“Do you mind posing for a quick picture?”
Seriously? Now?
I reached across the passenger seat to unlock the door. “Gotta go, Mom.” Immediately.
“It was delightful to meet you, Renee,” Marietta said after spending a few more precious seconds posing for a selfie.
“May I call you for an interview? Maybe bring a photographer to get some newspaper-quality pictures?”
Marietta beamed as she eased into her seat. “Certainly. I’ll be in town for a couple more weeks and—”
“So you two will have plenty of opportunity to get together. Right now, we need to go.” Before a vehicle flashing blue and red lights pulled up behind me.
The instant my mother fastened her seatbelt, I tightened my grip around the steering wheel and hit the gas. “Oh, this is so not good.”
For the second time in my short career as Frankie’s special assistant, a local resident had called the cops on me. Add that to the chat Steve threatened to have with my boss, and I could probably kiss my job good-bye.
Marietta reached over and patted my thigh. “Everything’s going to be okay. We never entered the house, so if Steve happens to hear about this little incident, he’ll have nothing to get upset about. You’ll see.”
She didn’t know him like I did.
As if to prove my point, my cell phone started ringing in the tote bag I’d crammed behind my seat.
“Want me to get your phone, honey?”
“Nope.” I was quite certain that I’d be speaking to the caller face-to-face soon enough.
Chapter Twenty
“I ASSURE YOU that what happened was perfectly innocent,” Marietta said to Steve while I refilled her wine glass an hour later.
He shot me a look that felt more like a glancing blow as I joined her on my grandmother’s sofa. “Yeah, that’s pretty much the way the neighbor made it sound.”
Okay, so what I’d done wasn’t so perfect or innocent. “I know this doesn’t look good.”
Sitting to my left in a cushy arm chair, Steve vented a humorless chuckle. “You think? Especially after what you and I talked about yesterday.”
I hugged my arms to my chest to ward against the cold glare he was directing at me. “I can explain.”
He shook his head. “Save it.”
“Oh, my,” Marietta whispered in my ear. “Someone isn’t happy with you.”
Not helpful, Mom.
I needed the room so that I could clear the air. “Shouldn’t Barry be here soon?”
“When he called from the restaurant, he said he’d be here around eight-thirty.” She glanced at the clock chiming the half hour on the mantel and bolted upright. “I had no idea it was so late. I need to excuse myself and get ready, assuming that I’m not required to provide some sort of statement.”
Steve waved her away.
Leaning over to pick up her wine glass, my mother kissed the top of my head. “I’m sorry our evening together ended the way it did, but I still had a good time.”
Given the note this miserable week was ending on, to hear that Marietta thought I was a fun date came as little consolation.
“Be nice to my girl,” she said, slanting a pointed glance at Steve as she passed.
He didn’t respond to her. Instead, it looked like Steve was trying to burn a hole in the coffee table between us with the intensity of his stare.
When Marietta disappeared from view, he turned that stare on me.
I pasted a smile on my face to lighten the mood. “Are you sure you don’t want something to drink?”
He slowly shook his head.
I drained the last mouthful of wine from my glass and pushed away from the sofa. “Well, I’m going to get myself a refill.”
Steve stabbed his index finger in my direction. “Sit.”
I dropped back down on the seat cushion. “You’re supposed to be nice to me, not talk to me like the dog.”
“And you were supposed to stick to doing your job.”
“I just wanted to make sure that Rusty Naylor hadn’t left a door open at that house so that he could sneak in later tonight.”
“No self-respecting thief would be stupid enough to rip off the owners of the house he’d just painted ‘cause he’d be the first person I’d take in for questioning.”
“Oh.” Folding my arms back over my chest, I sunk a little deeper in the sofa. “Still, I’m happy to report that all the doors were locked, so no harm, no foul. Right?”
Steve’s lips flattened. “Pull another stunt like that and I’ll arrest you.”
“For what?”
“Trespassing, for starters.”
“You wouldn’t.”
He shifted to the edge of his chair and leaned toward me. “Take a good look and tell me what I would or wouldn’t do.”
I studied the disgruntled face of the man I loved. “Okay, maybe you would. But you’d at least feel bad about slapping a pair of handcuffs around my wrists, right?”
The corners of his mouth lifted. “I never have before.”
* * *
“Why is the DeLorean parked out front?” Barry asked when he arrived to pick up Marietta.
“It’s a long story.” One that I hoped the impossibly gorgeous woman descending the stairs would tell him.
“Hello, my darling.” Marietta extended her bejeweled hand to him as she stepped into the foyer and bussed his cheek. “How was your dinner with Jason?”
“Fine.” Frowning, Barry locked gazes with her. “Who drove the DeLorean over here?”
I waited for my mother to start explaining. Instead, she cast a nervous glance in my direction.
Swell. “That would be me.” Wanting nothing more to do with this conversation, I handed him the car keys.
Thunder rumbled behind my future stepfather’s eyes. “And why were you driving my car?”
Marietta patted his hand. “Our car.”
He gave her a long look. “I thought you gave it to me as an engagement present.”
She batted her eyelashes like an ingénue. “I did, but I knew you wouldn’t mind if we borrowed it for a little girls’ night out.”
“So, you were drinking and driving in my car?”
“Certainly not.” Marietta heaved a sigh as she swayed her hips toward the kitchen table, where she’d left her purse. “And Charmaine only drove it from her apartment to here, so it’s not like we were out joyriding.”
“Maybe not, but I’d prefer that this not happen again,” he said to me.
He needed to express that sentiment to his bride-to-be, not his former student. “Yes, sir.”
When Marietta returned, she peeked over my shoulder into the living room. “Did Steve go home?”
“Back to work.”
Pressing her palm against my cheek, she made a pretty pouty face. “I thought he might stay and you two could enjoy the rest of your evening together.”
Steve hadn’t appeared to be taking much enjoyment from my company when he left. But since I could guess which case was occupying his time, I was perfectly okay with keeping my own company this evening. “He’s got a lot going on tonight, but I’ll see him tomorrow.”
Marietta brightened. “At the funeral, right?”
I was surprised she was aware that Colt’s service was tomorrow afternoon. “Uh…right.”
“Not exactly the most fun kind of date to have on a Saturday,” she said, wrapping her arm around Barry’s, “but it’s still quality time.”
“You’re going?”
“Of course. Tami and I were quite close back in high school.”
That was clearly a lie—one that she must have wanted Barry to believe for some reason. Her business, and once again, his problem, not mine.
“Speaking of going,” Barry said, reaching for the doorknob. “Shall we?”
My mother flashed him a dazzling smile. “I’m ready. Oh, wait. Charmaine, how are you getting home?”
Not with them. That was for sure. “Steve can take me
after he gets off work.”
Barry motioned to me with his hand. “I’ll take you home.”
This was starting to feel like the school dance, when my ride disappeared on me, and Mr. Ferris, one of the faculty chaperones, drove me home. “That’s really not necessary.”
“I’ve got two cars out there, and I don’t want your mother driving,” he said in my ear as he handed me his keys.
That meant that history was going to repeat itself, whether I wanted it to or not. “Fine.”
Barry turned to Marietta. “It looks like it’s going to rain later, so you might want a jacket.”
She nodded. “Good thinking.”
The second she dashed up the stairs, Barry pulled me into the living room. “I don’t know what your intention was taking my car for this girls’ night out, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t encourage your mother’s impulsive behavior.”
I stared at him in disbelief.
Since before I was born, my mother’s behavior had been influenced by only two things: the men in her life, and her career.
It had taken me a while, but I eventually learned to be at peace with where I fell in the pecking order of her hierarchy of needs—and it certainly wasn’t as a person of influence.
“Since that impulsive behavior led to her giving you that car,” I blurted out before I lost my nerve, “if it’s a problem, you should be discussing that with her.”
He drew back, his cheeks ruddy as if I had slapped him. “I thought I could count on your support to help protect her hometown reputation. I guess I was wrong.”
Given the fact that my mother had served as the local cause célèbre ever since she brought her bastard daughter home to be raised in Port Merritt, it seemed a little late to worry about her reputation.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Marietta announced from the stairway, glancing first at Barry and then at me. “What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
Barry went to her, taking her hand. “Not at all.”
My mother had been blinded by love, but even she should have recognized the fact that her fiancé was holding something back.
“Then let’s go.” Marietta winked at me. “I’m sure Charmaine’s ready to get home.”
True. I just wasn’t looking forward to the ride home.
Chapter Twenty-One
“IT DOESN’T LOOK like Stevie’s here yet,” Gram said as she and I entered the Tolliver’s Funeral Home chapel.
Steve had sent me a text that he’d been called out earlier in the morning, so I had figured it was a given that he would be a little late.
I led the way toward the platinum blonde waving us over to the block of empty folding chairs surrounding her. “We’ll save him a seat.”
“That probably won’t be necessary.” Gram tsked. “There’s not much of a turnout.”
I stood at the end of the aisle where Lucille was waiting for us and scanned the small gathering of Colt’s family and friends dressed in somber shades of black and gray. Most were familiar faces.
The most familiar face in attendance belonged to the voluptuous woman wearing a curve-hugging aquamarine dress, stepping into the chapel with Barry Ferris.
“Don’t look now, but your daughter’s making her entrance,” Lucille said to Gram. “And she looks like she’s dressed to kill.”
Gram plopped down in the seat next to Lucille. “I don’t know where I went wrong with that girl.”
“You didn’t.” Just as I wasn’t responsible for any of her choices, no matter what Mr. Ferris thought. “Everyone knows she likes to play to her image.”
Lucille crooked a finger at me, so I edged past her big feet and took the seat to her left. “Have you been here for a while?” I asked her.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to miss anything in case the guy who whacked Colt showed up to have a few last words with him.”
Not that I subscribed to Lucille’s more outlandish theories, but if anyone went up to ask the guy in the oak casket for absolution, I wanted to know about it. “Anything to report?”
She sighed. “Not yet, but we have a few minutes before the service starts.”
Scooting to the edge of my seat, I craned my neck to get a good look at the occupants in the first two rows on the right. Other than Kendra’s husband, Damon, and their two kids, and a gray-haired man I assumed was Tami’s ex, I didn’t see anyone I hadn’t spoken with this week.
That wasn’t the case for the older gentleman sitting behind Eric Caldwell. “Who’s the suit sitting in the same row as the Pembrokes?”
“Glenn Ferguson. You know, the dude that owns the Ford dealership. I don’t know the kid who just walked up to him though.”
I did. Rusty Naylor.
“Nice-lookin’ fella,” Lucille said, leaning into me. “A little young for me, but I like his leather jacket.”
Alarm bells clanged in my head as I watched a cloud of annoyance darken Mr. Ferguson’s face. “How would they know one another?” I asked myself out loud.
“Dunno, but they’re shaking hands, so maybe the kid works for him at the dealership.”
Given what I knew about Rusty Naylor’s record, I doubted it, but their paths had clearly passed once upon a time. “Maybe.”
Rusty nodded to me as he took a seat a couple rows back.
Wide-eyed, Lucille turned to face me. “Is this the dude with the ponytail that you were asking about earlier in the week?”
There wasn’t much risk that Rusty could hear Lucille’s stage whisper over the mournful strains of the organ filling the chapel, but I didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances. Not with one of my prime suspects on the other side of the aisle.
“Who?” Gram chimed in.
I put my index finger to my lips to shush them both and searched the room for something to divert their attention.
I didn’t have to look far. Marietta and Mr. Ferris were headed our way.
I pasted a smile on my face. “Hi, Mom. Pretty dress.”
“Thanks.” She gave me a once-over while she settled into the seat next to Gram. “You look nice. New suit?”
Sheesh. She had seen me in my one and only black pantsuit on at least a dozen occasions. The only difference this time was that I’d lost enough weight so that I could fasten the waistband without the aid of a safety pin.
Gram scoffed. “It’s the same old suit she always wears.”
“Oh?” Marietta leaned toward me, exposing a couple inches of décolletage. “Maybe I need to take you shopping.”
Not a chance.
I needed another diversion, immediately. “Oh look,” I said, pointing at the reporter walking past our row. “There’s Renee.”
As I could have predicted, my mother shifted her attention to the tall woman glancing in her direction. “Renee. Hello.”
Renee Ireland took Marietta’s hand in hers. “This is a surprise.” She shot a pinched smile at Mr. Ferris.
Obviously not a completely pleasant surprise.
“Yes, I hadn’t realized last night that we’d be seeing one another so soon.” Marietta turned to Mr. Ferris. “Barry, have you met Renee?”
“I have,” he said, keeping his hands to himself. “How’ve you been?”
She narrowed her eyes much like my grandmother’s cat right before he swats you with his tail. “Swell.”
The organist stopped playing, signaling that the service was about to start. But I had a feeling that the tension filling the room had only begun.
Renee jutted her chin. “Excuse me, I should get to my seat.”
Lucille turned to me. “Your mother knows about them once being an item, doesn’t she?”
“Pretty sure she knows now.”
* * *
After the funeral service closed with a final prayer, Curtis Tolliver stepped to the microphone to invite us to fellowship in the reception room.
As most of us were well aware, this was our cue to follow the bereaved family into the hall adjacent to the foyer and commiserate with them over so
me sheet cake and fruity punch.
Only most of the family members filing by our row didn’t appear to be overly bereaved or in the mood for commiseration. And judging by the amount of steel in Kendra’s jaw as she herded her kids away from her glowering husband, she was flat-out pissed.
Lucille glanced back over her shoulder. “Looks like there’s trouble in paradise.”
“Maybe.” Based on what Kendra had told me about their issues with Colt, I didn’t think that trouble was especially new.
“Or maybe she’s just ticked off about having to bury her brother today,” Steve said, his breath warm against my ear.
I leaned into him. “Sure. That’s reasonable.” But I didn’t believe it for a minute, not with the way Kendra’s daughter kept looking back at her father.
Lucille’s lips pulled into a tight pucker. “You two can believe that if you want. I’m gonna find out what’s going on.”
Good. Then she could tell me.
I turned to Steve. “Are you staying for the reception?” Since he had arrived late for the service, I figured the chances of him sticking around any longer than necessary were slim.
“I have to get back to my office and finish some paperwork,” he said, shifting his attention to the guy in the leather jacket exiting the chapel. “I assume you’re going to hang out here for a while.”
Was he kidding? I wouldn’t miss it. “You assume correctly because I’m sure Gram will want to stay and chat with some of her friends.”
Steve leveled his gaze at me. “Right. Just don’t harass anyone.”
“I beg your pardon. I’ll simply be paying my respects.”
“Uh-huh.” Taking me by the shoulders, Steve spun me to face the center aisle. “Be good or I’ll have to punish you later,” he whispered, melting my core with his body heat as he pressed his length against me.
Ooooh. “Promise?”
“That depends on what you have planned for tonight.”
I knew what I wanted to plan on. “Dinner at my place?”
“If you make it a late one, you’re on.”
“Okay, then. It’s a date.” Something we hadn’t experienced much of in the last week.
Dogs, Lies, and Alibis: A Humorous Cozy Mystery (A Workings Stiffs Mystery Book 5) Page 15