Just Evil

by Vickie McKeehan

  Despite the fact that Sarah was a mere five feet away napping in her Pack ’N Play, Baylee’s voice rose as she threw her arms out wide. “What the hell does he think this is—a hobby? Damn those Boyds. They never gave you credit for anything”

  She grabbed Kit’s arm. “Don’t sign anything. I don’t trust them. Promise me you’ll get someone to look at this stuff, maybe get your own lawyer. Just don’t sign anything on Connor’s say-so alone, check it out first. Besides, since when would Alana leave you her business?”

  “That’s what I wanted to know.” Connor had sent over enough paperwork via special courier to choke a horse. Then followed up with the phone call to make sure she understood he was on a tight deadline and needed to get her signature on the papers for probate as soon as possible.

  “I’m still reeling from the news of Alana’s death and he wants me to sign papers. It’s hard to believe she’d leave me anything.”

  When she’d been able to think, she’d considered Alana’s apparent about face. That didn’t sound like the same woman who’d always told her she’d never get a dime.

  Alana had told her time and time again she simply wasn’t bright enough to run a bookstore slash coffee shop, let alone Alana’s precious real estate business. Knowing all that, Kit kept wondering why Alana would change her mind about something that meant so much to her.

  And now, Connor expected her to step in and fill Alana’s shoes, be prepared to take the reins of a real estate company she had no interest in running.

  When Kit realized Baylee was saying something, she zoned back into the present, focusing on Baylee’s hair. She still couldn’t get used to Baylee with brown hair, and wondered why she’d colored it from the natural blonde she’d had all her life to the dark chestnut color that now fell down to her shoulders. In fact, there was quite a bit about Baylee lately she didn’t get. “I’m sorry. I’m a little spacey. What were you saying?”

  “I’m worried about you, about what happened yesterday with the police.” When the baby stirred, Baylee walked to the port-a-crib to put Sarah’s pacifier back in her mouth.

  Keeping her voice soft, Kit told her, “I’m worried about me, too. But in the meantime life goes on.”

  Kit watched as Baylee patted Sarah’s little body, soothing her back to sleep. Kit couldn’t help wondering when her friend had become so moody, so secretive, and worse, such a cynic. Kit feared Baylee was a few Sweet Tarts shy of turning totally bitter.

  It wasn’t the Baylee she’d known forever, when they’d confided their darkest secrets to each other. No, that Baylee had disappeared a year ago with a half-baked story about spending some time in Europe looking for the mother she’d never known, which had been a lie, Kit thought now.

  Baylee hadn’t gotten pregnant in Europe. She’d been pregnant when she’d left L.A. and hadn’t confided in either Quinn or Kit. No, she’d gone off to God knows where alone to go through childbirth without her friends. Kit still didn’t know the whole story because Baylee refused to discuss it.

  Even though Kit hadn’t for one minute bought the story about her quest to find her mother, she hadn’t been prepared when Baylee had arrived on her doorstep last Christmas Eve with an eight-day old baby tucked into an infant carrier. After getting over the initial shock that Baylee had a baby—and that had been the easy part—the hurt had settled in knowing that Baylee hadn’t felt the need to confide in her friends about the pregnancy, that she’d gone through it alone, gone through childbirth alone.

  Even after Baylee had been back for several months, Kit still couldn’t get her to talk about the last year and what had happened to make her leave L.A. If it hadn’t been for the fact that Baylee’s father, William Scott, the renowned director, had fallen ill with a brain tumor, Kit doubted Baylee would have re-surfaced with Sarah until the child was ready for college. A theory that had her feeling uneasy for both mother and child. They were running or hiding from something or someone, Kit was sure of it. She just didn’t know who or what. Yet.

  After getting the baby back to sleep, Baylee sat back down. “How’d you get rid of Collin?”

  “Jake broke his nose.”

  “What a guy! And you spent the night with him?”

  “I passed out on his boat.”

  “This just keeps getting better and better. You don’t usually drink enough to pass out. You were trying to impress him, weren’t you?”

  Kit chuckled; Baylee knew her too well. She explained the circumstances about last night right up to waking up on Jake’s boat, minus the sexual vibes. She kept those to herself. Then she told Baylee about Collin. “But you already knew he was drunk when he stopped here.”

  “The bastard should be in jail.”

  “No argument there, but guys like that with enough money to buy a small third world country rarely spend time in jail. He didn’t last time.”

  Baylee could relate only too well. Her sudden urge to protect was instinctive as her hand reached out to Kit’s. “I thought about you last night, worried sick about this whole mess.” She didn’t say what was really on her mind. Baylee didn’t think it was a good idea for Kit to get involved with anyone right now when what she should be concentrating on was getting out of the mess she was in.

  The timing with Jake had sucked for years and now was no exception. Baylee wanted Kit to put herself first for once, instead of Jake Boston. She only wanted what was best for Kit. “You’ve got Quinn and me in your corner. Gloria’s there too. You don’t need Jake Boston to come along now and mess with your self-confidence all over again.”

  Kit blew out a breath. There was that bitter tone she heard Baylee use now toward men, one that she’d never had until recently. “But I’m not fifteen anymore, struggling with low self-esteem.” Her brain zoned out and into thoughts of pure lust as she replayed that kiss on the boat. Absently, Kit picked up her coffee and tipped the hot liquid to her mouth. The stuff only made her hotter.

  “About yesterday, about what I said. What do you want me to tell them when they ask about…about Alana? You know, about…your childhood.”

  Kit shook her head and held up a hand as if to stop her from going any further. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just tell the truth; don’t even think about lying. You’ve got Sarah to think about, so when they get around to asking, just tell them how it was, just like you did yesterday.” After baring her soul to Jake last night, she wanted to get on with the business at hand. She gave Baylee a pleading look before quietly adding, “I just can’t talk about it, okay? Please try to understand.”

  “I do, too well. I tried to put myself in your situation last night. If Dad…when he isn’t here anymore, what issues will I be dealing with about my own childhood after he’s gone? If you need to talk, I’m here, but if that isn’t enough maybe you should go back to see Dr. Strasburg, talk to him about...how you feel…now that she’s dead.”

  “I don’t think I’m so far gone I need to do that.”

  “You’re in serious trouble. If the police…you have to be prepared for…” For what, she thought, for an arrest? She wouldn’t think like that, couldn’t.

  The bell above the door jingled and Quinn Tyler stepped inside the shop, dressed in jeans and an old faded Bruins T-shirt. Kit watched the exotic-looking woman and brand new hospital resident toss back her long black mane of hair before heading straight to the Pack ’N Play. Bending down to peer at the now wide awake baby, Quinn immediately announced, “Hey, guys. Check this out. Sarah’s got a tooth.”

  Baylee scooted over to look. “Is that the future pediatrician talking or wishful thinking on the part of her Auntie?”

  To prove the teething diagnosis was true, Quinn picked up Sarah and poked a finger in her mouth, rubbing at a little white sprout. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed her teething, Mama?”

  “As a matter of fact, she was a little fussy at four this morning and didn’t want to go back down until six.”

  Kit turned to stare at Baylee in wonder. “And I thought I
had a rough night. How do you do it?”

  Baylee simply shrugged and said, “Since I’m staying at Dad’s, Tanya’s always willing to lend a hand in the middle of the night.” Tanya was pushing seventy, but she was the closest thing to a mother Baylee had ever known. Over the past few months Tanya had proved once again she could handle an infant.

  “By the way, when was anyone going to tell me about Alana? Yesterday I was on the downside of a thirty-hour shift when I look up at the TV; saw Jessica preening for the press. And this morning I turn on the tube only to find out Jessica committed suicide in the middle of an intersection. Geez, they’re dropping like flies.” Quinn stood alternately bouncing and nuzzling Sarah, then stopped long enough to look accusingly at Kit. “I called you four times last night, worried.”

  Before Kit could respond, Baylee chimed in, “The police were here yesterday, questioning Kit. They think she,” Baylee bit her lip, looked at Kit then Quinn. “They think she did it.”

  “Did what?” When Quinn finally figured it out, her jaw dropped. “You’re joking. They couldn’t.”

  Kit took another sip of her coffee. “Unfortunately, they’re serious, I have no alibi. As of yesterday, according to Connor Boyd, I inherited the bulk of Alana’s estate. I’m sure the police will use that and anything else they can…as motive.”

  At that moment a customer walked in, and Baylee went to wait on the man.

  “I don’t know what to say, Kit. You told them you couldn’t go back into that house, didn’t you? How could they think that? And since when would Alana leave you her estate? When did that happen?”

  “I have no idea, but I’m supposed to,” Kit waved a hand toward the files on the counter, “go over this paperwork, sign where indicated, and get them back to Connor ASAP.”

  Just as Baylee had done, Quinn snuck out one of her hands from around the baby and took hold of Kit’s arm. “Don’t sign anything. I don’t trust those vultures. Take all this stuff to a lawyer. Get a second opinion. Don’t take their word for anything.” When Sarah began to fuss and root around like she needed to nurse, Quinn relinquished the baby to Baylee, who’d finished up with the customer and sat back down at the table.

  Quinn pulled up another chair, plopped down. “Did either of you catch that joke of a press conference yesterday afternoon? The Unholy Three standing by Jessica’s side the entire time? Icing on the cake since it was Jessica’s farewell performance.”

  Hearing Quinn mention The Unholy Three, the nickname they’d given the Boyd sons when they were kids, sent chills down Baylee’s spine. She looked away and absently began nursing Sarah.

  But Kit shook her head and sneered, “Quinn, I was a little busy getting the third degree from Homicide.”

  “Oh, right,” Quinn said, sheepishly. “Sorry. But this was must-see TV. You should have seen the way Jessica held court with her three little lap dogs around her. They made such an ass out of themselves vying for mommy’s attention. It was pathetic. That’s nothing new of course, but it was sickening to watch Connor, Cade, and Collin twisting in the wind whenever Jessica opened her mouth to speak. And Cade was the worst.”

  “There was a time you didn’t think so.”

  “Hey, the minute Cade hit me; I called the police, didn’t I? They hauled his sorry ass to jail. Thank God for the restraining order.”

  “Like that did Kit any good,” Baylee pointed out.

  But Quinn gave her a quick, questioning look, “You should have seen the way Jessica went on and on about what a saint Alana was. She ticked off all her charity work, which I don’t remember at all. The woman I knew didn’t have a benevolent thought in her head about anyone, and she sure as hell wouldn’t give a dime to a charity.

  “Then Jessica couldn’t keep her trap shut long enough for Connor to get a word in edgewise. He tried, he really did, but every time he opened his mouth to say something, Jessica interrupted him. That was the highlight of the whole thing really, watching those three grown men try to support mommy when mommy hogged the spotlight.” The idea had her snorting with laughter. “And now she’s gone and killed herself.”

  Quinn’s outburst triggered a reminder of something Collin had said earlier that morning. Quietly Kit said, “I don’t think she killed herself, Quinn.”

  “But that’s what they said on the news. They said her car was locked from the inside. The police said…”

  “Doesn’t matter what they’re saying. Can you honestly sit here and tell me the woman you knew was prone to suicide?”

  She had a point, Quinn realized. “Well, if she didn’t kill herself, then that means…oh my God, Kit…”

  “First Alana, now Jessica.”

  “I guess they finally pissed off the wrong person.”

  Baylee had her own dark thoughts. She’d purposefully kept quiet, but now listening to Quinn talk about the Boyds had her desperate to run from the room. But while nursing Sarah that was a little hard to do at the moment. To keep from hearing anymore about the Boyds, Baylee changed the subject and blurted out, “You’ll never guess who Kit spent the night with last night.”

  An eyebrow arched over one eye as Quinn noticed Kit send Baylee a disgusted look. “Okay, I’ve clearly fallen into The Twilight Zone. Alana’s been murdered. They think Kit did it. Jessica’s dead. And Kit’s having sex. I must be dreaming. This is a parallel universe, right? Obviously the two of you have kept the best for last.”

  She stood up with renewed energy, looked around. “I need coffee.” She held up a staying hand when Kit started to speak. “No wait, I can’t handle all this yet. I need caffeine. And chocolate. Point me in the direction of anything chocolate.”

  “We sold out of chocolate yesterday. And since Kit didn’t bake this morning we can only offer you a day-old muffin I saved for later. Sorry.”

  Kit looked sheepishly at Baylee, grinned. “Well, I did put back a pan of double fudge brownies yesterday. For emergencies,” she added quickly.

  “Now we’re talking,” Quinn said, rubbing her hands together.

  “Where’d you hide them?”

  “Mini-fridge, behind the half and half, the orange storage container.”

  Amused, Kit got up and walked behind the counter, began to arrange brownies from the fridge onto a tray. She purposefully took her time just to string out Quinn’s chocolate craving.

  When they’d settled back around the table without saying a word, Quinn noticed the stupid grins on their faces. Hoping to get the conversation going, she hurriedly poured everyone refills of coffee. Staring intently at Kit, waiting for the dam to burst, got her nowhere.

  She noticed Baylee looked like she’d swallowed a canary whole and was about to explode with feathers. Not in the mood for a long drawn-out guessing game and never a patient person, Quinn was about to detonate with curiosity when she finally boomed, “Okay, spill, who’s the lucky man?”

  When Baylee’s grin turned into a snicker and Kit simply sat there gloating with information, an exasperated sound came out of Quinn’s throat. Baylee finally threw out a hint, “Think back to the past; who has Kit been in love with since she was old enough to lust?”

  When she saw no recognition, obviously enjoying the moment, she couldn’t resist another hint. “Think older man,” she offered and wiggled her eyebrows up and down.

  Quinn’s eyes grew wide. “You mean…Jake Boston’s back in town?” She exchanged a knuckle bump with Kit.

  With her free hand, Baylee touched her nose. “Ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.” With all the movement from her mother, Sarah stopped nursing long enough to look up at all three women and grin as if she were in on the joke, too.

  “So you finally did the deed with Jake. How was Mr. Hottie?”

  Without bothering to clear up the misconception, Kit watched Baylee enjoying herself as she threw in, “And Jake broke Collin’s nose this morning when he showed up drunk.”

  Quinn’s eyes glazed over with confusion. Still trying to wrap her mind around Kit being a murder suspect,
Quinn struggled to digest everything she’d heard, rubbing at her forehead as if it hurt.

  Kit took pity and explained everything including what happened with Collin. When a couple came in looking for tips on how to play poker, Kit left them long enough to help the customers. After ringing up the sale, Kit settled back down and dug into the batch of double fudge brownies with her friends.

  As the chocolate and caffeine kicked in, Quinn began to think more clearly. “You say Collin comes by your house all liquored up, making an ass out of himself, and then Connor phones you confirming Alana’s so-called generosity. Don’t you think it’s odd that Connor’s on the clock, working, the very morning he finds out his mother’s killed herself in the middle of an intersection?” Eyeing Kit’s face, she added quickly, “Okay, maybe mommy doesn’t kill herself, but she’s dead and the guy’s on the clock a couple of hours after he hears the news, dealing with Alana’s will. That’s weird.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Kit said, thinking back to the conversation with Connor. “Collin wasn’t hard at work mere hours after mommy’s death. In fact, he looked as if he’d never gone to bed.”

  “Get a lawyer, or better still, ask Mr. Software for some advice. It’d be a good way to test him and see if he really is, you know, interested in something more than a quick roll in the hay.”

  Kit had already decided to do just that, but she couldn’t let go of the subject of Alana’s will. “Don’t you think it’s odd she left me anything?”

  “Yeah, I do. But hey, maybe she suddenly grew a conscience.” At the idea of that, Quinn stuck her finger in a meaty brownie, pulling out a chunk of chocolate, and then stuck the whole thing in her mouth, letting out a laugh. “Okay. Not. Just testing to see if everyone’s paying attention. But all kidding aside, maybe the woman said all those things to you just to be mean, get a reaction, and then leave you the whole enchilada.”