationship.
Hank sat on the edge of Jordan’s desk and picked another rubber band from the dish by the computer. “You weren’t going to tell me? I saw Tilly on the way in. She wasn’t her perky self, but she didn’t say anything, either.”
Jordan leaned down to pick an eraser off the floor and launched it across the room.
Hank shrugged when he wasn’t forthcoming. “Okay, whatever. I’m not your shrink. Just your friend.”
“What am I supposed to say?” The last thing he needed right now was Hank going all Dr. Phil on him. “That I got a Dear John boot to the head?”
“Why?”
“You were right. I should’ve told her about Juliette, but she’s got commitment phobias. I knew that at the beginning but hoped she’d get over them. I tried to fix it, but nothing worked.” Jordan threw the rubber band into the bowl and put his feet back on the floor. “She wants out. I have to honor that.”
“Bullshit.” This time Hank fired an eraser at the light fixture on the ceiling. “If you love something let it go. Then hunt it down, bag it, and tag it.”
“As Ruby would say, ’t’ain’t funny, McGee.” He frowned up at Hank. “You’re a cop. That’s stalking.”
Hank rolled his eyes. “I’m not suggesting you grab her by the hair and haul her into a cave.”
“Sounded pretty damned close to me.”
“I get it. She has an issue, but—”
Jordan held up his hand. “She had a whole list of issues.”
“You two are perfect together. Any fool can see that.”
“I did a lot of thinking lately.” Jordan made a horizontal motion with his hand. “She’s right. I steamrolled over her like I knew what I was doing.”
“I still say you need to talk to her—make her see reason.”
“Nope.” He stood and picked up the multitude of mini erasers from the floor. “There’s no way I can convince her that I’m not like Jake or that other dude who jerked her around.”
Hank gave him a look that said he’d have to do better.
“Okay, okay.” He threw the erasers back into the dish on his desk. “I’ve done my fair share of damage. I’m not even sure if she’ll talk to me, let alone take me back.”
“You got to take the first step, man.” Hank slapped him on the shoulder. “One foot in front of the other.”
…
Tilly sat holding her phone in her lap. She stared down at a photo of her and Jordan in happier times. It was a selfie they’d taken in front of the Players Club in Gramercy Park during a rare bit of time they had off. They’d marveled at the Victorian architecture of the house and wanted a souvenir of their day together.
A pain started in her chest and welled outward to swallow her whole.
She remembered how she’d smiled and taken the picture the instant he’d puckered up and kissed her on the cheek. He looked so ornery.
“You moonin’ over that boy again?” Ruby strolled into the living room with a glass of lemonade in her hand and stared at the picture from over the back of the couch.
“Don’t snoop in my private business.” Tilly hit the off button, and the photo went dark. “And no, I was gettin’ ready to delete a bunch of pictures from my phone.”
“That one’s a keeper.” Ruby came around the couch
, lowered her scrawny frame, and picked up the remote control from end table. “I think I need my daily dose of Dr. Phil. I TiVoed it so I can watch it when the kid ain’t around. Pretty gritty stuff. You oughta listen to him sometime. He’ll set you straight.”
“I don’t think so.” Tilly put her phone on the coffee table. “Where is Sarah?” After her break from Jordan, she’d relented on sending both of them home. She hated to admit it, but she didn’t want to be alone.
“Doin’ her homework.” Ruby flipped through the programs on the TiVo until she found what she wanted. “It’s a good thing you could get the school to forward her homework for the next week. She needs you right now.”
Guilt over Sarah added another layer of hurt onto her devastated heart. She pasted on a smile in hopes she could fake it until she made it. “I’m surprised to see her actually bucklin’ down to do her work.”
“She’s not ready to go back to Tennessee.”
“What about you?” Tilly lifted an eyebrow. “This place is the size of my master bedroom at home.”
“I’ll admit it’s a tad cozy, but this way I can work on my pie recipe without Mabel Yoder breathin’ down my back.” Ruby sipped her lemonade and winked. “Besides, the sofa is comfy, and I got the TV in here. That way I can watch Dr. Phil and Dr. Who all I want.”
Tilly shook her head, and a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth. “What’s with you and doctors?”
Ruby set her glass down on the end table. “Both are founts of wisdom.”
“If you say so.”
“You’re givin’ me the blues. Bluer than that slapdash paint job on this door you’re usin’ for a coffee table. Who ever heard of such a thing?” Ruby snorted in disgust. “Only white trash does stuff like that.”
“It’s called shabby chic. I saw it on TV last year.”
“See, that’s the reason you need to quit watchin’ crap like that and tune in to the good doctors.”
“Which one?”
“Take your pick.” Ruby finally settled on a program. “I think I’ll watch this one on broken relationships and liars.” Soon the familiar theme music started, and the famous television psychologist walked out.
There was no way Tilly could sit and listen while Ruby scanned her face for a reaction.
“I’m goin’ out for a bit.” She stood, picked up her phone before she went into her tiny entryway, and grabbed a lightweight jacket from the coat hook. She decided to go to the coffee shop down the street and get a mocha latte. Coffee wasn’t usually her go-to drink, but right now she needed something hot and full of empty calories. Why, oh why did a broken heart require chocolate and whipped cream?
There was some work she needed to do for her restaurants, but her laptop was in her bedroom. That left her iPad. She could still write a few letters and get those off her to-do list. She thrust it into her voluminous bag and heeded out the door.
The night was cool, but spring blossoms painted the trees in white and pink. Lamplight shone through new leaves in a haze of soft green. The scent of growing things filtered through the smell of concrete and asphalt.
She went into the coffee shop, where the deep aroma of brewing beans hung heavy in the air. It beckoned her to the counter. She gave her order and found an empty booth to set up her iPad. A few minutes of looking at the local news was enough to send her into a tailspin. She dug her phone from her purse and called Hank.
“Tapper here.”
“Hank, this is Tilly. I just saw that Lena’s bein’ charged with both murders.”
“The department thought Crespo had enough circumstantial evidence to warrant it.” There was a pause. “I’m surprised Jordan didn’t tell you.”
The never-ending ache threatened to swamp her again. “We don’t speak anymore.”
“You see each other every day. What about the new show?”
“We just did the pilot. It doesn’t start shootin’ until the end of June.” She didn’t know how much to confide in Hank, considering he was the other half of the bromance. “I’m sure he’s filled you in on what’s happening.”
“Coward.”
“I’m not a coward.” She pouted, even though Hank was all the way across town and couldn’t see her. “It’s better this way.”
“Why?”
“Look, I didn’t call to talk about my love life.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Can you get me into Rikers to see Lena?”
“Why?”
“She doesn’t have any next of kin that I know of. Lordy, that sounds so Little Orphan Annie. I think she’d like to see a familiar face.” She had a hunch that Lena was holding back information, but she didn’t want to say anything until she spoke to the woman face-to-face. “Please.”
Hank waited for two whole heartbeats before answering her plea. “Sure. I’ll contact the commissioner’s office to get any paperwork expedited. Be sure to bring ID—and Tilly?”
“Yes?”
“Leave that big purse of yours at home. Don’t take any jewelry and electronics you want to keep. It’s not day camp. It’s not like anything you’re used to. I’ll arrange it for tomorrow. Take quarters for the lockers.”
“Got it. Thanks.” Hank’s advice left her with the willies. What was she getting into? And if it was that bad, how did Lena stand being shut up in a place like Rikers?
…
The next day Tilly wasn’t so sure she should be thanking Hank. He was right. It was a hellhole. If she had to be searched one more time, she’d end up in the cell next to Lena’s. Nightmares would haunt her for a long time to come. The lines were inhuman and the guards terse. Nothing had prepared her for the reality of the prison. She couldn’t imagine Lena being locked up in there.
She finally made it to the visitors’ room and sat in a plastic lawn chair. Lena arrived through the door and threw herself into Tilly’s arms with a sob. The guard cleared her throat, a sign the hug had lasted way too long by prison standards. Lena let go of her stranglehold and sat opposite her in an identical chair.
“Hands on the table at all times,” the corrections officer called out in reminder.
Tilly made sure her hands were lying palms down. “How have you been?” Her colleague’s face sported a faint purple bruise around her left eye, as well as a split lip.
“What do you think?” Lena glanced around the grim visiting room. “I don’t recommend this as an alternative to Los Angeles or Vegas. I still get to work in the kitchen.” Her self-deprecating laugh reeked of misery. She gingerly touched her bruised cheek. “A crazy crackhead jumped me, but I didn’t fight back. I didn’t want to lose my visiting privileges.”
Tilly started to reach across the table for Lena’s hand until the guard snapped, “You do, and you’re out of here.”
“Sorry.” She pulled her hand back. “This is horrible.”
“I’m just glad you’re here.” Lena raked her fingers through her white-blond hair, which now showed brown roots. She swallowed back a sob. “The only other person who’s braved this place is my lawyer.”
The murmur of voices shifted in the stale air and mixed with toddlers’ whines, crying babies, and softly bickering couples.
“I needed to see how you were doin’.” She paused for a second, gathering her thoughts and how to broach the subject of the murder. A glance at the clock told her the direct approach would have to do. “There’s one other thing.”
“What?”
“I’m…I mean, Jordan and I are still tryin’ to help with the investigation.”
Lena shook her head. “There’s nothing more I can tell anyone other than what was in my statement. My lawyer would have my liver for lunch.”
“Okay. I understand. It’s, well, I’m not askin’ for anything else. More of the mood. You told me you had a fight with both of them and left.”
Lena blinked and looked up at the ceiling. “The evening started out okay. Gretchen and I made dinner. We ate, drank a little wine. Make that a lot of wine. The conversation turned toward our fight in
the studio. I laughed and told him to quit being such an asshole.”
“I can imagine how David took that remark.” Tilly had to agree with her assessment of David, but with his personality, those were fighting words.
“Yeah. Match, meet gasoline. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.” She heaved a sigh. “He went ape shit. The louder he got, the louder I got.”
“That must have upset Gretchen, especially since the dinner was her idea? She wanted you and David to be happy. Why, the other day she told me how close you were, that the two of you would go for girls’ nights out, shoppin’—that sort of thing. She was upset she’d miss the shoppin’ trip the two of you had planned, you know, because of the fight in the studio.”
Lena rolled her eyes. “I don’t know where she gets that shit. We went to the movies once. That’s it. I had to be nice to her. She’s one of my bosses and David’s sister.”
“I got the idea you were BFFs.”
“In her dreams. She smothers people. Her social skills suck.” Lena glanced down at her chipped manicure. “Gretchen was fawning, sticking her nose in David’s and my business. She kept touching my arm and stroking it,” she said with a shudder, “until I told her to back off. I snapped.” She scraped a hand through her hair again. “I yelled that I wasn’t her lover; I was David’s. My mouth went right on without the brain putting on the brakes. I told her I wouldn’t be attracted to her even if I did swing that way. She went so white. David just laughed and sat down in his chair. He passed out.” Lena rubbed her arms as if to ward off a chill. “Gretchen and I had a long talk while he was sleeping it off. I apologized. Even said we could take in the movie she wanted to see the next day. She smiled at me a told me everything was okay. She understood how David could be. The rest you know.”
Tilly wondered if Lena’s thoughtless words had struck a nerve too close to home for Gretchen. Was that the real reason Gretchen had canceled Lena’s show?
“Did you tell the police what you just told me?”
Lena shook her head. “No. It didn’t occur to me that it would matter.”
Murder Love on the Menu Page 22